It was beautiful when I went out to nab the paper this morning so I had to duck back into the house for the camera. Look, blue sky.
The sparrows have returned to the feeders in force, as have the mourning doves. The sparrows use the birdie tree as a staging area for their assaults on the cracked corn feeder and the birdbath. I have to keep an eyes on the birdbath because, even with the tiny bit of open water, the sparrows bathe as a group and they bathe with abandon.
Sudoku strip #6 has gotten a lot of knitting time because it's simple to knit while talking and laughing but also because I'm over halfway through the audiobook of Ready Player One (recommended by DD and SIL1) and I'm into it. Plus I have a couple other audiobooks borrowed from the library and their loans will expire in about 10 days so I need to maximize my listening time, that means simple knitting since I can't rely on there being few to no customers at work. People persist on coming in to buy things or delivery men bring cartons of stock to be unpacked, entered into the computer, priced, and put away eating up valuable knitting and listening time. *sigh* I suppose if I want to keep getting paychecks I'll have to keep working at work.
I don't have photographic proof but I managed to hit pavement on the driveway yesterday afternoon. Repeated lashings of ice melt salt had decayed most of the ice so that I could scrape it up and toss it over the drift to the side. I'm relieved, I purely hate having to walk on ice on that slanted driveway, the street is bad enough. The street is like glass. The city trucks came by last week and sanded it so there's a bit of traction if you go slow but it's a better idea to start out downhill rather than trying to creep uphill listening to your tires whine as they spin on the ice. If it wasn't for the fact that I'd miss the kids and grandkids terribly (and my job, of course) I'd be tempted to bundle Durwood into the van and drive south until the air stopped hurting to breathe.
January 15--Joseph Marius Avy, The Swans. "They look like they run on motors," said Leda, watching the pair of swans glide across the lake. "They're so graceful." Deanna looked up from her book. "They look graceful, yes, but they're paddling like mad and don't get too close because they're mean." Leda withdrew the hand holding out a crust of bread. "How do you know that?" Deanna's eyes went back to her page. "Because my grandpa had a pair of swans on his pond and they were meaner than his geese," she closed her book on her finger to mark the place, "and that's saying a lot because Grandma said those geese were the devil's geese, they were that mean." "Why do you do that?" Leda said, folding her arms across her chest. "Do what?" "Ruin things with your stories." "I tell the truth. You're the one who spins fantasies." "Oh, really?" Deanna's book dropped as she put her fists on her hips. "Yes, really. You think life's a fairy tale, I live in the real world." It was a long drive home.
I found a recipe for Brussels sprouts sauteed with cranberries and walnuts with balsamic vinegar. I'm going to make them go to with the steak I wish I could grill out but I'm not going to chop a place for the grill to be on the patio so I'll broil it. It'll be good. I can't wait to try the sprouts. I love Brussels sprouts, don't you? And if you don't, whyever not?