I was planning on cutting this hydrangea back all fall, as it's gotten so big and top heavy, but then I got sick and then it got cold out and then I saw this fella and remembered our hydrangea bush is a favorite perch for cardinals every winter. It's tucked into an outer niche of our house, which means it's somewhat sheltered from the wind, but also means I can look out the above window in the living room and watch the cardinals, or...
... I can go into the front room and spy on them from a different angle. It seems to stress them out when I go back and forth too much, though, so after snapping a couple pictures I left him alone. The only thing that would have made this better is to have had a female cardinal in there, too, as I prefer their muted coloring and besides, female solidarity and all that.
Last night Derek's mom very kindly drove down to watch our kiddos for the evening so Derek could take me out for my birthday. I wanted to eat at a restaurant that has these amazing(ly unhealthy) waffle fry nachos topped with pulled pork and other glorious fixin's, and while yes, those nachos were incredible, our joy was somewhat muted by the fact that we were freezing the entire time we were there. See, this local chain of restaurants builds decks onto their buildings, then for some exasperating, flummoxing reason encloses the top with a glorified tarp and continues to seat diners there all year. There are heaters suspended from the ceiling, but as Derek put it, we were eating on a three-season porch during the fourth season.
Why, yes, we did wear our coats, scarves, and hats throughout the meal, thank you so much for asking! I took my gloves off because I found manipulating my silverware with them on to be a bit unwieldy. I was so mad I hadn't worn my long underwear under my jeans, as the draft coming in under the table around my legs was brutal.
This wasn't mere overflow seating, either; we saw numerous open tables as we were led through the (deliciously warm and cozy) dining area to the winter porch.
Jethro's, your food is good, but it is December in Iowa. Please stop with the deck seating.
Let's see, I have talked about one of my favorite birds, my hydrangeas, and complained about a recent visit to a restaurant. Although I have tiptoed around it many times before, it would seem that 34 is when I begin my official foray into cranky old-ladyhood. I am comfortable here.
My next request for our birthday date was to visit the local antique mall (hang on while I search for the expedited application to AARP). Which we did. And it was, as usual, glorious.
Derek and I will be celebrating 13 years of marriage next summer, and while I know ten years is Tin and 15 is Crystal, I have a feeling 13 might just be Basket of Heads. If I'm right, I know exactly where to look! Thanks, Brass Armadillo!
Really, though, the only thing I came close to purchasing was found in this stall.
|Do you see what I see?|
The good angel was saying, "Do you really need a muskrat foot key chain? What about the starving children in China?" but the bad angel was like, "It's your birthday: Treat Yo Self!"
In the end, I did not bring the muskrat foot key chain home, as it's hard to buy something you're afraid to touch. But gosh, did my grinchy heart grow three sizes that day.