Flora, No Fauna

Today was really fall-like, cool and drizzly, so I wandered around to see what was blooming and growing.  The zinnias are still standing tall...

 

Dad's rose is still blooming.  I liked this one because of the dark and light red of the petals.  It smells wonderful too, really rose-y.

The mums are starting to open even more, including the purple ones that always try to bloom in July forcing me to go out with the clippers and cut them back halfway to convince them to wait until September when all of the self-respecting mums bloom.  I especially like these copper ones...

but the reddish ones are pretty too.

The tomatoes are still ripening.  I think it'll just be a few more days before I have to pick them and bring them in to finish ripening on the counter.  It's supposed to drop into the high 40s overnight so picking time is upon me.

I cast on the second mitten this evening and got the cuff knitted.  As I read the pattern I realized that I shorted the cuff of the first one.  It says to knit the cuff to 4" but I must have read the instruction for the next smaller size because I knitted it to 3" and then went on.  Good thing I kept track of the rounds so I can make number 2 match number 1.  This yarn is so soft, I just want to rub it on my cheek instead of knitting it up but I managed to control myself.

 

27 September--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's. 

Norman looked at Fay striding around the diner, refilling water glasses and coffee mugs, delivering plates of food or clearing dishes off tables.  She seemed generally good humored with all the customers, not witch-y at all. 

“Really?  I thought she was a little witch-y all the time, especially with me, but nice to everyone else.” 

Raymond leaned back as if he needed to get a better look at Norman.  “She has already started being a witch to you?” 

“Well, she had some pretty sharp things to say to me when I was investigating the break-in here.  And you heard how she ribbed me about not finding any clues when I came in.” 

“Yeah.”

 “So, I was thinking she did not like me.” 

Raymond chuckled.  “Oh no, my friend, I think from what I have learned about Fay since she started working here that it means she finds you interesting.  I would think about asking her out if I were you.” 

“I just might,” Norman said as he saw Fay coming toward him, a bowl of steaming soup in one hand and a plate with a sandwich on it in the other. 

She plunked them down in front of him and said, “Can I freshen your tea?” 

“That would be fine,” he said.  “This smells wonderful.  Did you make the soup?” 

Fay laughed.  “No, micro zapping frozen burritos is about the extent of my culinary talents.  Enjoy your lunch.”  

Norman dug into the soup; it was as tasty as it smelled, and the turkey club sandwich was excellent. 

“Nice start,” Raymond said quietly. 

Not wanting to spray the old guy with food, Norman finished chewing and swallowed before he said, “What?” 

“I thought that you complimenting her on the food right away was a good start to getting up the guts to ask her out, that's all.”  

“Ah, thanks.  I will keep working on it.” 

He stopped at the diner for lunch two more times that week and a couple more times the following week.  Each time he sat in a different place at the counter, away from where Raymond sat, and each time the old man picked up his coffee mug and moved to sit next to Norman.  After the first time it happened Norman tried to think of a way to tell Raymond to leave him alone, that he would never have the nerve to ask Fay out with him sitting right next to him, ears flapping like Dumbo to hear every word.  Finally, at the end of the second week, Norman was relieved to see that Raymond was nowhere in sight when he entered Better Than Mom’s.  He sat down at the counter, more relaxed than he had been in days.  With a slight smile on his face he watched Fay zooming around at the tail end of the lunch rush.  When she finally got to him, she was just slightly out of breath and her cheeks were flushed. 

“Well, you are a little early today, Norman.” 

He chuckled.  “The chief hired a new patrolman and he is eager to get on the road.  He came to work a whole hour early today, so they let me leave early because I have seniority.” 

“Well, that is nice of them.  What will it be?” 

He glanced at the chalk board over the pass through to see what the soups were that day—creamy broccoli and cheese, chicken vegetable noodle, and Jamaican pumpkin soup.  “I will have a bowl of the Jamaican pumpkin soup and a chicken salad sandwich on whole wheat toast.” 

Fay was writing on her pad.  “Sweet tea today, as usual?” 

“That will be fine,” he said feeling that today would be his lucky day when she flashed him her biggest smile as she turned to put in his order.

His bowl of Jamaican pumpkin soup and chicken salad sandwich were as excellent as always.  The soup was rich with butter and cream and fragrant with butternut squash. 

“Hey, Fay,” he said when she came to ask how his food was.  “I thought this was supposed to be vegetarian soup.”  He raised his soup spoon as if she might not know what soup he referred to. 

“It is, there is no meat in there.” 

“But doesn’t it have butter and cream which come from animals?” 

She smiled at his persistence.  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it does.  This is vegetarian soup, no meat, not vegan soup which would have no animal products at all.”  She filled his glass of tea.  “How is everything?” 

He smiled what he hoped was a winning smile.  “Everything is delicious.” 

“Good.” 

She turned away and worked her way down the counter on his side and back up the other side, handing out bills, filling glasses, and flirting her way to bigger tips as she went. 

Today's toss was some bowls and sauce dishes that I haven't used in about ten years.  They are now wrapped in newspaper and nestled in the box in my trunk, well, the wayback.

I went through all of the bags of knitting in the guest room closet today and took out all of the needles and notions.  A couple needles were just hanging out waiting for me to cast on something but then there were the projects that got started a year or ten ago that I knew I wouldn't be able to pick up and continue since I didn't know where I was in the pattern and couldn't tell by looking at it.  One of these days I'm going to get brave, go downstairs, and start culling out yarn that I know I'll never knit up.

The Packers must be doing something good.  I keep hearing people cheering but I know it's an away game.  Maybe they have a backyard TV.  Or maybe they're just loud.

--Barbara