Comment: Still getting a connection from my corner so here goes...

So we're dealing with the whole furnace issue. It's been ten years since my husband and I even lived in a climate that required a furnace, so this is big. Our house has a really old and malfunctioning furnace. It needs to be replaced. Like, now.

Which brings us back to that research/agonize/eventually act out of desperation cycle that we seem to dwell in as a family.

I understand that a furnace is not a t-shirt; it's a big investment. How we get to purchasing one is where our paths diverge. I want to talk to the furnace people; my husband wants to do research. But he doesn't have time to do it. And I don't know the first thing about furnaces. So I want to ask a specialist. Sure, I know, they're trying to sell me something, but they know more than we do. When you go shopping for a mattress, you count on the salesperson to tell you something about your options, even if you do take it all with a grain of salt. Is this a vicious circle or what? Or maybe a funky Mobius strip, snake swallowing tail, no beginning and no end? (Hey, that sounds kind of Zen.)

The bottom line: it's week two, and we are still without heat. I'm getting very good at lighting fires. (In the fireplace. Relax, people!)

I'm learning to appreciate the concept of layering. The last time I wore this many layers, I was a punker in upstate New York, an angry young woman with jet black hair and raccoon-eyes who smelled of menthols. (Remember that, Solipsist?)

Today the layering is not about fashion.

I've had a hat on for two weeks. And now I'll never be able to take it off, since the hathead case is unbelievable. I have a sleeping hat and a running hat and a day hat.

I probably love hats because of Mary Tyler Moore. My best friend and I are devotees of MTM. We even met two years ago in Minneapolis, so we could pose in front of the bronze statue of Mary throwing her hat. We had strangers take our picture, and we took some of them, too. It was a riot.

My friend and I regularly remind each other that we are indeed going to make it after all, even when things feel bleak. No other slogan works as well for us as the ole "hat hurl."

I love you, Jane!