This morning in his not-really-awake haze, Durwood asked what that bird on the honeysuckle was. I took a quick look out the window and there was a lovely male Flicker. By the time I reached for the camera he was gone but then he and his lady love (or maybe a fledgling) were perched on either side of the birdbath having a few sips so I got them. I haven't seen a flicker in a long time. They're called flickers because when they fly away there's a patch of white feathers where their tail meets their body so you see a flicker of white.
I crocheted a single hexagon yesterday to give my sore wrist a rest (two more to go). Instead I ripped out the crocheted cloth I'd used in the shower last week. See, I ran across it downstairs, loved the colors, and decided to use it. Well, one use and I remembered why those crocheted cloths got banished. They're extra thick and tough to wring out and too big for doing dishes so I spent part of my last shower figuring out which side of the cloth was the ending and hung the end corner on the hook so when I grabbed it yesterday I knew where to snip a stitch and start pulling stitches out. Mind you, I probably should have tossed it into the laundry to remove any residual soap, etc. but I just ripped, then balled it up, snipped a corner of a dollar store pint-size plastic bag so it won't roll away as I knit it back into the kind of washcloth I like. The yarn's a little stiff but all cotton yarn's a little stiff so I'll manage.
Durwood made a yummy chicken meatloaf and broccoli for supper last night but I had bent the WW guidelines too much last week so I found that I gained instead of lost when I stepped on the scale today. This was not a surprise to me, I had earned it. I discovered that when I'm in pain (or achy) it's nearly impossible not to feel sorry for myself and over-treat myself. There, I said it, I'm my own worst enemy. Even as thrilled as I am with myself at my recent weight loss success, when the chips are down or actually only sort of down I crumble like a cheap paper plate. When things are really bad, I'm a rock but it's the middle ground of emotion that knocks my pins out from under me. *sigh* I'm such a trial to myself but I'm climbing right back on track. I had a nice, in-plan breakfast and am hoping for better news next Monday when I step on the scale again. *fingers crossed*
September 5--Allan Laidman, Basketballers.
One young, one middle-aged
One black, one white
Both love to play
drive the lane,
make the shot.
maybe not so different
There were two separate pictures of a man holding a basketball and I was struck by the similar looks on their faces. They were total opposites in looks but the photos showed they both felt the same. How could I not write about both?
I'm meeting a friend for lunch. I hope there's something I can eat and stick to the plan on the menu. Wish me luck.