I don't know why I haven't written much lately. Eating and drinking take a lot of my time and I haven't figured out how to do two things at one time. I think I write better when I'm bitchy about something; it's no fun to write about silver saddles and Sunday parades. And I always felt like a glass of wine loosened my tongue. That little habit is over for a while and my liver thanks me.
The patio should be done my tomorrow. It's really beautiful and Karl can consider himself an artist. He's coming tomorrow to fill in with dirt around the edges and to sweep in the last of the sand. If the weather is nice this weekend, we should be able to break it out in style. Regis can smoke the Sadam Hussein cigar and I'll have a bottle of Perrier to toast the Howard Fritsch Memorial Patio.
The crab apple tree is starting to bloom and so is the fern leaf peony. Regis will take pictures tomorrow, I'm sure. He keeps asking me when I'm going to get in the garden and take care of the weeds and moving perennials. Any day now, I say.
Peter is finishing his semester at school and he's relieved to be done for a while. He's done well and we're proud of him but we did give him some crap tonight while we were watching Seinfeld. George is 30 and lives at home. You can see where this is going.
A grackle picked up one of the strings that Karl used to keep the walk straight. It was wrapped around a piece of cardboard but the bird managed to get it into the tree, wrap it around a limb twice, and weave it into the nest. Grackles make a real mess of a nest but this bird got a little pissy when they took the string back and it left. I'm not too sorry because they poop like crazy when they have small birds. That's today's nature lesson.