Dear Kids,
          Dad is making a remarkable recovery. He says his progress is exponential, not linear. His appetite is back: Friday night, he and John polished off most of a pizza, plus half a gallon of milk. He’s able to get up and do odd jobs, like wiring a light and a switch in the basement. He’s attending to the cats again. After his surgery I had set their automatic feeder to go off three times a day, so they wouldn’t need him, but they prefer to have him up at 6:00 am giving them their morning meal personally. This week I’m hoping Dad can get outside and clean some of our high-up windows. They’re totally plastered with mud from the big storm that came through on Wednesday.
           Before the storm, I had been out in the yard starting my projects again. I even planted two trees that I had bought in Salt Lake. Bad idea! Salt Lake trees aren’t ready for Kamas Valley. They were frozen three nights in a row, besides being beaten half to death by the wind. Now most of their leaves are black and hanging down. Maybe they can recover. I can get my money back if they die, but I feel like a neglectful mother, planting them in such an inhospitable place, without acclimating them first.
           Three weeks ago, I wrote about the disaster of our new carpet. It’s longer and thinner and less curly than the carpet I ordered. Luckily I kept the sample board from Ward’s carpet–it’s my only proof that they got it wrong. They said they had to send a piece of the carpet to the factory, so their lab could test it. I kept saying they only had to look at it to see it was different. They kept insisting they had to go through their standard procedures. I started doubting that there even was a lab–it seemed like a way of stalling people off until they started liking their new carpet. Well, I hate this stuff. It’s already flattening down on the stairs. This week they called and said the lab finally confirmed that the carpet is different, but I could have a big discount if I kept the carpet they already laid. No deal. I wouldn’t have it in a barn. So they’re trying to get us the right stuff. I still think they’re trying to wear me down.
          But life is good. Dad is getting better. Love, Mom