Aly recently completed a whirlwind packing project to empty her apartment before moving back to the homestead (see Solstice Maximus). She needed to box up and otherwise secure her household goods to hand off to her aunt and uncle, who will deliver them to Alaska Marine Lines in Seattle for shipment to Haines.
In an email sent in the middle of the process, Aly listed a few items that could not be boxed. One of them caught my attention: “I also have the sledgehammer.”
Sledgehammer? What does a suburban apartment dweller who works at a tea shop need with a sledgehammer?
The answer proves to me, yet again, that we raised our daughter well!