February

"Did you know," inquires my dad in his last letter, "that ice-chipping is much worse than snow-shoveling?  Well, it is.  75 lures later, I still have three weeks to kill before March 1st--my sanity cut-off date.  Pitchers and catchers report coming soon.  Cardinals are singing.  I'll cling to any ray of hope. "  Indeed.  I wasn't minding winter until this past week but now feel like I've gotten the gist--If I were in Boston, I'd say I've more than gotten the gist.  We got hit by our own three-feet-of-snow blizzard here in February 2010, so I empathize--and am ready to move on to spring.  This photo. . .after a mile-and-a-half walk a few days ago. 'Have been in a rotten mood all week, and it's not like me to be in one for this many days.  I blame the wind, the slippery sidewalks, everyday life nonsense in general, phantom wisdom tooth pain--they were removed thirteen years ago, but now and then, the site of one missing tooth starts aching--and lack of enough real walks.  Blehhh!  I echo Mom's postscript-drawing in Dad's letter below. 

My younger brother turns thirty-three today.  It is my father-in-law's birthday too.  And by Saturday, a small package containing chocolate-marshmallow hearts for my niece and my nephew and a copy of this sweet book will reach my niece Alyssa--of bat-and-cat-drawing fame--who turns eight this weekend.  Both my grandmothers, Mike's niece, a great-aunt, and my older brother have all had birthdays this month too, and each circled cake-and-ice-cream date on the calendar is a bright spot in this otherwise dreary month.  And thank God for that.  ♥

Fishmas

One of my dad's retirement hobbies has become making fishing lures.  While I was home, he showed me the lure-making studio he'd arranged in his basement den, and it was an impressive little set-up:  An easel with clamps at his desk to hold the lures in-place while he paints them, cabinets to store the eyes, loops, and hooks; a special lamp to make seeing the detailed work easier on his eyes.  While I was wrapping presents in the dining room one afternoon, Dad appeared with the whittled wooden fish pictured above in one hand and said I could have this prototype--as an ornament or good luck charm.  I will be keeping it out year-round, of course.  ♥

Knowing of his new hobby, I had brought home with me a fish-related ornament for him too (along with some paints ordered from a lure-making supply catalog and some paintbrushes as part of his actual gift), although my fish was one I'd made from a sawed-off wooden spoon end.  He added it to his and Mom's Christmas tree right away, just as I did with mine from him as soon as I returned here.  :)

He also showed me his first finished lure.  "The painting's a little messy," he said modestly.  "This is just the first one, and I hurried to finish it so you could see one while you're still home. . . ."  I am most-impressed.  I told him that and also told him that it's so neat to me that he's learned how to make these.  "Just think:  A few months ago, you didn't know how to do this, and now look--You've made your own fishing lures!  That's so cool!"  He laughed and said, "Well, I learned from a book--I didn't just suddenly know how to make them."  That's just it, though, I went on:  He wanted to learn how to make fishing lures, so he set off to learn, he ordered a book and supplies, he spent hours at his desk whittling wooden dowels and attaching parts and painting--compare my prototype ornament to the first finished one!--and now, he can say that this is something he knows how to do.  The entire process has fascinated me.  Dad listened, laughed his modest Dad-laugh again, mumbled something about it not being that hard, held up the lure so I could take a picture after I asked, and returned to his basement studio to make some more.