Fiona and I

Winter has officially arrived, with weekly snowfalls and frigid temperatures. It's one of the features of New England. And despite the fact that my car, Tres, performs only marginally better in the slick weather than my Ford Mustang did (before I totaled it in a way-too-dramatic fashion during a snowstorm), winter is a feature of New England that I enjoy. And by enjoy, I mean enjoy the New England way - that "I'll complain about it frequently but you'll never catch me moving to California" way.

The New England Way!

Winter is like a battle to win each year; something to come out of the other side of comparing chilblains and sore muscles from shoveling and swapping tales of how high the snow was and supermarket skirmishes for the last bag of ice melt in the store. Last year, we all got to share our tales of woe about ice dams and leaking roofs, and my lesser-used pots found a use collecting the interior rainfall.

Hopefully that aspect of winter stays in the past...

But this year has already reunited me with my now-familiar acquaintance, who I finally decided to name. She is Fiona, and she's a 60-year-old broad who lives in my basement. She's been here as long as the house itself, and she's growly and temperamental, an artifact of a bygone era who plans to live forever. And I'm cool with all of this, because she keeps us warm.

What's the name of your heating system?

Yes, Fiona is our furnace - or, more accurately, our boiler. She runs on oil and a measure of determination and is simple enough for even me to understand the basics of. She's got dials that do things and dials that have stopped working and sit there unused. The real secret of Fiona seems to be knowing which dials to trust. Last winter, we had ongoing issues with Fiona that the service team could not seem to figure out. Every time they came to the house, the heat worked fine. They'd leave, and Fiona would refuse to kick herself into gear. So during this time, I spent countless hours hauling my pregnant butt up and down the basement stairs, trying to figure out what Fiona SHOULD be doing, and whether or not she was actually doing it, and if not, why not... and never resolving the issue.

Fiona, doing what she does best.

During our plumbing adventure this fall, my father located a broken wire that he fixed, and that seems to have resolved at least one of Fiona's issues. She now fires up reliably. But every month or two, she hums new tunes, quite literally. This month she switched to a new one quite suddenly, which caused me to run up and down the stairs several times to check on her, but she seems to be doing just fine. The husband thinks I am insane, so it's okay if you think that, too.

Just keepin' on

Now that winter's arrived, Fiona and I are trying to kick it into high gear inside the house. I cleaned my desk and the junk drawer. Fiona got a new tune and kept the house toasty despite the single-digit temperatures. We're tight, because it's just us two girls during the day...  

I might need to get out more, but it's just so cold. If you want to brave the cold, you can come visit us; if Tres and I aren't running taxi service for Thing 1, Thing 2 or the Baby, I'll be here keeping Fiona company. I think she gets lonely down there in the basement.

-A Real Housewife of the North Shore