It’s been up to 50 degrees, melting the snowpack on the roofs considerably, which is very welcome. The koi are deep asleep under a slab of ice; and everything is still snow-covered, with dark holes where the footprints have melted down to soil.

Last night we looked out to great slushy glops raining past the streetlights onto wet pavement—this could have been nasty. But it went back to rain, and when Jane reported to the lab this morning for the quarterly blood test (thyroid, and so should I) it was pretty clear.

We added up everything we were apt to spend on antibiotics and downtime—or a new (and too late) tree—and decided that we should just get it together and got down and get some air purifiers for our respective bedrooms: so it was pricey—that was a major dent in Christmas—but we think it was smart. I’m already breathing easier, when every breath was going down to the lungs like fire.

The real stuff is coming in this weekend, so they say: it’s supposed to snow and Patty and Mike Briggs (Patricia Briggs) are coming in for a book signing from their home south of here. We’ve arranged to have dinner with them; but we’ll offer to put them up if it’s as dicey as it could be—there’s an absolutely wretched junction of I-90 with WA 305 or whatever, around Ritzville, that is a magnet for ice and the worst weather to be had. So we hope for better—at least for their trip—but it is what it is.

Trying to figure what to have for supper tonight. The big deal on South Beach is veggies. No matter what else you have, you have to eat a cup or two of non-starchy veggies apiece at every meal, so there, I’ve got to figure something. It may end up being a huge helping of cauliflower and a main course of southwestern beans with cheese. (That would be the protein, which is how we get by with beans.)

On the good side of things, the weight is still trending downward. It’s taken us two weeks to diet off what we gained at Thanksgiving, but hey, we had fun!