Burning Our Couches Behind Us

Or at least, off to the side.

Of course one can be sentimentally attached to old furniture. Fortunately that would not be us since:

a) they were so raggedy that we had to throw blankets over all the cushions to keep the exposed foam from rubbing off. A spring or two was also broken.

b) the Hoyts as a clan are fiercely and proudly incapable of sentiment

And I have found over the years that one does not bear too deep an attraction for items acquired second hand. And that is why this picture brought not sadness or nostalgia, but supreme pleasure:


Myself, because I couldn't stand them any more, and the kids, because lets face it, there's a little pyromania in each of them.

The flames had been higher, but started to die back a bit as I looked out the window in shocked amazement and scrambled for the camera.

Who knew you could get such an impressive blaze from decrepit couches?

We got rid of both old blue dinosaurs...well, originally they were blue-ish, and replaced them with two completely and utterly intact pieces from Ardith and Justin's. They are moving to the Twin Cities and found that moving two less pieces of furniture might be a good thing.

I'm always happy to help others in acts of doing good, so I took the Moby Dick, the great white van, down to Cedar Rapids a week ago tomorrow. It was a fun day for me in that I cruised the highway as well as the radio dial, finding good driving conditions and several acceptable oldies stations.

Also, had fun with Justin and Ardith when we they took me out for lunch to Panera Bread.

I could get used to life in the big city.

Now we prepare for another weekend. This weekend being nice in that:

a) no one is sick (that I know of

b) there is no church potluck so I don't have to wrack my brain figuring out which of my mediocre dishes people will hate the least.

In addition, Loren tested out the previously non-working VCR and it seems to be working again. I'm sensing good movie times ahead, including perusing a few more Star Trek: the Next Generation from the vast collection my sister nabbed at a library sale.

And now, Tuna Helper calls. First it called to me from the store (it was on sale) and now it's aromatic and sinus-clearing therapy calls from the stove.

Adieu. May your couches be comfy and your tuna fettuccine.
 

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