"He's a lumberjack..."

"...And he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day..."

Okay. No skipping, jumping, or hanging around in women's clothing at bars here. But my husband is doing his very best darned impression of a lumberjack, out there splitting logs from a felled tree. We don't have any andirons or fireplace screen yet. As soon as we get them, we'll have our very first fire in the fireplace.

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."

All sorts of woodsy, nostalgic songs leap to mind.

Musical Tourette's, as a friend says.

It's darned cold, and we're embracing the New England lifestyle. Splitting logs. Plaid flannel shirts. Moose.

Just kidding. No moose here. Are there even moose in New England? And Will's wearing a Chuy's t-shirt, a shout-out to one of our favorite Austin restaurants. Oh well. One out of three. We're kinda New England-y.