Deep

I went outside yesterday to plug the birdbath heater back in and realized that I had to put boots on to get out there to pour water in and brush off the inches of snow that had piled up.  Imagine my surprise when snow got in my boots.  It was way deeper than I thought it'd be and way softer so I sunk down into the snow thereby allowing it to get into my boots and get my socks wet.  No fun.




It didn't take long for the birds to realize that the open water was back.  This Mourning Dove came to perch on the sole remaining crook out back and even stayed there long enough for me to snap its picture.






I knitted the last February Preemie Hat yesterday.  It's a micro preemie size (fits on a clementine) and boggles my mind that a tiny baby with that small of a head survives and thrives.






Today I went to have lunch with DS down at the brewery.  He'd gotten a grain delivery so he was busy making his first batch of Good Dog Porter which they've been out of for about two weeks.  It'll take two weeks for it to be brewed but it's coming.  He has two other batches of two different beers bubbling away in fermenting tanks.


I made Egg Drop Soup yesterday so I'd have some for lunch and to share.  I did it on the spur of the moment and didn't have the exact ingredients the recipe calls for.  Instead of two cartons of chicken broth, I had one of beef and one of chicken.  No biggie, I figure that broth is broth.  Instead of a bunch of scallions, I had half of a big sweet onion.  Still onion.  Instead of two cups of chicken breast, I had all of the dark meat from a rotisserie chicken.  Still chicken.  Instead of bok choy, I had a partial bag of frozen peas.  Still green.  I've gotta say that this might be one of my best efforts, soup-wise.  I made careful notes and will make it this way again; the chicken/beef combo seems to be the key.  Soup is the perfect lunch on such a frigid day.



These are the spent grains after the baby beer is drained off into a different tank.  It smelled like baking bread when I got there.  A farmer from Lena reached out to DS and drops off barrels for the spent grains that he feeds to his livestock so he gets the grains and DS doesn't have to dispose of it.  I know I've seen a recipe for baking bread using spent brewing grains.  I've got to look it up and give it a whirl.


I was so excited to see the brewing in action.  The tanks are huge and shiny and there's lots of water involved but it's basically the same process as home brewing, just on a grander scale.  I'm so proud of my little boy making his dream a reality.  Tonight a couple of the knitters at the Guild meeting made a point to come over to me to say how much they like the place and the Guild officers (of which I am one) decided that Zambaldi is the perfect place for a Sunday afternoon board meeting which they held while I was in Florida.  I'll make the next one.  So gratifying.


20 February--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

It was 9:45 PM Sunday, June 13.  Archibald and Graybow have been called to the scene of yet another murder.  This time in the local tennis club.  Archibald and Graybow were dressed as if they never left work, rumpled suits, wrinkled white shirts, ties askew.  The locker room of the club was brightly lit.  The locker area was just inside the door.  The rows of lockers are a pale salmon color, the floor sand colored ceramic tile, the walls a light turquoise.  The wooden benches between the rows of lockers are a natural oak.  Kimmy’s body was slumped into her locker as though she were seated on the bench when she was killed.  On closer examination we see that she’s wearing only one shoe and sock.  A bag from Kitty’s Korner bookstore is on the floor next to her.  Archibald, Graybow, and the crime scene crew are in the room.  Everyone is wearing latex gloves, there are camera flashes as the photographer records the scene.  The morgue crew, lounging near the sinks in an area beyond the lockers, are awaiting the signal to remove the body. 

Lars, the tennis pro at the club, sat on a bench a couple rows away from but in sight of the body, being questioned by Archibald and Graybow.  Archibald stood with his left foot on the bench and leaned toward Lars, crowding him.  Graybow stood with his arms folded across his chest, glaring down at the hapless tennis pro.  Lars had his head in his hands and was shaking his head in denial of their accusation that he killed Kimmy.

Archibald advised, “Why don’t you just tell us what happened.”

“We finished our game and she came in here to change.  That’s it.  When I came to find out if she was ready to leave, there she was.  Dead!”  Lars spoke as if he’s having trouble believing what he’s saying.

“Yeah, you just came in here a few minutes after your game and there she was.  You didn’t hear anything or see anyone,” Archibald repeated dryly.

Lars looked up.  “Exactly.  There was no one else here.  Just Kimmy and me.”  His hands rose to cover his face.  “Who did this?” he cried.

Leaning menacingly toward the grieving man, Archibald growled, “I figure you and she had an argument and you got mad and killed her.”

“No! I didn’t do that!  We had a good game and now she’s dead.”

“A good game.  I heard you and she had more than a game,” Archibald sneered.

Lars sighed, “Not tonight.  We just played tennis.”

Graybow asked, “What do you mean, not tonight?”

“Well...we’ve had a relationship for a while.  But I love her--loved her--and just wanted to make her happy.”  At the realization of what has happened to his lover, Lars shoulders slump even lower.  He’s slowly collapsing in on himself.

Archibald pounced on the admission of the affair.  “Oh, you love her, do you?  Maybe she told you that she was staying with her husband and you got mad and killed her.”

Lars head roses rapidly, his posture suddenly erect.  “No!  She was planning to leave her husband, yes.  But I’d never kill her.  I wanted to take care of her.”

“You took care of her all right.  She looked like your ticket out of this town, didn’t she?  And when she told you she was breaking off the relationship, you slipped in here and murdered her!”

“No!  It’s not like you say!  We were in love.  She was learning to be a trainer.  Did you see the books in her locker?  We were going to work together.  Be together.  Now that’s over.”  Lars seemed drained by the emotions of the last hour.

“It’s over all right,” Archibald snarled, “You can bet I’ll figure out how you did this.”

I had a great session with T the Trainer today.  It feels so good to work my muscles especially on a day like today when it's bitter cold.  Sunny but in the single digits.  Sunny is always good.  Eighty degrees colder than Tuesday isn't so good.  BUT my first writing friend, cda, called this morning to say that she'd registered me when she registered herself for the week writing workshop at The Clearing in September.  I'd been dialing for forty-five minutes getting a busy signal so I was over the moon when she called to say that we're in.  Hooray!
--Barbara