Spring Cleaning (Sort Of)

Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful day, 72 degrees, blue skies, and breezy. It made me want to open the windows and wash my kitchen curtains since it was also a perfect drying day. Once I washed the curtains and hung them on the line, I decided that since I had started some spring cleaning, I would continue. 

 

 

Last week I asked you guys about rechargeable stick vacuums and even though Dyson seemed to be the top choice, I was afraid that brand might be a little pricey for my budget. I ordered an inexpensive ($128) model that was made in China but after reading too many specs I finally picked this one for its price, weight, suction, battery life, and reviews. 

 

 

I've only used it a little bit but I'm completely happy (so far). The heaviest thing on it is the rechargeable battery, it works really well on both rugs and bare floors, and the charge seems to last at least 30 min. even though I hadn't fully charged it. It even has a cool green headlight that helps me see dust on the bare floors. 

 

I was looking at the user's manual and got inspired to take the "stick" part off and attach one of the additional cleaning doohickeys and vacuum my stairs. I've always done them with a Swiffer and a damp microfiber towel, but using the vacuum this way I didn't have to crawl up and down the steps to get the dust bunnies.

 

Today is supposed to be even warmer, so I will probably wash my bedding and hang it outside so I can experience that wonderful moment of climbing into a bed freshly made with line-dried sheets. I'm also looking forward to vacuuming upstairs with my fancy new vacuum. I know I can carry it up the steps without hurting my back or tripping on the vacuum. Spring cleaning two days in a row is kind of a miracle around here, but anything that makes me want to clean is a good thing!

One Friday Letter

I've only got one Friday letter today, but I think it's a good one. The situation appealed to me for many reasons - there was a true disparity; the resolution involved knitting; the knitters drew attention to the problem without violence or vandalism, and the Danish government responded with a meaningful amount of money to address the issue. Read this article and see what you think. 

Dear Danish Knitters, 

Way to go! I love that Louise Moerup first discussed why there weren't more statues of real women with her son on the way to school, and even better, then she did something unique and creative. She knit a lovely halter dress for a naked Venus statue, but this was not because she was disturbed by nudity. “It wasn’t really the nudity that made me want to knit her dress,” Moerup said, “but the absence of women who are remembered for their achievements. Knitting the dress was my humorous way to make people look twice and notice what’s missing.” 

I love that other knitters have joined in making knitwear for statues, and I'm impressed by the caliber of these garments. 

 

 

Author Maren Uthaug said. “We don’t want the statues removed, and we don’t really want to cover them up. But we can’t make a point by doing something with historical statues — because they are not there.”

 

 

I really love that the Danish government saw and heard the knitters and announced that it was setting aside $1.5 million to fund public artworks commemorating historically significant women. 

 

“If my little knitted intervention helped nudge the conversation forward,” Moreup said, “I’m glad about that.” Louise, you and other Danish knitters have made my week, and I raise my knitting needles to you and your clever knitting. Well done!

 

Joining you in admiration,

A Fellow Knitter (who has not yet clothed a statue)

 

I hope your weekend is a good one and that your own making involves a bit of humor and cleverness! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/4/2026

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with more of the Dream Hitchhiker. It looks much the same but I'm well into the second skein and have completed 28 teeth, so there is progress. 

I've been thinking about casting on a second project and I think I've chosen one. Years ago (13 or so) I knit this hat for Justin. He wore it several times, but he was in college at the time, so the hat often ended up on the floor of his dorm room. He brought it home and said that he didn't know how, but the hat had gotten a few small holes in it. There were at least five or six holes and I felt like crying, so I picked up the stitches around the holes the best I could and then just put the hat into the freezer. I suspected the holes were from carpet beetles, and I hoped the freezer would kill them. They are probably dead after 13 years, but realistically, I think it would be easier to just knit a new hat and duplicate stitch the animals once again onto the new hat. It took me over four months to knit and stitch originally but it could be a Christmas present if I started the new one in the near future. I think I might have extra balls of the original yarn I used, but that will require digging into deep stash. I also have to find the patterns for the animals. I might try gathering the materials together in the next week or so, or ordering new yarn if that's what I need to do. I've got my fingers crossed that this actually works out. 
 

I finished two books this week. I've seen the trailer for the movie Midwinter Break and thought the book might be more interesting. I went into Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty expecting a quiet, emotionally rich portrait of a long marriage, and that’s mainly what I got. Set over the course of a short trip to Amsterdam, the novel follows Gerry and Stella as they navigate the unspoken tensions, old wounds, and spiritual reckonings that surface after decades together.

MacLaverty writes with restraint and precision. The prose is spare but thoughtful, and there’s an understated elegance to the way he captures memory, regret, and the strange intimacy of a shared life. The alternating perspectives between Gerry and Stella work well, highlighting how two people can inhabit the same experiences yet carry entirely different emotional truths. I especially appreciated the exploration of faith, guilt, and aging. These big themes are handled in a human, grounded way.

That said, while I completely understood and could easily relate to feelings that people engaged in a decades-long marriage might experience, that doesn't easily translate to a book that people might enjoy reading. The novel’s quiet realism too often tips into emotional monotony. The conflicts are internal, the revelations subtle, and the forward momentum minimal. At times, I found myself admiring the craft more than feeling compelled by the story.

There’s no doubt that Midwinter Break is a mature and carefully constructed novel. For readers who appreciate introspective literary fiction and nuanced character studies, it will likely resonate deeply. For me, though, the experience felt more contemplative than captivating. Thoughtful and well-written, but not quite moving enough to linger long after the final page. This was three stars for me. 

During the winter, I worry about the birds, foxes, and deer that visit our yard on a regular basis. In Winter World, Bernd Heinrich explains that many of them have mechanisms and ways to survive so maybe I don't need to worry too much. What could have been a straightforward natural history of how animals survive the cold becomes, in Heinrich’s hands, something more intimate: a meditation on adaptation, endurance, solitude, and awe.

Blending memoir with scientific observation, Heinrich documents the winter lives of creatures in and around his Maine woods, chickadees that can lower their body temperature to survive brutal nights, frogs that freeze solid and thaw in spring, insects that rely on antifreeze-like chemicals, mammals that gamble on stored fat. His explanations are clear and often fascinating, and he has a gift for translating complex biological processes into language that feels accessible without being simplistic.

That said, I had mixed and complicated feelings about some of the experiments he describes. Several of them feel driven primarily by personal curiosity rather than a clearly articulated research framework, and there are instances where he captures wild animals to conduct experiments that ultimately result in the animal’s death. While Heinrich is transparent about what he’s doing, and while such practices may not be unusual in certain scientific contexts, reading these passages was unsettling. At times, the tone borders on casual in ways that made the work seem more scientifically irresponsible than rigorously controlled.

The book also straddles an interesting line between science and memoir. It is undeniably grounded in biology, but it also contains plenty of personal reflection and non-scientific assumptions about behavior, motivation, and meaning in the natural world. For some readers, that blend will be the book’s greatest strength; for others, it may blur the boundaries between observation and interpretation a bit too freely.

Ultimately, Winter World transforms the coldest season into one of quiet brilliance. Even with my reservations, I finished the book more attentive to the frost on my own windows, more curious about the birds at my feeder, and more aware of the invisible dramas unfolding in the snow. It’s an absorbing, thought-provoking read, one that inspires wonder, even as it invites debate about the costs of curiosity. Three and a half stars rounded up.  

What are you making and reading this first Wednesday in March? 

 

Weekending: 2/28 and 3/1

Weekends in my world aren't a lot different than weekdays. I did take a couple of decent photos this weekend, so I can use them to tell you about my mostly dull weekend. Let's see what I can come up with.

John was talking to his brother at his house and their conversation was getting a bit boring for me so I took a little walk into the woods. I was lucky enough to see this hawk, but I wasn't sure what kind it was. Google tells me that it's a red-shouldered hawk and I think it's quite beautiful.

I also saw bare fields and plenty of deer eating in those bare fields on my way back. I'm surprised at how fast the snow is melting, but I guess that's what happens when the temperatures reach 50. We do have a few chilly days before it warms up again. I wonder if the warmup is here to stay? Probably not, but the rain that is predicted for this warmer week is far better than snow.

Speaking of deer, I made venison chili in the crockpot on Sunday. I don't mind cooking but half the battle is deciding what to make. Chili is easy to put together and it's a good meal with cornbread. I hope there are leftovers because I don't know what to make for dinner tonight (or the rest of the week).  

 

The only other thing of note that I did this weekend besides knitting and reading was search for a rechargeable stick vacuum that works on both carpet and bare floors. Jess has one that I've used to pick up kitty litter that's gotten tracked around but it barely works on carpets. I have this idea that I might clean more if my vacuum wasn't so heavy and cumbersome to lug upstairs. I found a couple possibilities on Amazon, but I'm not sure. So if you have any recommendations, please let me know. There's no guarantee that I will clean any more even if it's easier, but there is always a small chance. 

 

I hope you had a good weekend and that it was somewhat warmer in your neighborhood!

Friday Letters

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. It's been a while (three years, actually) since I wrote any, but after reading the NYT this morning, and the storm last weekend, I think I have a few things to write about. 

Dear DD,

I do like your coffee (your donuts, too) but I like them in normal quantities. Reading this article this morning just made me laugh. My favorite mug holds 14 ounces of tea and I find that to be sufficient. When Ryan and I drove from Colorado to New Jersey, I did have a 20 ounce cup of coffee in the car. But a 48 ounce bucket of coffee strikes me as excessive. I would feel ridiculous carrying this thing around by the handle and no vehicle has a cup holder big enough for a bucket. But your stores are supposedly sold out of the bucket and you haven't even rolled it out to all locations, so to each his own. I may hold out for the super-size five-gallon bucket. 

 

Sincerely,

An Occasional Coffee Drinker in Moderation

 

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Dear Mr. Clean,

 

Congratulations on your retirement! You are just a year younger than I am, and I was saddened to hear that you were "saying goodbye to the world of cleaning". I occasionally use Bounty paper towels, Tide detergent, and your magic eraser sponges are great. Retirement is wonderful, but I'd like to extend an invitation to you. If you find that you miss cleaning, you are always more than welcome to come to my house and do some. I'll have plenty of your products on hand so you can do laundry, dust, and you might even have to mop up a big spill from my DD coffee bucket. Feel free to stop by any time; you will always be welcome!

 

Best Regards,

A Person Whose House Needs Your Special Touch

 

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I received this photo from a friend that lives in Massachusetts and had to write a reply. 

 

Dear Nina,

 

I'm sorry for all the snow you received in Massachusetts and I wish you all the best in digging out. But thank heavens you remembered to put your wipers up; you might have a real dilemma on your hands if you hadn't done that!

 

So sorry,

Bonny (who only got half the snow that you guys did)

 

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My Dearest Sweet Nugget,

 

Please accept my heartfelt apologies for not coming to see you and give you treats last Monday. Yes, I was supposed to be the cat-sitter, and I'll admit that I didn't do a very good job since I didn't brave a mere 17" of snow to come and check on you. I'm so sorry, and I will definitely give you extra treats, pets, and snuggles the next time I see you. 

 

Please forgive me,

Your favorite pet-sitter

 

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Here's hoping you have a lovely, relaxing weekend! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 2/25/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a start on the Dream Hitchhiker. It is a dream to knit with this yarn, and for now I'm knitting on it monogamously in hope of finishing it in good time.

It was too dark outside to take a good picture of this by the time I thought about it, but I'll try to do better next week. I'm doing a row of yarnovers after every group of six teeth and stopping to admire it and pet its softness then, too. This is really a joy to knit. 

I've only got one knitting project but I did finish two books. Good People by Patmeena Sabit is one of those novels that quietly unsettles you and then refuses to let go.

At the center of the story is Zorah Sharaf, beloved eldest daughter, model student, the pride of a family who clawed their way from refugee beginnings to life in an exclusive American neighborhood. But after an unthinkable tragedy, the narrative fractures. Was Zorah perfect? Was she troubled? Was the Sharaf family truly living the American dream or just performing it?

What makes this novel especially compelling is its unique structure. The story is told exclusively through statements from friends, neighbors, teachers, community members, and reporters all weighing in. There’s no traditional narration, no access to a character’s private thoughts. Instead, readers piece together the truth through interviews and commentary. The format feels almost like reading court transcripts or investigative journalism, and it creates a fascinating push-and-pull effect. Just when you think you understand what happened, a new voice reframes everything.

That structure also underscores one of the novel’s most powerful themes: how truth is shaped by perspective and also by bias. Through these layered testimonies, Sabit offers a sharp, thought-provoking exploration of immigration, assimilation, and the crushing expectations placed on “model” families. The Sharafs are praised as a success story until they aren’t. The same community that once celebrated them becomes quick to judge. Prejudice simmers just beneath polite suburban civility, and the novel captures that tension beautifully.

If I have one small critique, it’s that the format, while bold and effective, occasionally creates emotional distance. Because we never fully inhabit Zorah’s interior life, some moments feel intentionally elusive. But maybe that’s the point: we never truly know someone through secondhand accounts, no matter how confident the speaker sounds.

Overall, Good People is smart, unsettling, and deeply relevant. It’s a book that invites discussion, about immigration, family, reputation, belonging, and the dangerous ease with which communities rewrite someone’s story. I think this would make a wonderful book for a book club discussion. 4.5 stars rounded up. 

In Where We Keep the Light, Josh Shapiro offers a thoughtful, measured reflection on public service, faith, and what it means to “show up” for your community. Part memoir, part governing philosophy, the book traces his path from knocking on doors as a young volunteer to leading the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania through complicated and often contentious moments.

I’ll admit whenever a prominent politician releases a memoir, especially one still relatively early in their national trajectory, it’s hard not to view it through a presidential lens. Writing a book can feel like a box that gets checked when someone is considering a future run for higher office. That said, even with that awareness, this was still a genuinely solid and engaging read.

What works best here is Shapiro’s emphasis on practical governance. He returns again and again to the idea that government can function well if leaders are willing to listen carefully, build coalitions, and tackle unglamorous problems head-on. His stories from the campaign trail and from his time in office feel grounded rather than grandiose. There’s a steady through-line of faith and family, but it’s presented in a way that feels personal rather than preachy.

As someone who doesn’t live in Pennsylvania but just next door in New Jersey, I found it interesting to read about issues that ripple across state lines, economic development, infrastructure, public safety, and the constant effort to restore trust in institutions. Even from a neighboring state, it’s clear that Shapiro takes the mechanics of governing seriously.

Is it a bit polished? Of course. Is there careful positioning? Absolutely. But that’s to be expected in political memoir. What elevates it to four stars for me is the tone: pragmatic, optimistic without being naive, and focused on the idea that more unites Americans than divides us.

If this book is part of laying the groundwork for a presidential run, it’s an effective introduction. Based on what I read here and in the news about his governorship, I think Mr. Shapiro would do a fine job as president. Here’s hoping that that happens. 

What are you making and reading this last Wednesday in February? 

 

Catching Up on Books

I had an embarrassment of riches in Advance Readers' Copies and I'm just now getting caught up in reading them. This post will serve to "officially" catch up by sharing my thoughts on three books. I thought they were all worthwhile reads and I really loved one of them. I'm writing this post ahead of time on Saturday for publication on Monday because we have a blizzard predicted to start on Sunday, with 16-20 inches of snow and 50-60 mph winds. Once again, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we don't lose electricity, but even if we do, hopefully you'll still be able to read about these three books.

Fairy tale retellings are nothing new. Shelves are lined with fractured princesses, redeemed villains, and revisionist happily-ever-afters. But Lady Tremaine by Rachel Hochhauser stands out from the crowd as an exceptionally well-crafted reimagining that doesn’t simply flip the script on Cinderella’s “wicked stepmother,” but interrogates how such a woman might have come to be called wicked in the first place.

Hochhauser’s Etheldreda, Ethel to those who know her best, is a widow twice over, clinging to the brittle scaffolding of respectability in a manor house that mirrors her own circumstances: grand on the outside, quietly crumbling within. She is sharp, strategic, and fiercely devoted to her daughters’ survival in a world that offers women very few safe harbors. In this version of the story, ambition isn’t vanity; it’s survival.

What makes this retelling so compelling is that it doesn’t excuse cruelty, but it contextualizes it. Through Ethel’s eyes, we see how desperation, grief, and the razor-thin margins available to women can calcify into hardness. Hochhauser brilliantly illustrates how, in a patriarchal system where inheritance, security, and status are controlled by men, women are forced to fight relentlessly for themselves and their children. Marriage is not romance; it is infrastructure. Reputation is currency. A royal ball is not magic; it is strategy.

The novel’s emotional core is Ethel’s love for her daughters, a love that is both tender and ferocious. When a royal engagement accelerates in unsettling ways and dark secrets surface within the monarchy, Ethel must confront the true cost of the future she’s been so carefully engineering. Her choices, particularly regarding her prickly, resistant stepdaughter, are what elevate this book beyond a simple villain redemption arc. Hochhauser shows how stories are shaped by perspective, and how history (or folklore) often flattens complicated women into cautionary tales.

The writing is lush without being overwrought, and the pacing remains propulsive, especially as political intrigue deepens. There’s romance, yes, but it is the romance of agency and survival as much as it is between individuals. The peregrine falcon perched at the edge of the household feels like a perfect symbol: beautiful, dangerous, and trained to survive.

If I’m holding back half a star, it’s only because a few secondary threads could have been explored even further. But that’s a small quibble in what is otherwise a gripping, thoughtful, and emotionally resonant retelling.

In a genre crowded with glass slippers and spinning wheels, Lady Tremaine reminds us that sometimes the most interesting woman in the room isn’t the girl in rags; it’s the one fighting to keep the roof from collapsing. This one was a glowing five stars for me. 

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on March 3, 2026.

The Shock of the Light is an emotionally rich, carefully researched World War II novel anchored by a powerful sibling bond. Twins Tessa and Theo feel convincingly intertwined from the first pages, making the novel’s central loss resonate long after the war story itself unfolds.

The wartime sections are especially strong. Tessa’s work with the Special Operations Executive brings tension and moral complexity, while Theo’s experiences as an RAF pilot, and later as a wounded, grieving veteran, are rendered with sensitivity and restraint. Theo’s identity as a clandestinely gay man in a period when homosexuality was criminalized adds another layer of quiet danger and injustice, and Hall handles this aspect of his life with care rather than melodrama.

The novel’s dual timelines largely work, particularly the postwar storyline involving Edie, a PhD candidate researching the SOE. Her partnership with the aging Theo provides a moving frame for uncovering Tessa’s fate and exploring how grief reshapes a life over decades. That said, the contemporary sections occasionally slow the novel’s momentum, especially when compared with the immediacy and emotional intensity of the wartime chapters.

Where the book truly shines is in its portrayal of love - between siblings, between comrades, and in the redemptive connections that can arise unexpectedly from shared loss. While not every narrative strand carries equal weight, The Shock of the Light is a thoughtful, affecting novel about courage, secrecy, and the long shadows cast by war. Fans of character-driven historical fiction will find much to admire here.

Thank you to NetGalley and Viking Penguin for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on March 17, 2026. There is a giveaway on goodreads if you are interested. 

 

I don’t often judge a book by its cover, but I was immediately struck by this title and knew I had to read the book. Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt announces its intentions right away; this is a meditation on mortality, love, and the fragile beauty of being alive.

This is also a surprisingly difficult book for me to rate. The original title and premise feel like an easy four stars all on their own, and in places the writing rises to five-star territory with quiet, luminous passages that capture grief, tenderness, and human connection with real grace. At the same time, there were sections that felt thinner or more familiar, where the novel landed closer to two or three stars for me.

Ben Reeves gives us a modern, quietly human incarnation of Death in Travis, who wears jeans, lives in a drab town, and approaches his work with gentleness, patience, and deep respect for the natural order of things. His role is not to interfere, only to witness and to comfort, and the novel’s early chapters are especially strong in conveying the dignity and tenderness of these final moments. There’s something profoundly soothing in the way Reeves allows Death to listen without judgment.

The emotional center of the book emerges when Travis forms a connection with Dalia, a midwife, and her spirited daughter Layla. The contrast between someone who ushers life into the world and someone who accompanies it out is handled with warmth and clarity, and Layla’s presence adds lightness without ever feeling forced. Through them, Travis begins to understand attachment, joy, and loss in ways that complicate his carefully maintained detachment.

This is a short novel, and its brevity is both a strength and a limitation. The writing is often lovely and sincere, but some ideas feel introduced and resolved a bit too quickly, as though there were room for deeper exploration that the book chooses not to take. Still, the emotional impact is real, along with plenty of compassion.

Ultimately, this is a gentle, thoughtful book about accepting impermanence and finding meaning anyway. I settled on 3.5 stars rounded up. The ambition, compassion, and moments of truly beautiful writing make this a worthwhile read, even if it doesn’t fully cohere at the same level throughout. For readers drawn to gentle reflections on life, love, and death, there is much here to appreciate. This one was four stars for me. 

Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 7, 2026. 

Here's hoping you're safe, warm, have plenty of books to read, and electricity, all at the same time!