I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I opened the shades this morning. Snow, a couple inches of it, so I got out my fleece pants, pulled on socks and boots, and went out to clear the driveway. It's perfect snowman-building snow and if I didn't have to go to work in about half an hour I'd for sure be out there making one. Then once I was already sweaty I went out to fill all the feeders since fresh snow covers any spilled seed. I asked Durwood to take my picture when I was out there, he took about 30. It kind of made me retroactively self-conscious. Happily many of them were out of focus and got dumped (one of the greatest things about digital).
I spent most of yesterday contorting myself around cupboard doors and drawers to install safety latches. I got about half of them done, the most important, most dangerous ones. I love my little Black and Decker cordless tools. I wish the screwdriver was a pistol shape rather than straight but it still works a whole lot easier than using a screwdriver, and I ordered a couple new batteries from Amazon so that I don't have to keep switching them from one tool to the other. It gives me a feeling of competence and satisfaction to be able to do stuff like that and fix little things.
December 8--Camille Pissarro, The Boulevard Montmartre on a Winter Morning. Gayle sat at a table at the sidewalk cafe even though the winter day was chilly and light rain fell. She refused to miss sitting in a Parisian sidewalk cafe. She felt like she was in a painting by Toulouse-Lautrec or Pissarro even though the exhaust and horns from the cabs and autos were probably not much worse than the clop of horses' hooves and the grind of carriage wheels would have been a hundred years before. As the thought crossed her mind the light seemed to lurch and the pace of the city slowed, cars faded into carriages, and the blare of horses was replaced by shouts and the crack of whips. Gayle's coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth as she watched the world around her shimmer and shift from a winter's day in 2014 to a morning in the Belle Epoque.
Time for breakfast... Cheerios, here I come. Have a ___ day (fill in the blank as you'd like).
--Barbara
When I went out to nab the newspaper around 7 o'clock this morning I realized that the light was pink. When I glanced to my left (east), this is what I saw, and I have to tell you that this is a pale reproduction of the real glory of the sky this morning. Made up for it being about 10 degrees, sorta.
Last night the glory was on our supper plates because I used the last schnipples of the Thanksgiving turkey to make a turkey pot pie. Turkeys would elbow each other out of the way to be in this pie if they knew how good it was. The only hitch was I followed the recipe directions and cut it into 6 servings like I used to when the kids were home and we were eating more than we do now. Eighths would have been better for us oldsters, but we'll manage to choke it down. We're martyrs like that.
At Friday Night Knitting Circle, HH gave me a skein of sock yarn. I don't know where she found it, maybe in Goodwill, but it's 1 oz. of Bear Brand Deluxe Sock and Sport, all virgin wool, Wonderized, anti-shrink, anti-matting (which means it's superwash in today's lingo) in a gorgeous rust red, and the price sticker says fifty cents. I think it's a new sticker too. I wonder what it cost when it was first for sale.
This morning Durwood noticed that the male Red-bellied Woodpecker had stopped at the peanut wreath for a snack. I managed to snap one shot through the window and the screen before it flew off. We love seeing it.
December 7--The Netherlands, Carefree in Poverty. The fire felt good. Claire's shoes and socks were soaking wet and she felt like her toes would never be warm again. She hung her coat over the back of a wooden chair and pulled it closer to the fire so it would be dry in the morning. Everything smelled like wet wool or wet dog, it had been too long since the last dry and sunny day. The dampness had settled in and even her nightly mug of cinnamon-orange tea didn't chase the chill completely.
Today is the 73rd anniversary of Pearl Harbor. It doesn't seem like it could have been that long ago, it happened only 10 years before I was born and I'm only... oh... I guess that makes sense since I'm 63 years old. Who is this old woman that has stolen my body? Today I'm installing safety latches on all the kitchen and bathroom cupboards and drawers because someone is exploring and we want to keep her safe when she's here. It's a lot harder than it used to be to pop up from sitting on the floor to get another latch or screw or tool. I didn't make it to doing laundry yesterday so I guess I'd better toddle down the stairs and get that going. Can't be seen in dirty clothes, can I? Enjoy your Sunday, even though the Packers aren't playing today, they're playing tomorrow night... which means I get to drive across town after work right into the stream of cars heading to the stadium. With any luck people will get there early enough and I'll dawdle at work a bit so everyone'll be tucked safely into the stadium by the time I get to Oneida St. and Ridge Rd. which are the danger points. Whew, glad I got that figured out.
--Barbara
I purposely didn't sit down to blog because I can get caught up in reading emails and recipes and surfing facebook and checking out other blogs and end up sitting here for the better part of 2 hours if I don't have to go to work so I just decided not to. I got a lot knitted on my Landscapes Wrap, through the first 2 (55 yd.) skeins (River Crossing) and into the first of the other color (Autumn Trails). The change isn't quite as dramatic in real life as it looks here. I'm planning to knit with the Autumn Trails for about 5 inches or so and then switch back to the River Crossing for 5 inches or so,and finish off with a few inches of each color, then it gets an I-cord edging on the top, cast on edge. I think I'm going to like this one a lot, it'll be warm and thick and cozy.
Durwood worked hard on the Wisconsin Squirrel Report yesterday and he got some great shots of the latest gymnast that has figured out the steps he needs to take to get up on the peanut wreath. I tried to move the herb pots so his first perch wasn't available but I'd left it too long and the pots are frozen to the cement. Dang it. I don't mind seeing the little tree rat dangling from its back feet munching on a peanut since I've got a 20 gallon can full of peanuts in the shell.
Some bird met its end in our backyard over the last couple days. I spotted this pile of feathers under the park bench where the flower pots live. It looks like a dove, there are plenty of them since I just read that while they only lay one or two eggs at a time, they can have up to 12 clutches a season. Lots of doves available for winter food for the feral cat, which is what I suspect left that feather pile.
When I left work on Thursday the full moon was just peeking through the branches of the tree in the next yard and this morning the full moon was setting in the west. One of these days I'll figure out how to take a moon picture without that halo effect but I like these anyway.
December 6--The Netherlands, Sorgheloos ("Carefree") in Poverty. Star didn't know they were poor until Emily told her at recess in second grade. "You wear the same dress every day," Emily said, her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't you have another one?" Star looked at the red and blue plaid dress she wore. "I like it," she said. "What's wrong with it?" "Only poor people wear the same things every day, you must be poor. Mama says people that live on Second Street like you do are second-class citizens and are poor." "Second class? We're in the second grade," said Star, "that's called a class, isn't it? That makes you second-class too." then she ran away so Emily wouldn't see her tears.
Lordy, kids can be cruel, can't they? I've got a few chores to do today, like laundry, and some Christmas gifts to work on. I was thrilled that I thought to stop at Toys R Us yestrday and found the last big set of wooden building blocks. All I could find were foam ones and plastic ones and I wanted actual, tree-grown wood blocks. They don't tell kids how to play with them. I'm amazed to find that Legos and Duplos (little kid Legos) only come in "build this" packages, there aren't any sets of just plain bricks for imaginative play. It's getting hard to find toys that kids can play with instead of toys that play for kids. Okay, end of rant, we're going out to meet friends for breakfast. Later.
--Barbara
Durwood and I got married, and I'm really glad we did. If I hadn't married Durwood I'd never have gone to Malaysia or Singapore or Manila or Palau or learned to dive. (Doesn't everyone want to dive?) I'd have missed out on DS and DD and their lovely spouses and LC and that would have been a tragedy. I'd never have gone hot-air ballooning one time if Durwood hadn't pushed me and then convinced me that "SCUBA diving is just like hot-air ballooning except quieter" and where would my life be without SCUBA diving? Where would I be working? Someplace boring, I'm certain of it. So, thanks for proposing, Durwood, and thanks for being my best cheerleader and encouragement and traveling partner all these years. I'd do it all again.
Today is going to be another one of those barely light, cold days that make it so hard to keep cheerful in the winter. Thank god for broad-spectrum lights in every room, and for little white "happy" pills.
I did end up frogging the Landscapes Wrap at work, casting on again, and before bed I knitted through the first skein. When your skeins are only 55 yards of super bulky yarn you don't get far but I have a plan to join another of the same skein so that the top strip is a decent width and then I'll use my judgement about when to add in the alternate color. Naturally I only have 3 skeins of each color, the yarn's discontinued, and I want to knit it out of stash so no searching for more but I think I have a good plan and, even better, I think knitting this wrap might have given me an idea for a BLKG Design-a-Thon entry. Finally.
I saw these at Walmart the other day. Would you have been able to resist? I couldn't.
December 4--Josiah Wedgewood and Sons, Portland Vase. Max brought the vase down hard on Henry's head as soon as Henry stepped through the storeroom door. Henry collapsed on his face and lay unmoving, blood pouring from a three-inch gash over his right ear. "Head wounds bleed a lot," Max muttered, dropping the neck of the broken vase and stepping over Henry's body. "Serves you right for being so nosy." Max resumed packing Native American artifacts in cotton wool and fitting them into his briefcase. As small as they were, the little stone carvings fetched big money on the black market. There were more than enough collectors willing to keep their mouths shut in order to own something so rare.
I feel a bowl of oatmeal coming on. Happy St. Barbara's Day! (No, really, it is.)
--Barbara
For a minute there a few days ago it was warmish and Friday's snow started to melt but yesterday the Polar Vortex returned and it got windy and I'm freezing. It was so cold that I made hot chocolate when I got home from work. It's not even officially winter yet and I'm already tired of it and our street is so icy that I have to go downhill to leave. Yesterday I was going about 15 mph and drifted around the corner rather than turn. Maybe I should give the Public Works Dept. a call. We need some sand or salt.
Durwood's been having fun taking bird and squirrel pictures with his DSLR pawn shop camera and since I don't have any today, he's letting me use his. Isn't that nice?
So, cranberries. I'm kind of obsessed right now. Maybe because we drove through the cranberry bogs on our way across WI in August. DD and I discussed the possibilities and she surprised me by saying that she's come to like cranberry relish, you know, the kind where you grind raw cranberries and an orange, stir in lots of sugar and then gobble it up. I'm thinking I'll alternate cooked and relish until I have to either get my stomach pumped, thaw out the bag of frozen ones, or eat so much I won't want to look another cranberry in the face for the rest of my life... although I did see a recipe for cranberry bread pudding. That has possibilities, I think, then there's always cranberry bread, cranberry muffins, and isn't there cranberry juice in a Cosmo? At least I won't have any bladder infections anytime soon.
December 2--William John Hennessy, An Old Song. Louisa's fingers moved over the piano keys and the notes fell like ice onto the marble floor. The stark sadness of the piece chilled her to her soul and she felt like weeping as she played, but her spine was straight and her lips never quivered even when tears trembled on her lashes. Madame would never tolerate base emotion during a lesson and God help her if she displayed any more warmth than a marble state at her recital.
Can you believe it's December? I'm just stunned and not prepared for that holiday that'll appear before we know it. Lists, I need lists!
--Barbara
I looked at the pictures I took at the zoo the other day, thinking about how many different animals we fed. That's when it occurred to me that by the time I put my gloves back on I had sheep, goat, alpaca, deer, and giraffe slobber on my hands--and the hand cleaning station was closed for winter. That meant I had all that mixed animal slobber in my gloves. Mmm, they smelled a little gamy. So yesterday I got out some wool wash (because of course I have white wool gloves) and gave them a little bath. Much better.
Yesterday I also made another batch of cooked cranberry sauce. See, we'd finished the batch that was made for our Thanksgiving feast on Saturday but we didn't feel done eating it, so I made more. Have you ever made it? When the cranberries cook, they pop. Yeah, like popcorn, then the sauce gets that gorgeous shiny red color and it jells as it cools. Oh, and I did try a spoonful of cranberry sauce (sauce, not relish) with my pumpkin pie and I like it. The sweet and creamy pumpkin custard is enhanced by the tart piquancy of the cranberry sauce. I made a pot of turkey carcass soup with carrots, onions, celery, green beans (no, not the Campbell's Soup casserole ones, plain ones) and a cup of leftover gravy. It's pretty darned good. Lunch will be Thanksgiving-y for the next couple weeks and that's not bad.
The clouds were extra pretty when I was out filling birdfeeders yesterday afternoon and when I turned around from filling the squirrel corn I just had to take a picture of the setting sun. I hate that the sun sets so early (this is barely 3:30 pm and already the sun's that low) but since today's December 1 I know that means we've only got 22 more days before the days start getting longer. Woohoo!
I forgot my notebook at home and was too busy to blog before I left so there's no little blurp of story today. Try not to be too disappointed. I'll try to do better tomorrow but I make no promises.
--Barbara
