More Birds!

 

Today was a real bird day.  First this Bluejay stopped over for a peanut.  It managed to get one out a few times before the squirrel came to chase it away.

 

 

Next to show up was a Flicker.  It's a kind of woodpecker (I looked it up) but it mostly feeds on ants on the ground.   Flickers are about the same size as a Mourning Dove so they're not small birds.

I captured the Hummingbird in flight!  Finally.  This one was dodging the squirrel and the Bluejay and the bees to light on the nectar feeder and it was persistent.  That stubbornness was the only reason I managed this in-flight photo.  It isn't great but I think it shows how fast those little wings are moving.

Later I caught it posing on the orange cup of the empty Oriole feeder.  Like I said the other day, I am endlessly entertained by Hummingbirds.

 

Today's recipe was Hoisin-Glazed Chicken.  I know it looks a lot like Tuesday's dish but this one has more hoisin sauce, star anise, and sesame oil, and the chicken simmers in the sauce.  This is so yummy that I save it for days I need a boost.

 

This afternoon I cast on a sock.  I don't know why but it seemed like the thing to do.  I bought the yarn at Rebelle in Lexington the last time I was there.  The colorway is Virgo which is my zodiac sign so I kind of had to buy it even though these are not colors I'd choose.  I'm a big fan of this pattern, it's one I can easily memorize so I can just knit around and around (and around) until the leg is long enough to put in the heel.

I found the first sign of autumn.  This little bronze chrysanthemum showed up today.  *sigh*  I know it's the middle of September and it's supposed to be barely 60 degrees tomorrow but I'm not ready for fall just yet.

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

Naomi laughed at how disgusted she sounded.  “You have never been in a choir, have you?” 

Fay shook her head no. 

“Well, they are just like any other group of people; there are all sorts of people, quiet ones and loud ones, devout ones and profane ones, idealists and cynics, and every choir has to have at least one woman who can not carry a tune in a bucket, and ours is Glory Bea Sweeney.” 

“Great name.”  

“Yeah, she is a piece of work.  She volunteers to be the director and she is tone deaf.  Personally, I think she has a big crush on Pastor Lawson.” 

“Oh yeah?  Is he cute?” 

Naomi thought about the question for a minute.  “I suppose he is if you like tall skinny men who can only talk about the Bible and have no other conversation.  I mean, I like the man, but can you say, ‘one dimensional’?” 

“So, you still have not said what is so fun about being in a choir.” 

“Well, someone is always telling a joke or making fun of someone.  Usually a couple of the men sing different lyrics than what is written.” 

“Oh, big whoop.”  

“No, you do not understand, the lyrics they make up are, uh, slightly, oh let us say, suggestive.” 

A big smile lit up Fay’s face.  “You mean some of the guys in the choir make up dirty words that they sing?  In church?” 

“Yes, they do sometimes.” 

“And no one gets angry about it?” 

“Oh, Glory Bea gets a little mad every once in a while, but even she has a little sense of humor and will crack a smile sometimes.” 

“What does the pastor say about that?” 

“The pastor does not attend the choir practices.  He only hears us during the service or if he happens to stop over in the church when we are there.”  She snorted.  “Or if Miss Glory Bea specially invites him to come over.  Then she simpers around him like he is the messiah, smiling up at him like the sun shines out of his hind end, and braying out her annoying laugh at every even remotely funny thing he says.  It is enough to give me gas.” 

“Well, that surely sounds like fun.  How did I ever miss the good times of choir practice?  Oh, maybe because I have been in a church all of once my entire life.” 

Now it was Naomi’s turn to be astonished.  “You have only been to church in your whole life?” 

“That is right.  Once.” 

“I feel like I have spent over half of my life in church.  I hated it when I was a child, getting all dressed up on Sunday morning in a scratchy dress that I could not play in.  Mama always bought me the frilliest dresses with lots of petticoats and a lace collar that she would starch until it felt like barbed wire around my neck.  She would braid my hair on Saturday night, pulling on it so hard to get it just right that I thought she was going to pull it out.  She wrapped each braid in toilet paper before I went to bed so all her work did not fuzz out while I slept.” 

“Holy cow.” 

“Exactly.  I had socks with lace ruffles and black patent leather shoes that showed every speck of dust.  Mama was always handing me her hankie to wipe them off so they stayed shiny.  Drove her nuts that I could not manage to walk the seven blocks to church without getting dust on my shoes.  We lived in rural Wisconsin, for God’s sake, there was dust everywhere.” 

Fay shook her head as if she could not even imagine a life like that. 

“What was it like when you were a girl?” Naomi asked. 

Fay rubbed her hand over her lips.  “Well.  Are you sure you want to hear about my childhood?”  

Today's toss was a case of Durwood's favorite shampoo.  I found some disposable razors too so I'll load up all that shampoo and the razors to drop off at the homeless shelter downtown next week.

--Barbara