Bertha & Helga

Although winter starts in the fall, it is just an ugly dreary mess until February when the snow starts to pile and drift, absorbing all the sounds of the world creating a dense silence normally reserved for the depths of nature. The kind of silence where you see a car before you hear it. The only things you do hear are the beat of your heart, the exhale of your own breath and the crunch of Emma’s boots as she stomps up the drive!?

“I'm here!” she bellowed bursting through the door, allowing the storm door to slap the frame behind her as she stopped on the porch to take off her boots.

“I'll alert TMZ, they will want to get someone down here ASAP in case you flash a boob or forgot your underwear,” I shot back.

“You mean like this?” Emma asked as she walked into the kitchen with one breast peering out of her flannel shirt. “Oh, should have told me you have company,” she said as Logan’s jaw dropped and coffee dribbled down his chin.

“Well, if you had given me a chance,” I replied as I wiped Logan’s chin like a geriatric nurse, “I would have.”

“Sorry Logan. Didn't mean to spoil your coffee.”

“Not spoiled...just...hell! You did spoil it, but you will never hear me complain about it. Feel free to ‘spoil’ my coffee anytime.”

“P I G,” Emma and I shrilled in unison.

“Whatever!” Logan retorted. “You know you both love swine.”

“Speaking of which, This, you making pork roast still for Sunday?” Emma asked. “I’m thinking of making a cranberry pear tart.”

“And by ‘making’ you mean buying at Wegmans of course.”

“Well, yes,” Emma replied. “That is unless I find something better at Maelek’s.”

“Mmm...challah bread pudding!” Logan drooled still staring at Emma’s now covered chest.

“Logan,” Emma said condescendingly, “Bertha will not be making a repeat appearance, so you can stop waiting for it.”

“You named your boobs!?”

“Sure! This is Bertha,” she said grabbing her right breast. “And this here is Helga,” grabbing the left. “Say ‘Hi’ girls,” she commanded grabbing both and lowering her head to speak to them.

“Alright!” Logan interrupted. “This has to stop or I’m going to need the bathroom, a box of tissues and some lotion that doesn't smell of flowers or fruit.”

Our collective descent into laughter had now reached terminal velocity, leaving Logan holding his sides, me crying and Emma falling off her chair. If only every day started this well!

Of course the rest of the day failed to live up to breakfast, but uneventful is better than disappointing. The one decent thing about winter starting so early here is that it has forced me to focus on the inside of the house and I've made serious headway.

Nini, my grandmother, is coming by on Thursday to see the house and I really want it to be in the best shape possible. Today was dedicated to clearing out “Guest Room #2” in order to spread out all of the boxes and trunks from the attic. I am hoping Nini can help me pick out some samplers and pictures to display. She also might be able to fill in the story of the house a bit further. I know she grew up in Boston and didn't move here until college, but Papa was born and raised here, maybe he shared some stories with her.