... and didn't blog last night. Sorry but I got home too late and I was tired. No, I hadn't had too much (or actually anything alcoholic) to drink, I was just tired so I went to bed. It was a fun party, a St. Patrick's Day party with a real, from Ireland musician who played guitar and sang for an hour or so. Very fun. Lots of good things to eat too. I made Reuben Dip from a recipe I clipped from the newspaper the week before. It was tasty and I forgot to take its picture when it was served. I brought home a bit of it and had it for lunch with the remaining little rye breads. Yum.
My tulips have sprouted too. They'll take the longest to make flowers but I'm happy to see their leaves poking up.
The robin came back for a drink this morning and I didn't over-correct the color so you can see that it is indeed a robin.
The bluejay swooped in to eat quite a few suet pellets from the platform feeder too. I don't know how it flies in there without clonking its head but it does.
I dug out some plain old yarn yesterday and a crochet hook and started crocheting a nest. It looks too big even though I followed the directions and measured it. I'm debating whether to continue with it or rip it out.
This unassuming bottled soda is the Sprecher's Ginger Ale that I've been chasing all over town. Turns out it was at Festival Foods all along. I don't really shop there much so it never occurred to me to stop there but in my frustration after Friday night's debacle I called there yesterday, the nice young man checked, and said that they had a whole shelf full of the stuff. Whew. I won't be drinking wine at the knitting escape so I wanted to bring along something a little special for me.24 March--Tropical Obsession.
At first Sharon felt out of place. Not that anyone had made her feel like an outsider. Far from it. Diego’s family and friends couldn’t have been more welcoming. Even his mother and sisters, who she expected to greet her with false smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, had seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. Once they saw how happy and well cared for Diego was they were positively effusive (and how’s that for a ten-dollar word?). They were all crammed in the tiny house in the country that Diego grew up in. It was a swirling mass of brothers and their wives, sisters and their husbands, aunts, uncles, cousins, and too many children to count. Sharon was just beginning to relax, then the crowd parted and she saw Maria standing in the doorway holding the hand of a pretty little girl who could only be Diego’s child. She looked just like him.
I went out for a walk while it was sunny late this morning and ended up in the backyard working to wrestle the soaker hose out from behind the retaining wall. It's been there a few years and the two stooges who replaced the privacy fence a couple years ago managed to bury it pretty well but the biggest problem is that it's caught between the wall timber and a volunteer tree so I need to go to Fleet Farm tomorrow or Tuesday for a little saw so I can cut the timber and free the hose. Why? Because I want to double up the soaker hose in next summer's straw bale garden, that's why. My hands got all nice and muddy too. It felt good to get dirty and a little sweaty.
--Barbara
1 comment:
No question about it -- that's a robin in your backyard. And tulips sprouting. Stop the presses -- Spring is on the way! The plot thickens in the Tropical Obsession world. A surprising child?? Something amiss there. That ginger ale looks special to me. Who needs wine? Glad to see you're ready to tackle the shawl pattern you bought down here. Those colors look beautiful.
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