Well.
We did manage to have a wonderful visit this week with my mother and stepdad, but only despite rather sobering obstacles.
On Monday, their arrival day, I was just starting to work up my One Local Summer post when I noticed Cairo licking his under-tail area. Remembering that the s.o. had complained of not being able to sleep because of "Cairo licking himself," I took a look. It turned out he was oozing and bleeding from a vicious wound that looked like someone had stabbed him with an ice pick. As soon as we stopped him from licking it, it started to get everywhere. We tried stopping the flow, but it worsened. We called the vet and they told us to get his butt (so to speak) into the office pronto.
Four or five hours later, the s.o. brought an unhappy e-collar-wearing Cairo home with a bag full of antibiotics and painkillers. Cairo had an abscessed gland. He was still bleeding and oozing like crazy and, for the first 24 hours until it dried up a bit, had to be locked in the bathroom. This caused him to cry all night, and Gracie to whimper constantly because (obviously) something was wrong among the pack.
Mom and John slept. We didn't. Two out of four ain't bad.
Pretty much at the same time as they arrived, the temperature rose to 105 degrees (yes, that's a record, even for Georgia) and has stayed there every day since. This was almost tolerable while we were in the house or in their car; however, once John left for Atlanta and took his car, we had to run errands in mine, which has a broken A/C unit. I don't know when I've sweated so much.
We lost a young hen to the heat. She was a favorite of mine, unfortunately. Also, blister beetles came and ate an entire row of chard in one day. Apparently they like 100-plus weather just fine.
We canceled the Wednesday farmers' market because nobody wanted to sit outdoors from 4 to 7 p.m. It would have been dangerous, frankly.
On Thursday afternoon the upstairs air conditioner in our house broke. The upstairs is the guest room, so Mom was the one to discover it. ("It's 96 degrees up there!") We shuffled accommodations for the night. I took the floor. The repair guy came on Friday afternoon and informed us that ants had gotten into our heat pump and shorted it out by scorching themselves to death on the wire contacts. A cheap fix, thank goodness.
Friday I drove Mom to Atlanta to reunite her with John at my stepsister's house. The s.o. had the bright idea that I should make the drive in my bikini top. It was absolute genius--I was able to wear a dry, unsticky shirt to dinner because of his quick thinking. Only a couple of truckers honked at me along the way.
We had a great Indian meal here, which made up for a lot of the ickiness.
After the horror of this heat wave, I think our family will still get up the courage to come to visit us. But maybe not in summer!
Showing posts with label fun with friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun with friends. Show all posts
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Thursday, July 05, 2007
This is how we get overcommitted
Whew! Long time no post, I know. I've just been very busy. First we had a delightful visit from Ms. Jenny, AKA Stew (about which, more later). But right after she left, a friend dropped by to give us a gift: a box of tiny, peeping, chipmunky Coturnix quail chicks. We have so far been unable to count them, but there seem to be at least 20.
I've put off posting about them until I was fairly certain (from web searches, etc.) that we don't need a breeder license to have them. And it appears we don't--that's just native Bobwhite quail, and it's just if you're going to sell live birds. So all is revealed.
Do you know how difficult it is to photograph a constantly-moving animal the size of a shrew? Blursville. Oh, well.
We hadn't planned on getting quail--I mean, we have enough to deal with!--but that's sort of how things work in the country. People have animals, the animals change owners, people take up unexpected hobbies. These do seem relatively low-maintenance, at least: They are kept in rabbit-hutch-type accommodations, and they start laying one egg per hen per day at age 6 weeks. The males are ready to eat at about the same time.
I picture myself from now on cooking like Bobby Flay on Iron Chef: Tiny fried quail eggs on top of nearly everything I put on the table.
In other bird-related news, we took down the partition between the ducks and geese, and they have not bothered each other in the least. Victory! One pen is much more convenient than two when it comes to feeding, watering, etc. Maybe that sort of makes up for the unexpected foray into quail.
So, Jenny. She came on Sunday and we had a really fun pool party over at L2's house. For a while it looked as though we wouldn't be doing any outdoor activities; lightning struck on our property when we were getting in the car. Despite seeing the bolt spark off our power lines, the s.o. heroically managed not to drop the fruit salad he was carrying. Then the skies opened and it rained buckets for about 20 minutes. Then the sun came out again. After a nervous peek at weather.com, we commenced swimming and hot-tubbing.
On Monday we lazed around a lot and then went to our favorite fishing spot. I caught the world's smallest largemouth bass (catching minuscule fish is a special talent of mine) and Jenny got in some quality birdwatching. We saw an indigo bunting, a belted kingfisher, a common yellowthroat, and a prothonotary warbler. The birds there really are spectacular! (Jenny, don't be jealous, but the next night we went back again and I accidentally flushed out a pair of great blue herons at very close range!
And lest I forget to mention it, on Monday afternoon we had an all-local Greek-themed meal, which I respectfully submit for this week's One Local Summer entry:
GREEK CORNMEAL AND GREENS PIE:
Milk - Starr, S.C. (73 miles)
Cornmeal - Athens, Ga. (35 miles)
Feta cheese - Athens, Ga. (35 miles)
Lamb's quarters - Royston, Ga. (55 miles)
Mint, dill, sorrel, chard - our own
Olive oil - exempt
LAMB RIB ROAST:
Lamb - I am having an awful time remembering what town our lamb source is in, and I can't find their business card; let's just say it's no more than 150 miles away and is somewhere in middle Georgia.
Oregano - our own
Olive oil and lemon - exempt
And now, speaking of food, I have to go feed the dogs...
I've put off posting about them until I was fairly certain (from web searches, etc.) that we don't need a breeder license to have them. And it appears we don't--that's just native Bobwhite quail, and it's just if you're going to sell live birds. So all is revealed.
Do you know how difficult it is to photograph a constantly-moving animal the size of a shrew? Blursville. Oh, well.
We hadn't planned on getting quail--I mean, we have enough to deal with!--but that's sort of how things work in the country. People have animals, the animals change owners, people take up unexpected hobbies. These do seem relatively low-maintenance, at least: They are kept in rabbit-hutch-type accommodations, and they start laying one egg per hen per day at age 6 weeks. The males are ready to eat at about the same time.
I picture myself from now on cooking like Bobby Flay on Iron Chef: Tiny fried quail eggs on top of nearly everything I put on the table.
In other bird-related news, we took down the partition between the ducks and geese, and they have not bothered each other in the least. Victory! One pen is much more convenient than two when it comes to feeding, watering, etc. Maybe that sort of makes up for the unexpected foray into quail.
So, Jenny. She came on Sunday and we had a really fun pool party over at L2's house. For a while it looked as though we wouldn't be doing any outdoor activities; lightning struck on our property when we were getting in the car. Despite seeing the bolt spark off our power lines, the s.o. heroically managed not to drop the fruit salad he was carrying. Then the skies opened and it rained buckets for about 20 minutes. Then the sun came out again. After a nervous peek at weather.com, we commenced swimming and hot-tubbing.
On Monday we lazed around a lot and then went to our favorite fishing spot. I caught the world's smallest largemouth bass (catching minuscule fish is a special talent of mine) and Jenny got in some quality birdwatching. We saw an indigo bunting, a belted kingfisher, a common yellowthroat, and a prothonotary warbler. The birds there really are spectacular! (Jenny, don't be jealous, but the next night we went back again and I accidentally flushed out a pair of great blue herons at very close range!
And lest I forget to mention it, on Monday afternoon we had an all-local Greek-themed meal, which I respectfully submit for this week's One Local Summer entry:
GREEK CORNMEAL AND GREENS PIE:
Milk - Starr, S.C. (73 miles)
Cornmeal - Athens, Ga. (35 miles)
Feta cheese - Athens, Ga. (35 miles)
Lamb's quarters - Royston, Ga. (55 miles)
Mint, dill, sorrel, chard - our own
Olive oil - exempt
LAMB RIB ROAST:
Lamb - I am having an awful time remembering what town our lamb source is in, and I can't find their business card; let's just say it's no more than 150 miles away and is somewhere in middle Georgia.
Oregano - our own
Olive oil and lemon - exempt
And now, speaking of food, I have to go feed the dogs...
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Flying the, er, friendly skies
From Thursday to Sunday of this week, I'm traveling to St. Louis to attend a music festival that, over the course of a decade or so, has become quite dear to my heart. I'll see a lot of my best friends from far-flung locales. And in a gorgeous harmonic convergence, some of my other best friends from Athens are attending this year for the first time. Can you feel the love?
Instead of driving, which would be excruciatingly expensive at current gas prices, I'm flying. That means putting a lid on my usual Stevie Nicks-like luggage tendencies (i.e., lots of costume changes) and, even worse, coping with draconian air travel regulations. So I've been scouring the drugstores, looking for travel-sized containers for my toiletries.
I find it interesting that, while the regs specify that your shampoo, etc., must not be in a container larger than 3 ounces, the vast majority of travel bottles on the market are... wait for it... 4 ounces.
Who did this?! They deserve to be bitchslapped.
Well, never mind. I still feel the love.
----------
Briefly noted:
My mother took me at my word when I said that everyone ought to have geese. In my honor, she purchased a Flock of Hope from Heifer International. Someone out there will have birds of their very own--and a leg up in this uncertain world--because of her generosity.
Heifer is one of my very favorite charities. I'd love it if this post inspired a few of my readers to give the gift of sustainability. Give a goat! Choose a chicken! Transfer a tree!
Instead of driving, which would be excruciatingly expensive at current gas prices, I'm flying. That means putting a lid on my usual Stevie Nicks-like luggage tendencies (i.e., lots of costume changes) and, even worse, coping with draconian air travel regulations. So I've been scouring the drugstores, looking for travel-sized containers for my toiletries.
I find it interesting that, while the regs specify that your shampoo, etc., must not be in a container larger than 3 ounces, the vast majority of travel bottles on the market are... wait for it... 4 ounces.
Who did this?! They deserve to be bitchslapped.
Well, never mind. I still feel the love.
----------
Briefly noted:
My mother took me at my word when I said that everyone ought to have geese. In my honor, she purchased a Flock of Hope from Heifer International. Someone out there will have birds of their very own--and a leg up in this uncertain world--because of her generosity.
Heifer is one of my very favorite charities. I'd love it if this post inspired a few of my readers to give the gift of sustainability. Give a goat! Choose a chicken! Transfer a tree!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
A hairy tale
I've promised Kitchen Witch, who recently wrote about her run-in with some Canadian bears, that I will tell the story of "the time I punched a baboon." Everyone should have a story like that, don't you think?
It happened in 2002. I went on a trip to South Africa with my mom and stepdad. We had a lovely tour guide named Colin who said things like "jolly good" all the time. (The older generation of English-heritage South Africans have a vocabulary that is sort of hilariously Jeeves and Wooster-like, because they were essentially walled off from global pop culture during much of the 20th century, due to apartheid. This leads to phrases such as "ring the doorbell" being translated as "touch the goodie." I would love to see a thorough linguistic examination of the phenomenon. But I digress.)
We had a lot of amazing experiences, including walking through the Cape Malay district of Capetown, visiting the botanical gardens at the base of Table Mountain, touring the Stellenbosch and Paarl wine country, and checking out a lot of really pretty beaches and seaside towns.
Near the end of the week we took a day trip to Cape Point, which is part of the national parks system. It's a breathtakingly beautiful place where we were able to see some very large elands and other wildlife.
If you followed the link in the previous paragraph, you may have read this:
"At the car park there’s a reputable restaurant with great big windows which take in the awesome views and dizzying drop below. Here one can retreat from the wind and have a bite to eat with no danger of baboons snatching your scoff."
That pair of sentences is one of the best I've ever seen written about South Africa. It is awesomely prophetic, because the park is awash in hairy, fanged primates.
On the way to the park's main gate, we had to stop several times to wait for baboons to scuttle across the road. At the gate, we were handed a pamphlet that offered helpful advice such as "Keep your car doors shut when you get out to take photographs. Once a baboon gets into your vehicle, it is very difficult to get it back out again." There were entire baboon families perched atop many of the vehicles in the parking lot. And the restaurant had installed barbed-wire fencing along the edge of its roof, because apparently in the past there had been a problem with baboons waiting up there, then jumping down on hapless patrons who were leaving with takeaway lunches.
After a hike to the lighthouse, we were hungry, so we decided to have a meal at the restaurant. We sat down at a white-tableclothed, Evian-umbrella'd table on the outdoor balcony. We were perched directly on the stony cliffs that led down to the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. An immaculately dressed waiter brought us a basket of bread rolls. Then he reached into his apron and handed me a generous double handful of smooth rocks.
"Keep the bread rolls covered," he said. "And if the baboons come for them, throw these rocks."
I stared blankly. I had a sense, at that moment, that no odder sentence would be spoken to me for years to come.
But seeing no apparent danger, I ordered a sparkling water and a springbok carpaccio, and we fell into lively conversation.
Jabbering about something or other, I distractedly opened the cloth napkin that enclosed the bread rolls and began to pull out a roll. It was at that moment that I saw, over my mother's shoulder, a dark shape bounding over the balcony wall. A 40-pound baboon arced through the air and, with a thump, landed on the table in front of me.
My first thought was of the little pile of rocks next to my plate, but the baboon's face was at most two feet from mine, so throwing something wasn't really the way to go. I panicked. Instinct took over, and I reached out and punched the baboon in the chest.
Startled, the baboon sprang, frog-like, over my shoulder and narrowly missed landing on the next table. The family at the table screamed and scattered. The baboon disappeared over the low stone wall.
"Good heavens," said Colin. My mother and I stared at each other incredulously.
Then the food arrived. It's really a very good restaurant.
It happened in 2002. I went on a trip to South Africa with my mom and stepdad. We had a lovely tour guide named Colin who said things like "jolly good" all the time. (The older generation of English-heritage South Africans have a vocabulary that is sort of hilariously Jeeves and Wooster-like, because they were essentially walled off from global pop culture during much of the 20th century, due to apartheid. This leads to phrases such as "ring the doorbell" being translated as "touch the goodie." I would love to see a thorough linguistic examination of the phenomenon. But I digress.)
We had a lot of amazing experiences, including walking through the Cape Malay district of Capetown, visiting the botanical gardens at the base of Table Mountain, touring the Stellenbosch and Paarl wine country, and checking out a lot of really pretty beaches and seaside towns.
Near the end of the week we took a day trip to Cape Point, which is part of the national parks system. It's a breathtakingly beautiful place where we were able to see some very large elands and other wildlife.
If you followed the link in the previous paragraph, you may have read this:
"At the car park there’s a reputable restaurant with great big windows which take in the awesome views and dizzying drop below. Here one can retreat from the wind and have a bite to eat with no danger of baboons snatching your scoff."
That pair of sentences is one of the best I've ever seen written about South Africa. It is awesomely prophetic, because the park is awash in hairy, fanged primates.
On the way to the park's main gate, we had to stop several times to wait for baboons to scuttle across the road. At the gate, we were handed a pamphlet that offered helpful advice such as "Keep your car doors shut when you get out to take photographs. Once a baboon gets into your vehicle, it is very difficult to get it back out again." There were entire baboon families perched atop many of the vehicles in the parking lot. And the restaurant had installed barbed-wire fencing along the edge of its roof, because apparently in the past there had been a problem with baboons waiting up there, then jumping down on hapless patrons who were leaving with takeaway lunches.
After a hike to the lighthouse, we were hungry, so we decided to have a meal at the restaurant. We sat down at a white-tableclothed, Evian-umbrella'd table on the outdoor balcony. We were perched directly on the stony cliffs that led down to the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. An immaculately dressed waiter brought us a basket of bread rolls. Then he reached into his apron and handed me a generous double handful of smooth rocks.
"Keep the bread rolls covered," he said. "And if the baboons come for them, throw these rocks."
I stared blankly. I had a sense, at that moment, that no odder sentence would be spoken to me for years to come.
But seeing no apparent danger, I ordered a sparkling water and a springbok carpaccio, and we fell into lively conversation.
Jabbering about something or other, I distractedly opened the cloth napkin that enclosed the bread rolls and began to pull out a roll. It was at that moment that I saw, over my mother's shoulder, a dark shape bounding over the balcony wall. A 40-pound baboon arced through the air and, with a thump, landed on the table in front of me.
My first thought was of the little pile of rocks next to my plate, but the baboon's face was at most two feet from mine, so throwing something wasn't really the way to go. I panicked. Instinct took over, and I reached out and punched the baboon in the chest.
Startled, the baboon sprang, frog-like, over my shoulder and narrowly missed landing on the next table. The family at the table screamed and scattered. The baboon disappeared over the low stone wall.
"Good heavens," said Colin. My mother and I stared at each other incredulously.
Then the food arrived. It's really a very good restaurant.
Monday, April 23, 2007
PELC on the road!
My dog pal Silver and I are at Stew's place in North Carolina, and the humans among us have embarked on our first day of the Penny-Wise Eat Local Challenge. We've also been on several local farm tours this weekend (this was my favorite), and we've been planting seedlings in Stew's garden. What a blast!
I'll be home tomorrow, and your regular 10 Signs programming will resume...
I'll be home tomorrow, and your regular 10 Signs programming will resume...
Sunday, March 25, 2007
A weekend in pictures
The weather has turned absolutely gorgeous--a little hot, even. It's like the Mediterranean. I am basking in it, even though somewhere inside the logical part of my brain, I know it needs to rain a LOT more than it has been.
Friday was L2's birthday, so while I was in the kitchen knocking out pies and cookies for the farmers' market, I made her this:
It's a plain spongecake roll (from the recipe in Fanny Farmer) filled with a mixture of whipped cream and Meyer lemon curd. I gather from the phone calls we got later that it tasted good!
Saturday morning was all about fun and friends and springiness. While I was at the opening day of the Oconee Farmers' Market, the s.o. went fishing with his friend B and B's son. The white bass are spawning, and apparently male fish are like all of us: when they are occupied by matters of the heart and loins, they lose their mental edge. There are now 18 fish in our fridge!
So we are going to B's house this evening to grill some fish. Excellent.
We then attended the Saturday night auction. Most of the recent auctions haven't proven very interesting, but last night was back on form. I got an honest-to-gosh Bedazzler (careful clicking that link; annoying celebrity testimonials will ensue) for $4 and a Bundt-shaped unglazed earthenware oven dish for $3 (any ideas what I should do with it, fellow foodies? my first thought is an Italian cheese bread ring). The s.o. got a couple of items, too. And unrelated to the actual auctioning that was going on, I bought this:
Stew, J, and my mom will recognize this as one of the many pieces of inexplicable folk art that decorates the walls of the auction hall. We've loved this one for months; it certainly poses an interesting question, but it is a question that I cannot for the life of me imagine anyone around here posing. So while I was talking to the cashier last night, I finally asked how much it was. The answer, my friends, was $5.75. How could I say no to that?
Friday was L2's birthday, so while I was in the kitchen knocking out pies and cookies for the farmers' market, I made her this:
It's a plain spongecake roll (from the recipe in Fanny Farmer) filled with a mixture of whipped cream and Meyer lemon curd. I gather from the phone calls we got later that it tasted good!
Saturday morning was all about fun and friends and springiness. While I was at the opening day of the Oconee Farmers' Market, the s.o. went fishing with his friend B and B's son. The white bass are spawning, and apparently male fish are like all of us: when they are occupied by matters of the heart and loins, they lose their mental edge. There are now 18 fish in our fridge!
So we are going to B's house this evening to grill some fish. Excellent.
We then attended the Saturday night auction. Most of the recent auctions haven't proven very interesting, but last night was back on form. I got an honest-to-gosh Bedazzler (careful clicking that link; annoying celebrity testimonials will ensue) for $4 and a Bundt-shaped unglazed earthenware oven dish for $3 (any ideas what I should do with it, fellow foodies? my first thought is an Italian cheese bread ring). The s.o. got a couple of items, too. And unrelated to the actual auctioning that was going on, I bought this:
Stew, J, and my mom will recognize this as one of the many pieces of inexplicable folk art that decorates the walls of the auction hall. We've loved this one for months; it certainly poses an interesting question, but it is a question that I cannot for the life of me imagine anyone around here posing. So while I was talking to the cashier last night, I finally asked how much it was. The answer, my friends, was $5.75. How could I say no to that?
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Happy New Year!
How can it already be the 3rd?!
The s.o. and I had a really nice, quiet New Year's Eve, just the two of us, watching the ball drop on TV. We discussed our plans for the coming year and drank cava. And then on the 1st, we threw a little shindig for our friends, with Bloody Marys and blackeyed peas and greens and two roasts--ham and lamb.
It was really a great way to kick off what, by all appearances, is going to be a pretty good year. (I'm trying not to go into global warming, etc., here--so just indulge my optimism for a moment.)
Last year my New Year's resolutions were as follows:
1. Learn to knit really. Like, more than just scarves. I may ask some of you for help. You know who you are.
2. Get to know more about Atlanta, which, despite its proximity (1:20) is mostly a big black box to me. (It's not really the greatest city. Overall, it's extremely "eh." But the DeKalb Farmer's Market has improved our lives so much; surely it can't be the only thing. Stepsister just informed me that there is an Australian bakery I didn't know about. We will maybe meet there for tea sometime. It's a good start.)
Well, I had Liz's help getting started with #1 (thanks again, friend!), and then I took several classes at the local knitting store. I really turned a corner. I made all kinds of projects that I'm proud of. I'm gearing up to make my first grownup-sized sweater. I feel as though I've done really well!
I sort of followed through on #2, too, although not on purpose. I was in Atlanta for business several times, so I learned a little more about a couple of different neighborhoods. I found new eateries to go to, and I joined Costco. I still haven't been to that Australian bakery, though--d'oh!
So what are my resolutions for 2007?
1. Keep myself and the house a teensy bit more presentable (i.e., not covered in dog hair, straw, dust, grease, mud, etc.) so that I won't be mortified when friends drop by. Because the s.o. and I actually made some friends in our town in 2006, and they have started to, you know, drop by. It's a very happy turn of events.
2. Wear sunscreen. (I'm doing pretty well at this, but I want to shoot for 100 percent.)
Easy, right? Well, you'd think so. But then again, I still have this to contend with:
*sigh*
The s.o. and I had a really nice, quiet New Year's Eve, just the two of us, watching the ball drop on TV. We discussed our plans for the coming year and drank cava. And then on the 1st, we threw a little shindig for our friends, with Bloody Marys and blackeyed peas and greens and two roasts--ham and lamb.
It was really a great way to kick off what, by all appearances, is going to be a pretty good year. (I'm trying not to go into global warming, etc., here--so just indulge my optimism for a moment.)
Last year my New Year's resolutions were as follows:
1. Learn to knit really. Like, more than just scarves. I may ask some of you for help. You know who you are.
2. Get to know more about Atlanta, which, despite its proximity (1:20) is mostly a big black box to me. (It's not really the greatest city. Overall, it's extremely "eh." But the DeKalb Farmer's Market has improved our lives so much; surely it can't be the only thing. Stepsister just informed me that there is an Australian bakery I didn't know about. We will maybe meet there for tea sometime. It's a good start.)
Well, I had Liz's help getting started with #1 (thanks again, friend!), and then I took several classes at the local knitting store. I really turned a corner. I made all kinds of projects that I'm proud of. I'm gearing up to make my first grownup-sized sweater. I feel as though I've done really well!
I sort of followed through on #2, too, although not on purpose. I was in Atlanta for business several times, so I learned a little more about a couple of different neighborhoods. I found new eateries to go to, and I joined Costco. I still haven't been to that Australian bakery, though--d'oh!
So what are my resolutions for 2007?
1. Keep myself and the house a teensy bit more presentable (i.e., not covered in dog hair, straw, dust, grease, mud, etc.) so that I won't be mortified when friends drop by. Because the s.o. and I actually made some friends in our town in 2006, and they have started to, you know, drop by. It's a very happy turn of events.
2. Wear sunscreen. (I'm doing pretty well at this, but I want to shoot for 100 percent.)
Easy, right? Well, you'd think so. But then again, I still have this to contend with:
*sigh*
Friday, December 29, 2006
Rooster exchange accomplished
I met Maggie! She's awesome. And, although I don't know why I would have pictured her at any particular height, taller than I had expected.
We met at a nice little brewpub in Greenville, South Carolina--approximately halfway between our houses--to exchange roosters. She wanted a Speckled Sussex rooster, and I happened to have one extra. Meanwhile, she had a rooster that kept attacking her daughter. So we swapped. Here's mine, avoiding me:
I wish all of you could have seen the actual grabbing and exchanging of chickens in the parking deck. Yes, both of them tried to make a run/flap for it, but we were too quick for them. It was a moment for the ages.
I've met enough "internet people" that you'd think I would no longer be surprised by how cool they often turn out to be. But when you're brought together by common interests--and when you've already read the Cliff's Notes on their daily lives--it's just so easy. I highly recommend getting out there and meeting your bloggy pals!
We met at a nice little brewpub in Greenville, South Carolina--approximately halfway between our houses--to exchange roosters. She wanted a Speckled Sussex rooster, and I happened to have one extra. Meanwhile, she had a rooster that kept attacking her daughter. So we swapped. Here's mine, avoiding me:
I wish all of you could have seen the actual grabbing and exchanging of chickens in the parking deck. Yes, both of them tried to make a run/flap for it, but we were too quick for them. It was a moment for the ages.
I've met enough "internet people" that you'd think I would no longer be surprised by how cool they often turn out to be. But when you're brought together by common interests--and when you've already read the Cliff's Notes on their daily lives--it's just so easy. I highly recommend getting out there and meeting your bloggy pals!
Sunday, December 10, 2006
We love Jenny
Jenny has been here this weekend. We've been having a wonderful time, and she was a real trooper about the whole lamb carcass that was delivered on Saturday morning. We roasted a rack of lamb and OMG it was delicious.
I think she has gotten me addicted to birdwatching. I had wrongly assumed that the human race had done so much environmental damage that the only birds left would be starlings, turkey vultures, etc. I can't believe how wrong I was.* Phoebes, warblers, kinglets, thrushes, the list goes on. I watched a chipping sparrow for a while and was incredibly charmed by its cheerful manner. Birdwatching seems like a really cool and meditative activity that appeals to my inner science geek.
We just saw Casino Royale with J and her husband. What a fabulous movie--it far exceeded even my inflated expectations. And Daniel Craig? Rrrrraaaoooww. The theater was awash in Girl Drool.
----------
* I mean, yes, we have destroyed the planet and caused a lot of extinctions, but nevertheless there are still a lot of really neat birds around here.
I think she has gotten me addicted to birdwatching. I had wrongly assumed that the human race had done so much environmental damage that the only birds left would be starlings, turkey vultures, etc. I can't believe how wrong I was.* Phoebes, warblers, kinglets, thrushes, the list goes on. I watched a chipping sparrow for a while and was incredibly charmed by its cheerful manner. Birdwatching seems like a really cool and meditative activity that appeals to my inner science geek.
We just saw Casino Royale with J and her husband. What a fabulous movie--it far exceeded even my inflated expectations. And Daniel Craig? Rrrrraaaoooww. The theater was awash in Girl Drool.
----------
* I mean, yes, we have destroyed the planet and caused a lot of extinctions, but nevertheless there are still a lot of really neat birds around here.
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