Everybody Likes Variety

That was what I thought when I caught sight of this Oriole fledgling sampling the Hummingbird nectar this morning.  It stayed on the feeder a long time so I took lots of shots of it.  I love digital cameras.  I can press that shutter button as many times as I want and not worry about running out of "film."  Not for a very long time anyway.


I went to the Y this morning after my chiro appointment to walk on a treadmill for a while.  I can't figure out why it's so much easier to walk there than on the street.  I set the pace and incline so it isn't like I'm walking slow and on the flat, but it's easier.

After lunch I had an appointment with my Edw. Jones financial advisor.  It was time to go over my portfolio and the market has been so volatile that I wanted to hear what she had to say about it.  What she said was that my money will last past my 90th birthday if I don't start living on a yacht in Monaco and renting gigolos.  No problem, neither of those are in my future plans.

I stopped at Camera Corner to see if I could find a smaller camera bag that will fit more easily into my carry-on and I did.  This bag is rip-stop nylon, is the exact size for my camera, lens, charger, and batteries.  I figure I'll put socks over the lenses to pad them a bit and bag up the batteries, charger, etc. just so they're not rattling around in there.  And it was less than $20.  Score!



I've kind of hit my stride on the Choco Rainbow Sock.  I figure if I manage one repeat of the pattern a day I'll have it done in no time--which might be bad since it's the main knitting I'm taking along on my trip.  I guess I could start another sock with the same yarn if I finish it but I'd definitely use a different stitch pattern and maybe even make it toe-up. (Ooh, what a rebel!)

19 August--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

The silence that fell over us at those words pulled the breath right out of my lungs.  I don't think Abel had planned to say that.  We looked at each other in shock.  I moved first.

"Well, since you're already here you might as well come in and warm up.  I'll put on some coffee while you get out of those wet clothes."

            I turned and fled into the kitchen trying to process those three words.

           "I love you."

            Did he mean to say that?  It sounded so natural the way he said it.  Bert had hardly ever said those words to me, or to anyone else for that matter, not that I ever heard anyway.  Was Abel one of those people for whom those words came easy?  Did he tell all sorts of people he loved them?

           “I love you.”   

            The words echoed in my head as I made coffee.  Good thing I’d been making it for so many years because I paid no attention to what I was doing.  I could have been scooping sand for all I noticed.

           “I love you.”  

            Not words to be taken lightly.  Was I supposed to say them back?  Any minute he'd be walking into the kitchen and I felt like I was still pale with the shock of hearing “I love you” so casually.  I needed to stop being so silly and just go with the flow, as the kids used to say.

            I could hear him knocking the snow off his boots and shaking out his snowmobile suit as I got out mugs and pulled some vegetable beef soup out of the fridge, poured it into a pot, and put it on to heat.  He came into the kitchen on a rush of cold air, rubbing his hands together.

            “Brr.  I was colder than I thought and I think some snow went down my neck.”  He peered over my shoulder as I stirred the soup.  “Oh boy, that smells good.  What kind is it?”

            “Vegetable beef barley.  I made it yesterday.  I always like to have a pot on hand in the winter.  There’s nothing like soup to warm you up.”  I looked at his feet.  “Oh good, you found some shoes out there.  I never could bring myself to get rid of Bert’s old scuffs.  They’re so handy when I come in from yard work.”

            Abel chuckled.  “These might look like Bert’s scuffs but they’re mine.  I stuffed them in my pockets before I left home.  It’s my Boy Scout training.  You know, be prepared?”

            “Oh, I know all about being prepared.  All three of my boys are Eagle Scouts and Bert was a leader for a while.  Grab a couple spoons from that drawer under the dish drainer, will you please?  I think everything’s ready.”  I had poured two mugs of coffee and was ladling out the soup when, with a little pop, all the lights went out.  “Oh dear, the lines must have gone down.  I hope they come back on soon.  It’ll be awful cold without the furnace running.”

            Abel jumped up.  “If you tell me where your firewood is, I’ll get the fireplace lit.”

            “Sit, Abel, sit.  The house won’t cool off that fast.  Eat your soup while it’s hot.  I’ve got a fire all laid and as soon as we’re done eating we can get it burning.”

One good thing about snow is that it gathers and reflects whatever light is around.  It's never really dark, even in the middle of the night, so I could see Abel in the soft glow from the window.         

“Wonderful soup, Gail.  I can feel its warmth all the way down to my toes.”

As we ate, the wind seemed to pick up and rattled the windows.  “Sounds like you made it here just in time, Abel.”

            “Glad I’m here, huh?”  And he grinned at me like a schoolboy.

            “Yes, I’m glad you’re here instead of out in that storm.”  I ate a few more bites.  “But I still think you’re nuts.”

            Once the soup was finished, we went into the living room and Abel knelt in front of the fireplace.  I could see he was planning to be the big, strong man and re-lay the fire after the little woman tried her best.  But years of listening to Bert instruct the boys in fire building had made me into a pretty good fire maker myself.  Seeing nothing to fix, Abel took a match from the box on the mantle, dragged it on the sandpaper on the side, and touched the flame to the crumpled newspaper.  Once the kindling and smaller branches had caught, he stood up, dusting off his hands as though he’d done more than just strike a match.

            “You lay a nice fire, Gail.”

            “Thanks, Abel, I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.  One of these days the county will finally bury the power lines and then we won’t have this problem anymore.”

Abel picked up the poker and started stirring the fire and put on another log.

“While you’re playing with the fire,” I said, “why don’t I put the rest of the coffee in the thermal pot and see if I can’t find some cookies for dessert?”

            “Sounds great,” Abel said over his shoulder.

            When I got back with the tray of coffee and cookies, he had finished poking the fire and sat in one of the chairs by the hearth.  He jumped up as soon as he saw me and pulled over a side table for the tray.  The fire was blazing and throwing a lot of heat.  “You’re a good fire tender, Abel.”

            “Thanks.  Your fireplace has a great draft.  Did Bert build it?”

            “No, he didn’t.”  I sat down in the chair on the other side of the hearth.  “This old house has been here way longer than any of us have been alive and I figure whoever built the fireplace needed it for warmth rather than looks and made it right.”

I poured the coffee and nudged the plate of cookies toward him, a little embarrassed that there was nothing better than sugar cookies and pink spritz left.

"Mmm, I love spritz cookies," he said, taking a couple. "The red sprinkles are a bonus."

           "That's polite of you to say, Abel, but these are just the Christmas leftovers.  I made nut balls, molasses cookies, English toffee, and my cutouts were works of art this year.  But I sent most of them to the kids and ate too many myself.  You’re stuck with what’s left."

"Doesn't matter to me," he said around a mouthful of cookie.  "Marcella always made such a production out of Christmas, deciding on a theme, planning the tree decorations on graph paper first, and devoting an entire weekend to baking the most elaborate cookies she could find.  She disdained, that's the only word for it, disdained the old traditional cookies I've always liked best.  These are terrific."

             My mind was boggled by the thought of having the time to make such a production of Christmas.  "At least they're not stale, right?"  Just then the lights came back on with a snap.  "Well, shit!" I said; it slipped out before I could catch it.  "Oh, excuse my language."

            After a moment’s pause Abel laughed and said, “So, Gail, did you say shit because the lights came on and I can leave or because they didn’t stay off so I’d have an excuse to stay?”

            “I, uh…”  I could feel a blush rising in my cheeks.  “I guess a little of both.  I, um, enjoy your company, Abel.  But I’m not sure I want us to get too close too fast, if you know what I mean.”  By the time I’d stumbled through that prissy little speech, I could feel that even my ears were red.  I was glad I hadn’t turned on any lights in the living room.  Why couldn’t I spend more than ten minutes in this man’s company without putting my foot in my mouth?

            Before Abel could speak, the lights went out again.  This time accompanied by a shower of sparks from the transformer on the pole just past the turn in the road.

            “I think that’s it for your electricity until the county boys can get out here tomorrow and restring the lines,” he said.  “And don’t worry, Gail, I don’t have designs on you.  Well, actually, I do, but I’m willing to be patient.”  He paused as if he expected me to say something, but I was stunned into silence.  “And since it looks like someone will need to keep the fire going all night so you don’t freeze, I volunteer.  And I’ll sleep on the couch.”

            “Thank you, Abel.”  My voice came out in a croak, forced through my paralyzed vocal cords by sheer guts.  “I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow.”  I started to get up but he waved me back into my chair.

            “Don’t be in such a rush.  It’s not even seven o’clock.  We’ve got the whole evening ahead of us.”

I got a call this evening from the carpet place that my bathroom flooring is in and the guy will come to install it tomorrow.  Woohoo!  It's about time, the sheet vinyl in there now is the original that I picked out 41 years ago when we built this place.  It's not worn out either.  He'll put it in the front and garage entries too.  I can't wait.  Did I tell you that when we had to redo all the floors on the rental side I found some click-together vinyl that looked like slate and wanted to order enough to have our bathroom and entries done but Durwood said it'd make the room too dark "like a cave" so I just ordered enough for next door.  Then when we went over to see all the new floors he exclaimed over the bathroom floor, said it looked elegant, and that we should do the same on our side.  No, I didn't bash his teeth in, didn't even say, "but I wanted to..."  I just shook my head and kept my mouth shut.  I am a saint.  Just ask me.
--Barbara