After the big New Year’s Eve party–the hangover.  The next few entries in the diary describe a tired, grumpy household getting up late and ‘messing around’.  Read for yourself:

“Wed. Jan. 4.                                     13o below.                                    1922.

Got up a little earlier & Jay was on the peck & meaner than the d–.  He is never happy than when he can provoke me.  Fixed the kitchen walls and part of the ceiling.  Killed two pullets. One egg eaten.  Got 2 eggs.  I emb. on & tatted for the dress all day.  Ruth emb. pillow case.

Jay cut his thumb nail into.  Frank was busy trapping.  Had a nice tough swift steak for dinner.   Fritz Ontromire (?) was here after some mail.”

Tatting lace is a tricky skill, requiring intense concentration.  Here is a dress with tatted collar, dated 1950 but gives you the idea (credit: littlegreybungalow.blogspot.com).

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While our mystery lady was squinting at her tatting and arguing with Jay (sounds like her husband to me!) her father and a fellow named Frank were up in the snowy hills, laying trapline in 10F below weather.

But the humdrum routine of winter is soon to be interrupted by a major event in our diarist’s life…

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