That was my view from my yoga mat this morning. It seems like each type of bird has their own time at the feeders and birdbath. The doves come around 8:30 AM, spend a little time checking to see what's fallen and if it's good to eat, try to wriggle into the platform feeder (they're too tall), and have a sip of water. If I move too much, even though the big light is turned off, they fly away. For just a few minutes a handful of flakes drifted down, not enough to cover anything but they were visible.
I spent some time this morning surfing WW cookbooks and some recipes I found and made a shopping list for the investment cooking I'm planning for the weekend. Then on the way home from the Y (before all my muscles seized up) I stopped at Meijer for the groceries. Except, of course, they didn't have any fennel bulbs but I called Pick 'n Save from the Meijer parking lot to see if they had some so I didn't make a trip over for nothing. See all the pretty food?
Just before leaving for the Y this male Downy Woodpecker came for a snack at the seed wreath. I'm so glad I got that wreath. Now I get to watch woodpeckers and chickadees close up.
Today I made Herbed Slow-Cooker Chicken from Taste of Home. You make a paste with olive oil, herbs and spices, and browning sauce, rub it on the chicken breasts with bones & skin (I peeled the skin back, rubbed it on the meat, then flapped the skin back to preserve the juiciness), and cook it for 4-5 hours. I read the comments and diced up half of a large onion and cut up a bok choy that I put on the bottom so I'd have some veggies to go with it. Smelled really great and tasted good too. The other recipes I'm making this weekend are WW Slow-Cooker Vegetable and Farro Stew (from my Christmas cookbook from DS & family), WW Curried Lentil Stew with Butternut, Kale, and Coconut (from the same cookbook), WW French Onion Soup, and WW Moroccan Chickpea-Stuffed Acorn Squash. All of these make low points foods with veggies in that I can eat with the chicken breasts I made today. Once I have everything made I'll portion it out, freeze it, and be able to stick to the way I want to eat (when I'm in my right mind).
I got a package yesterday from my knitting friend and yoga teacher who moved to Washington state a few years back. Inside was a lovely letter, these balls of novelty yarn, and a book of patterns. Patterns to make knitted and crocheted toilet paper roll covers. I kid you not! I flipped through the book and that's truly the sole purpose of all of the patterns. I don't know that I'll ever make them but I am gobsmacked that not only did some knit designer compile the manuscript but some publisher printed and sold it. Amazing.
10 January--Tropical Obsession. A few
more steps across the blackened rock, careful not to get tangled in the
grasping branches of the sea grape colonizing the edge, and Jack could look
down into the sea. Water the color of liquid turquoise lapped at the base of
the rock where it plunged underwater, hissing and foaming in the spaces. The
cliff face, all of the rock on this tiny island, was ancient reef pushed into
the air by forces deep within the planet. Jack used his hand to shade his eyes
as he scanned the shallows for his quarry. The water was so clear and the sand
so white beneath it that even the smallest movement was visible. He saw schools
of fish going about their business. He watched groups of Bar Jacks hunting,
darting to scatter smaller fish when they struck. He saw the silver blade of a
solitary Barracuda patrolling the reef edge, waiting for an opportunity to
pounce on the unwary. All seemed normal. He turned to the cab driver standing
nervously behind the open door of his van. "Are you sure this is where you
heard Manning ask to go?" As the driver nodded, licking his lips to
moisten them, his mouth suddenly dry from the thread of menace in Jack's voice,
neither man noticed a hand reach up over the lip of the drop-off and slowly
close around Jack's ankle. Pulled off-balance and flailing in the heartless
air, Jack fell silently onto the tumbled boulders at the base of the cliff,
then his unconscious form rolled into the cool water. Manning clung to the
ironshore rocks and sea grape roots for a moment to watch Jack's body being sliced
and shredded by the waves until he noticed the first predators vector in from
the navy blue of deeper water. He pulled himself up onto the top of the cliff,
rolled over the sea grape and stood up, dusting his hands on his shorts.
"Not a bad acting job, Evert," he said, clapping the driver on the
back. Evert gave him a mute look, went around the back of the van, and lost his
breakfast in the thorny scrub, drawing an interested audience of lizards.
Manning climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. "Mount up; I'll
drive. I think we could both use a Polar, maybe a whole six-pack." Evert
emerged from the bush dragging a shaky hand over his mouth, got into the van,
and slammed the door. Manning jammed through the gears and drove south in a flurry
of gravel, leaving only a small dust cloud to mark Jack's passing.
There. That bit of writing right there is why I want to get this bunch of disjointed pieces assembled into a cohesive story. There are more pieces that come before and after this in the story but the order I'm putting it on here is the order I wrote it in and when I wrote it I couldn't see how to rearrange it. Too close to it, I guess. That's why you're going to be getting the pieces on here until I can figure out what in the dickens to do with it.
Remember I said that the sun shone this afternoon? Well, it even made a halfway decent sunset. It's slightly annoying that the sun sets behind the trees and neighbor's house instead of over the used car lot at the end of the street as nature intended but it's still pretty, don't you think? Time for Tylenol and sleepy time.--Barbara
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