Things are embarrassingly normal here on the mountain. Our cell service was even restored as of Thursday night and John has been able to get gas and groceries.
While hazmat teams are assessing the mud in Marshall (there was a toxic spill at a plastics plant upstream) and relief centers are working overtime and goods are being distributed by 4WD and helicopters and even a mule train, Josie and I are back to the usual routine.
A family of four took refuge at Josie's house, and she has had continuous fun with the two girls for six days. When they moved out yesterday to a more spacious, though temporary, apartment, Josie was bereft. A day with Meema was a bit of a bore. But we did the usual things, including making pumpkin bread.
Of course there was reading and she chose this charming book The Little House. KC Larsen sent it to her some time back and this is the first time she's read it on her own. It's the story of a little house in a field of daisies with apple trees all around. And a pond. "It's like my house," Josie exclaimed. It's a lovely little story--thank you, KC!
School is closed. Next week was Fall break anyway and many of the schools are being used as relief centers. Also, there's the question of school busses or parents' vehicles on potentially unsafe roads. At this point, no one's saying when schools might reopen.
She chose to do some work in a few workbooks we have. I'm not worried about her falling behind academically, but I know she misses the kids and her teachers.
An artist's kneaded eraser makes a good mustache.
It was a good day, all in all, and at its end, Claui and Justin came up to dinner--the first time since the Great Disruption.
We ate and drank wine and were thankful.
