I've had a taste for grilled hot dogs for over a month. I finally did something about it. Yesterday I splurged on a big package of Salmon's wieners, the best wieners, and today I lit up some charcoal and grilled some for lunch and some for later. I even popped for a bag of "we baked too much" buns from Walmart yesterday that I cut into thirds (so we could taste the meat instead of all bun). We had a lovely lunch. Now I'm thinking of whipping up a batch of Mom's Sloppy Joes so I can have Coney dogs next weekend. I am my own worst enemy.
After I filled all the feeders, attracting Bluejays, a male Downy Woodpecker, one scolding Chickadee, and too many sparrows and House Finches to count, I raked leaves. It's a gorgeous day, cool and sunny, and not windy so the damp leaves stay where you put them. Next the city needs to come collect them before a wind blows them all back onto our lawn. Also the neighbor's giant maple tree that looms over our side yard's leaves have barely started to turn. That tree always waits until all the other trees' leaves are fallen and collected before its leaves turn and fall, making leaf raking a seemingly endless task. One of the neighbors has a riding mower with a leaf bagger attachment so he just roars around his yard and dumps what he collects at the curb. I'm envious but our leaf quotient doesn't really warrant such a big machine. Guess I'll just keep raking and complaining.
I finished Sudoku Berry #4 last night and I think I'm going to rip out the few rows of the yellow ornament I did on Friday night and try doing in on one size bigger needles. Maybe then I won't need to add rows and the knitting will stretch over the ball easier. I'll let you know.
October 25--Mike Klemme, Green Shoreline. The waves spread over the shallows like thin blankets trimmed in lace. The soft shushing sound of rolling pebbled lulled Matty to sleep. Her tiny stone cottage nestled behind a grassy hill that lay like a protective arm between her and the sea. The thin autumn sunshine warmed the stone walls and her red geraniums bloomed weeks longer than her neighbors' up on the bluff. She sat in her small rustic chair on her doorstop shelling peas into a tin bowl on her lap and the aroma of roasting chicken drifted out the open door.
Oh. So that's why I went downstairs this morning to get some chicken to put on the rotisserie for supper. Somebody small sneezed on me a few times the other day and part of her cold decided to jump ship and stay with me. I hate how a cold makes my mouth taste bad. I think I might go buy some Listerine, anything's better than what I've got. Peace, out.