Still with the snow theme — that was from last weekend up at Donner Summit.
This weekend, though, was for more homely pursuits. I pruned rosebushes, and have the torn shirt and gashed leg to prove it. I went to the rock store to pick up more sand and gravel for the patio and to pick out the stone for the much-wished-for (by K.) “pathway to the compost bin.” I found something called moss rock which was much cheaper than anything else, apparently because it comes from California. So I picked that — it’s pretty, actually, and why not get something local? Then I assembled a wood rack, leveled out a place on the rockpile near the patio to put it, shifted some rock around to support it, which also serendipitously makes it easier to make the patio bigger (which will prevent people from burning their knees around the bonfire) and loaded probably a third of the wood from the woodpile in the driveway onto it before it got dark. With luck I can finish tonight.
I should explain that our house came with a mysterious pile of stones — not flagstones, just kind of fist to grape sized rocks — which we have been trying to get rid of for years. But this is a good use for them. And the wood rack seems sturdy enough.
I also made waffles for breakfast on Sunday. We went to see Zero Dark Thursday on Saturday night and had to sit on rock hard chairs at the very front of the theater. (I liked it, although I felt like it should come with a disclaimer at the beginning that says, “but wait — we actually did not get the info from torturing people!” (Or did we — what do you think?) But the characters were good, and the sort of puzzley nature of it was good.) We get Chinese takeout on Friday and ate it all weekend, which is actually my idea of a great thing — there is dinner, and I did not make it. I went for a fast walk with my friend A which was very satisfying, both because it was beautiful out and also because there was a very satisfying ratio of ground covered both physically and conversationally per time taken on busy weekend. Though she dropped me off at the end and there were still topics we had not got to.
The highlight, though, was the Sunday night bath. We have a bathtub dating, I am sure, from 1906, when the house was built. It is cast iron, and very long, and has claw feet. Its enamel is a bit thin, and I’ve been a little suspicious of it for years, because how can you really know how clean it is? Despite years of vigorous scouring, it’s not exactly sparkling white. But I was forced to try it last weekend after my ski-injuries and discovered that bathing in it is like being in heaven. It’s really long — long enough to stretch your legs all the way out and lean way back. If you bend your knees slightly, you can slide forward and put your whole head under. And the walls of the tub are really thick, so the heat seeps into the iron and stays there — the tub itself is still warm when you let the water out.
So after hauling and building and walking and sitting through a neck-cramping, tailbone-wearing movie, it felt really really good.
So that was my weekend — what did you do?