Durwood told me when I got back from an errand yesterday that he watched a hawk chase and catch a bird. Not only that but both the prey bird and the hawk crashed into the patio door right in front of him. I can imagine looking up from the football game and SMASH! there's a hawk sprawled across the glass. When I went out to fill the feeders this morning this feather is all I found as testament to the event. (btw, I am certain that the prey bird was ugly, old and sick, and probably had bad manners; Durwood said it wasn't a cute bird, nope, not a cute bird)
I gathered info, books, yarn, and needles, and spent the time I would (should?) have been raking leaves planning the Mosaic knitting lesson I'm teaching at the Guild meeting on Thursday night. (look at me not procrastinating until the eleventh hour *patting myself on the back*) I even cast on a coaster, which is the pattern we'll be working on, so that I have something to demonstrate the technique on. I chose light teal and white yarns. Do you see the little chart next to the balls of yarn? Do you see that some boxes are white and others are black? Would you believe that as it stands right now in my little project that the black boxes stand for my white yarn? Is that not a recipe for disaster? Will I be frogging those four rows I have done and redoing it so that the white boxes represent white stitches? You'd better bet I will. To. Day.
We went to the Baylanders Barbershop Chorus cabaret show on Friday night. It was a nice evening, they have a good supper club-type buffet (broasted chicken, mashed potatoes & gravy, green bean casserole, and lots of yummy bars), the singing was good, and I won a door prize. It's a gallon of windshield washer solution, a bag of car care sprays and wipes, and a certificate for two Happy Joe's Pizza lunch buffets. Not a bad prize.
And I forgot to show you the bonus I got when I bought those sock blanks on Friday. It's a row/stitch counter that fits on your finger. Isn't it cool? I think I'll break it in on my Fringe Hat-along hat. Another thing I forgot to show you is, despite the frost that decorates everyone's roofs and grass in the morning, Dad's last 2 roses are holding their own. Those are tough roses, I guess they take after the tough German guy who planted them.
November 9--George White, Summer's Children. Tally and Gabe were knee-deep in water or mud all summer long. As soon as their mom and dad moved the family to the cottage for Memorial Day weekend they were either wet or dirty--or both--until Labor Day. There were polliwogs and frogs to catch. Snake trails that needed following, and birds' nests that needed to be located and watched for eggs and then chicks. Tally kept a journal so that she knew what was where in the neighborhood. Gabe kept an eye out for marauding cats. He had a direct line to Officer Elliot who doubled as stray dog and cat catcher and he'd set a snare, not a trap that would hurt the cat, but a snare that let him catch it and transport it someplace else. Gabe also kept a supply of jingle bells handy so that if the stray was someone's pet he and the officer could bell the cat to warn birds that it was around.
It's Monday. It's sunny and cold. It's payday. I should go. Hasta la vista, babies.