Recent life at the Jones House, in pictures, in no particular order or coherence.
Do you know what this is? If you’ve had a baby, you probably do. I found it when I cleaned out the medicine cabinet. I texted the picture to DJ, pointing out that the dried baby snot in it is at least five years old. He responded, “Burn it. Get the kids to help. They all hated it too.”
DJ’s mother promised us a set of china when we got married. Somehow the china ended up with his sister, who lugged the boxes through four different moves. Finally, she drove down to deliver them to us. We thought, “Oh, a couple of boxes of china!” Or, well, how about six boxes of china — a complete set, including a coffeepot.
It’s lovely. I’m happy to have it, and my sister-in-law is glad I finally have it, too.
You know what this is? No, you don’t, so just hush and let me tell you. The playroom door hasn’t had a doorknob for years. I had good reasons, somehow involving toddlers. Anyway, last week DJ demonstrated the miracle of WD40 to Ranger by oiling the squeaky hinges. All of a sudden, the door wouldn’t stay shut. So until we get a doorknob, I tied this cooler to a string and ran it through the hole. This way someone from inside the room can drag the cooler up against the door to keep it shut. See? I told you that you didn’t know what it was. (It’s brilliance, in case you’re still floundering.)
Also, I think that’s red wax stuck to the doorframe. And that’s the extent of my knowledge.
DJ said a few weeks ago, “When we get our tax return, I think I’d like to get a new TV.” I agreed; we got our old TV used, and have had it for about eleven years. It buzzes sometimes, and no TV ought to buzz.
But meanwhile I accomplished some major rearranging, which left our kitchen floor open. After seeing the new setup, DJ mused aloud, “Maybe I’d rather get a kitchen island instead.”
Yes, I’m married to a man who chose a kitchen island over a new TV. Yes, I’m pretty smug about that fact.
The second thing you should notice is what I did, while walking along the bike path at the park. That little white thing caught in the branches. It’s a little stuffed dog.
I spent ten minutes throwing sticks at it to get it down. I would have succeeded, too. But a couple of guys were trundling around the park taking down Christmas lights, and they spotted me. Two men, driving a big machine that goes up high, rescuing a stuffed doggie for a woman. There was no way I could explain to them I didn’t want them to get it for me. So I said thanks.
We went to Cracker Barrel last week. It took a long time for our food to come.