|Male American goldfinches, seen above, arrived at the feeders first. The paler females appeared yesterday.|
You try to come up with something to post every day!
The webpages I'm most loyal to are those that have new content every time I manage to get over to them; if I'm disappointed too many times, I tend to stop going back.
Here, it's my habit to post some sort of photo at least, and even if there's nothing much going on, just saying hello gets me started and then I can be surprised by what comes up, sometimes, if I just sit down here and give it a minute or two and post something — anything. It's really all about my own entertainment, to be honest, and my own love of letterwriting and journalling. My entries won't contain the solution to world peace or a learned treatise on philosophy or a witty satire on lifestyle or insider stock tips; I'm not even sharing all my bitchy life dramas (and I do have a few!) with you people. If a friendly how-dy-doo isn't good enough for you, dear reader ... you will be disappointed here.
Today I've got someone coming over in an hour or two and I'm still in my housecoat and pyjamas and haven't eaten breakfast. The house was cold so I didn't feel like making my habitual fruit smoothie; I cranked the furnace on instead and will wait till things toast up. The wind's being a bit mean and the sky's grey so there's no incentive to go outside yet, even though transplanting a dozen speedwells into the new flowerbed out front is next on my gardening agenda.
[Anyone local want well-established shasta daisies or daylilies? They are here for the diggin; I've no place to put them and they could end up ploughed under if no one takes them. Also there are three peonies that I've no new home for; all yours, just come over and get them. They aren't quick to recover from transplanting but they will eventually.]
And I want to put in five hours at work on the computer before doing something with ground beef for supper; something like meatloaf, which is one of my favourites. Can you go wrong with ground beef? Not usually. But blechh. I'm bored with cooking. And dishes. Would rather live on fruit smoothies.
Had a little mostly one-sided conversation with Emil, who apparently believes clowns should be nice people:
"I like The Simpsons.
There's a guy named Crusty the Clown. He's not very nice. He shouldn't even be a clown. He's mean.
Crusty the Clown always sounds like he has a sore throat when he talks. I don't like the way he talks. Maybe he does have a sore throat."
"So, what do you like about The Simpsons?"
"I like everybody except Crusty the Clown. He's mean.
Poppa likes The Simpsons too."