Be afraid of the cold / They'll inherit your blood / Après moi, le déluge / After me, the flood

Oh, the joys and trials of living in a century-old Victorian! It's been less than warm at home these past couple of days, since our ancient furnace mysteriously ceased functioning on Tuesday. After poking vainly at the rusty, imposing contraption in the basement and attempting to follow the faded and cryptic instructions affixed to the side, we admitted defeat and called PG&E. They're sending a repair person tomorrow. So the Grub and company very sweetly loaned us a space heater or two, we put a heating pad on the bird cage (although Madi insists upon climbing up to sit on it, which is no doubt greatly unsettling to Furn), and we're using the adventure as an excuse for snuggling under lots of blankets.

Wednesday was a Tied House gathering. Quite a few people joined us, although I must admit I was very much distracted by seeing sichling's and 3diff's dear baby William again. I'd never been to the Tied House in Mountain View, and found it a bit noisy (I don't suppose it helped that we were spread across four tables). But I easily consoled myself with the wonderful company and a pint of lovely Ironwood Dark.

Tales from this weekend are forthcoming; meanwhile, a recent photo shoot with the Boy's avian mask (click the mosaic below to view the set):

And happy Purim!

Listening to:

Begin to Hope