Not Much Wildlife

Today was another dreary overcast day and I only saw two House Finches at the feeder.  What I did have a bunch of was squirrels.  There was a trio of them tag-teaming the suet feeder and playing chase games around the back yard.  As always, I am envious of their ability to hang by their back feet while nibbling on the suet.

I finally removed the autumn bittersweet wreath from the front door and replaced it with the jingle bell wreath.  It's more in keeping with the season even though we don't have any snow.  Not that I'm complaining.  I'm perfectly happy to have no snow until, say, Christmas Eve when we get a reasonable four or five inches of powdery snow so that driving isn't too dangerous. That way kids who get sleds or snowshoes for Christmas can go out and play.

Usually when I put up the Nativity set I hide the Kings and camels, along with the camel driver, behind the clock because everyone knows that they don't show up until Epiphany, aka January 6, so they're out of sight until then but for some reason I felt reluctant to shove them all behind the clock this year.  Instead I clustered them in front of the clock in a huddle, looking off into the distance, and I'll turn them to look at the Baby Jesus when it's time for them to appear.  Or maybe I'll have it all taken down and put away by then.  It's that kind of year, isn't it?

This afternoon while the last two loads of laundry were sloshing around I finished Cast Sock #7.  There definitely isn't enough of this yarn left to make another one but there's too much left to throw away.  This is why knitters end up with bags of tiny balls of yarn that aren't useful for anything but are too good to toss.

 

 

07 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Chapter 20

            He stiffened at first but then he turned and put his arm around my waist.  "I am glad I'm here too."  His full lips brushed my hairline and unleashed another one of his electric charges along my spine.

            I had suggested that we all go down to Johnno's for a drink to celebrate Mr. Gomez's completion of clearing the first cargo container but when I was putting my sewing machine into a tote with some of that anti-moisture silica gel stuff in it, I had spilled some of the gel so I wanted to sweep it up before going to the beach bar.  I walked back into the lobby with the broom and was startled to see Iggy standing there.

            "Oh, Iggy, you startled me.  I thought you had already gone down to Johnno's with the boys."  I waved the broom at him.  "I just want to sweep up the mess I made before I run a comb through my hair and head on down there myself."

            He nodded but didn't say anything; then he reached over, took the broom and did the sweeping for me.  He even swept the pellets into the dust pan and dumped them into the trash, but he didn't say a word.

            "I'm glad you waited for me, though, and thanks for cleaning up my spill."  I stepped around behind the counter and pulled out a little make-up bag I had stashed there.  We had spent so many days doing filthy work that I wanted to have a few things on hand in case I wanted to brush my teeth or comb my hair to feel a bit more human.  I dragged the comb through my short, fine hair and smiled up at Iggy.  "I supposed I only made it worse, right?  I knew I should have put a little mirror in here."  I looked in the bag again, as if one might magically appear.

            "I think you look fine," he finally said.  He sounded stiff and formal like he had when he first came to work for me.

            It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if something was wrong but decided to keep my mouth shut for once, and let whatever was bothering him run its course.

            He pulled the front doors closed, locked them, and then latched them with a padlock.  After the break-in and fire that first night, none of us was willing to chance having it happen again.  While Iggy dealt with the doors, I latched all the windows and made sure that there was nothing worth stealing visible through them.  I went upstairs to check and make sure that Silas and Edward had closed and locked all the doors and windows up there too.  The rooms had access to the gallery that ran the width of the hotel and it would be very easy for someone young and determined to hoist himself up and get in.

            Iggy was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs in the suddenly stuffy and close lobby sitting room.  I thought he looked pretty sexy in his faded soft blue jeans and his washed-a-hundred-times shirt, but I would bite off my tongue before I said so.  He had always held himself with such dignity and been so polite and proper; I was pretty sure he had no interest in an American widow who was frittering away her inheritance on a dream.

            When I reached the bottom step he didn't move.  I stepped down onto the floor, standing right in front of him, close enough to smell the warm, salty sweat of his labors that day.  I looked up at him.  "Iggy...?"

            His hands came up and cupped my jaw; his eyes drilled into mine, and his lips, his soft sensuous lips the color of the sweetest of ripe plums, descended on mine.

Today's toss was an actual toss.  I was looking for something down in the laundry area and came upon an old bath mat with the rubber backing flaking off.  I carried it's crackly old self right upstairs and popped it directly into the garbage bin.   Why did I keep it so long?  Haven't got a clue but it's gone now.

Writing turned into whining today.  Not that I mind, writing is writing, but whining on paper isn't very satisfying.

--Barbara