Aunt B suggested that DS & DIL1 name their baby Bartholomew if it's a boy since I'm making it all sorts of interesting hats. What a great idea, Aunt B! I'll be sure to pass it along. I know they're still on the fence about a boy's name so that one can go into the mix. They won't tell what they're thinking of either so no one can weigh in with an opinion. Darned independent children, um, people. Didn't get the latest hat finished but I do have the next pattern selected.
I was rinsing out my cereal bowl yesterday morning and noticed a flying bug on the window. On the inside of the window. It's been below zero and in the twenties, where'd a flying bug come from? It's gone now. *shrugs*
I took the snowblower out for a spin yesterday and it worked just fine. Whew. There really wasn't a snowblower amount of snow, maybe an inch of the real light powdery stuff, but I needed to make sure that it's working. Naturally I broke a nail, well, the nail that popped off on Thursday did it again, so I zoomed to the salon--it was closed (grr), so I went someplace else and had it fixed. They're a tiny bit more expensive than the old place but they were open so I might just have a new place to get my nails done. I don't feel any loyalty to the business since the people I knew don't own it anymore and the new people weren't there 2 hours before their posted closing time.
I filled up all the birdfeeders yesterday and learned what a challenge it is to fill the peanut feeder in the snow. I kept losing my grip on the end I'd unhooked so a few peanuts would fong out and fall in the snow, I took off my glove (why I do not know) to pick them up and froze my fingers to the bone. I need to figure out a smarter way to do that. If I was rich (or won the lottery) I'd go off and buy a Christmas tree to lean against the honeysuckle and not wait for after the holiday to abscond with someone's tree on the curb. It's cold out there and the birdies need someplace to shelter in. (That has nothing whatsoever to do with filling that peanut feeder but it does have to do with being cold so I guess that's where that non sequitur came from.)
December 15--Henri Rousseau, The Repast of the Lion. The hungry roars reverberate over the small valley silencing every twittering bird and barking dog. Even the rooster stops in mid-crow at the echoing sound. Sara stands at the door of the coop frowning at the strutting cock and his harem of hens for being so tame, so unexciting. She longs for adventure but has only routine. Her life is a study in mediocrity; housework, school, chores like collecting eggs and tending the garden are what fills her days. Where is the danger or even a glimmer of something out of the ordinary? She hears the hungry roars of the zoo lions and realizes how far away adventure is from her life.
I think a life filled with adventure would be exhausting, don't you? A little adventure now and again, but not all adventure all the time. That'd just wear me out. I'm old, I need to rest. But first I'm going to go get the tree and the ornaments before I decide not to for the day. Sayonara.