After months of drinking down the liquor cabinets, weeks of packing thousands of cookbooks, and a three-hour flurry of actual moving, we're settled into the new house. Just shy of half the library's up. Most of the liquor is still boxed. The kitchen is almost up and running as I want it. The place didn't fully feel like home, though, until I brought over my knives. With my knives in hand, I can make nearly any house feel like home.
Salt-glazed syrup jug from potter Sid Luck gracing the mantel
I'm keeping a low profile for a while; there's a floor to lay in the attic, shelves to build and fill, and some plumbing work that makes me glad I'm not a complete novice working with copper.
Now, if you'll excuse me, that pig roasting in the oven craves my attention.