Thursday, November 14, 2013

We Had the Trail All to Ourselves

Porter and I did yesterday.  Granted it was below freezing and blowing like a banshee but it was sunny and, I have to admit, it was the best walk I've had in a while--and there wasn't another soul out there enjoying it with us.  I tried to take a selfie of us but Porter looked away at just the right (or wrong) moment, she loved running around on the greensward behind a big office building, and flushed up some geese off the creek behind it.  And my back didn't start to hurt until we were partway back to the car.

The chickens put away the pecking order (except for once when Henny, the top chicken, had to peck a few feathers out of General Tso, the bottom chicken) for the quality peels and seeds I took to them.  They were all huddled in the nest box when I got there and didn't even come out when I went in the gate but as soon as the first squash seed hit the ground they were out and pecking.  I wish they would let me pet them but they don't like it.

I cooked a whole chicken on the rotisserie on the Weber for supper last night.  I soaked a few handfuls of apple wood chips, stuffed it with apple wedges, and Durwood mixed up half A-1, half Kitchen Bouquet that I painted on the skin before slapping it on the grill to rotate slowly for an hour and a half until it was chicken ambrosia.  (it just occurred to me that I spent the morning feeding and being entertained by chickens and then cooked one for supper--I'm a festival of contradictions)

November 14--Paul Poiret, Costume.  "It's not a dress, it's an anchor."  Claire heaved the party dress away from her and it fell to the floor with a clatter.  "How am I supposed to walk, much less dance, in it?"  She flounced over and sat down at her dressing table.  She was pink with anger and wearing only her camisole and pantalets.  Ramon came into the room, his eyes on his cufflink.  "Are you ready, cherie?"  Claire's maid slid out of the door behind him and eased it closed.  "No, I'm not wearing that... that thing.  It's too heavy and it's ugly."  She spun away from his gaze.  He strode up behind her and his fingers caught one red gold curl left to tickle her shoulder.  "But I paid Monsieur Poiret a fortune to make it.  While some of our guest might enjoy seeing you in that fetching ensemble you're wearing right now, the gown is more appropriate."  As he spoke he leaned down and trailed kisses down her neck that made her shiver.

Hey, keep your fingers crossed and maybe I'll have a paying customer today.  I think I remember how to wait on one.  And tonight I get to give my presentation at knitting guild.  Should be interesting, might be good.  I'll report.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

Ah, the many possibilities of chickens!!! Somehow the ones you fed and the one you ate don't relate. At least you never, ever saw that roaster in any state but dinner-ready!