Monday, September 5, 2016

Where Did You Two Come From?

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 bald
Both love to play
drive the lane,
make the shot.
The same
but different...
maybe not so different
after all. 

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.

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

Love your Basketballers poem today. Perfect.