Meredith put up a post of her summer reading stack, and I thought it was a great idea for a meme. As it happens, my favorite used bookstore is having its big 20% Off Everything sale today, and Az watched the kids so I could spend my morning picking out books. It’s a great birthday present.

“Fifty dollars,” he said, giving me my spending limit. I laughed. I am strictly a bargain hunter of books, and have not spent $50 at once on books in years. But it is my birthday (I’m 35 and feel 50, thank you very much) and there was a sale and we are not moving after all so I get to fill up my shelves again. I still didn’t spend $50, but I definitely indulged myself.

So without further ado, here is a promising way to spend $31.50:

You may remember that Az and I made the difficult decision to accept my parents’ invitation to move in with them so they could help us with childcare. We listed our house for sale for several months, but took it off the market during the last trimester of my pregnancy. We planned to relist our house in June.

We are not moving. We will stay here in the Midwest.

My brother is in the army and he received word last week that he will be deployed to Afghanistan soon. While he is gone, his wife and their three young children will move in with my parents. We are in prayer for his safe return and for his family.

Obviously this has disrupted the family in many ways, and one small outcome of it is that we will not be moving south. In many ways the decision is a relief - we were not sure we could sell the house in the current market, and now we don’t have to - but we wish the decision had a different impetus. My sister-in-law says she is rather weepy, and her oldest child is sometimes sad her daddy is going, and sometimes excited to live with Grandma and Grandpa and so close to their cousins. We hope for the best and pray. For now we will unpack our boxed-up books and settle back into life here.

I was taking JellyBean out to run an errand the other day when we noticed a squirrel at the base of our old maple. The squirrel wasn’t doing anything, just panting and watching us approach. When it didn’t race up the tree when we got close, I realized it was dying. JellyBean knows a little about death, but I don’t think she understands very much. I told her the squirrel was dying, and she was interested but not bothered.

Sure enough, when we came home from our errand, the squirrel was lying stretched out on the lawn, dead. I told her we must be careful not to touch the dead squirrel because it might make us sick. When we got inside I told Az about the squirrel and asked him to take care of it so the girls could safely play in the yard.

I assumed (rookie mistake) that Az would probably toss it down the hill behind our house. Our lot includes lots of trees and a steep hill, backing up to a few acres of urban forest. The girls are not allowed to go into the trees, so the squirrel would be out of reach, and I would have the pleasure of watching the birds of prey that glide into view whenever an animal carcass shows up in the woods (on the disposal of wild animal remains, I am strictly Zoroastrian).

I should have known better. Az said he would take care of the squirrel and he headed outside. I saw him pass the window carrying a shovel. He was gone for an hour before I managed to get the kids down for their nap and trudge outside to look for him ( I was thinking, “Where could he be? Is he lying in the garage gasping for help? Has he had a heart attack?” I am a worrier).

Az was complacently standing next to the spot we have used a few times for a campfire circle. There was a crackling fire, glowing with hot coals and white ash, burnt down from the large pile of brush and fallen tree limbs that had been there an hour ago.

He was immolating the squirrel.

I started to laugh. You see, if I had thought about it for one full childfree moment, I would have known he would involve fire. For years he has said that his preferred funeral would be to pile all his stuff around him in a longboat, set him adrift and set it on fire.

He saw me laughing. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t build him a little boat first,” I said.

“I would have if I’d had the time,” he replied.