No Hummers This Year

I'm sad. Not because we aren't able to buy a big, ugly SUV this year...


I don't have any hummingbirds.


Last year, we had three or four in our neighborhood. One bird would come and sit in the ficus tree on our front porch, guarding the feeder that hung out there. Any other poor, hungry bird would immediately get chased off whenever its beak got too close. I would sit and watch for minutes on end. (Moms don't have hours to sit and stare.)


This year, perhaps due to the late frost or some other unknown (maybe Finley screaming at the first hummingbird that approached as we sat on the porch), my feeders have remained without patrons.

Brains

I am reading Bringing Up Boys by James Dobson. My sister-in-law gave it to me for my birthday. She said it has helped her understand her son better... I was hoping it would help me understand my husband a little better, and it has...

Dobson explains the physiological differences between boys and girls, and during the 6th or 7th week of the developement of the male fetus, there is a 'spiking' of the testosterone hormone which (this is the quote, no joke...) "actually damages the walnut-shaped brain..."

I was going to leave it at that, but I suppose that's not fair to my husband... Lately I had been wondering why he just doesn't get the connections between his words and/or actions, and the resulting hurt feelings, etc. by me or other members of the household. Well, I guess he has a good excuse: Due to his 'brain damage,' he just can't connect those dots. I know once in a while, the Holy Spirit steps in and helps him via 'revelation,' but I guess the job is mainly mine right now.

Solomon, John Wayne, Life...

As I was in the shower this morning, I had the notion that Solomon must have been my age when he wrote Ecclesiastes. When he was young and idealistic, he asked God for wisdom. Perhaps as his ideals were held up to the light of reality which wisdom can't ignore, he saw his ideals for what they were, and became a little cynical and depressed. Then he wrote Ecclesiastes.

I got a Louis L'Amour book from the library yesterday to enjoy some light reading. I've read a few in the past, and they give you the feeling of watching a good action movie. This time, however, my enjoyment was stifled by a new perspective of westerns.

Our cookout a few weeks ago was attended by one of Chris' friends and his wife and sister-in-law. The women are twin Native Americans that grew up on a reservation in Nebraska. Late in the evening, after most of the guests were gone, they sat smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and relating they oppression they experienced growing up. In their discourse, they described bleaching hair in attempts to pass as white. They described the relief they felt when they moved to Tennessee, where 'Indians' aren't the focus of racial prejudice. And they despise John Wayne.

Hate John Wayne? The great American hero who shot bad guys and protected the women and the homestead from those wild and crazy Indians? Oh.

On another tangent... I received an e-mail about a massive, 23-foot alligator that was caught in a Texas lake where there aren't supposed to be alligators. The end of the e-mail stated that it was a shame they killed it... That it would have been helpful in the Rio Grand. I can imagine the writer is also a republican who also is against stem-cell research and raves about the sanctity of human life. And I suppose if he or she happened to be born in a third world country, he or she would be content to sit and starve in a slum when the 'promise of a better life' was just a few hundred miles away.

The big picture is not black and white.

I should write my own modern-day Ecclesiastes.

Static

Birthday Purchases

Yesterday, while Chris took the day off and watch the kids, I got to spend some time out and about by myself. Since I got a gift certificate to Grimey's for my birthday, I went to spend it. Grimey's is located in an old house where the CD and LPs are pack in every nook and cranny they could find. It felt good just walking into the place. It's nice to be someplace so real after shopping on the ethereal web.


Not wanting to waste my purchase on something I wasn't sure would be a worthwhile purchase, I asked for some recommendations. Grimey (I think that's who I talked to...) asked what my last purchase was. I told him Brian Eno. Then when he spotted the bluegrass CD I was tentatively carrying around, he wasn't too sure what to tell me. (By the way, if you would have told me when I was 18 that I would live in Nashville and listen to bluegrass, I would have laughed in your face.)


I ended up with a stack of staff picks to listen through, and spent the next hour listening on a borrowed set of headphones. Television, a 70's punk band (an all-time classic, I was told), and Dungen, brand new from Scandinavia, were both things I would have bought in an instant when I was in my teens and 20s and childless. Amy Wineheart, whom I've heard on the radio, was also recommended, but too crass. And besides... I'd rather buy the Verve Remixed CDs, which I bet is where she got her gimmick from.


So I ended up with Uncle Earl and Wilco. The first song on the Uncle Earl CD sounded so... joyful. To catch a glimpse of them click here and here. The verdict is still out on Wilco, who I hear lots of folks rave about. It such a bad name for a band, but after listening to a few songs, I knew my kids at least wouldn't get into some funky mood when I played their music.

Not a Baker

Since I didn't do anything special for Chris on his birthday (which was Monday), yesterday, I thought I'd better bake him a cake. Especially since one of Finley's favorite stories is about a bear that comes to our house and bakes a cake for somebody's birthday.

Not being too fond of cake mixes these days and feeling ambitious, I found a recipe for German Chocolate cake. Sounded good. I whipped up some chocolate frosting and coconut filing, then dove into the cake making itself.

A couple years ago, I tried to do a layer cake for Chris, but it split open on top because I didn't cut the bottom layer to be flat... For Finley's 2nd birthday, I made an angel food cake. Her cake was pathetic as well. Droopy (I didn't let it cool long enough?) and a sick Pepto-pink color.

You'd think I'd learn. But after seeing the fabulous Veggie Tales cake I saw at a recent birthday party, I thought a simple layer cake would be... well... a piece of cake.

Everything went well until I tried to get the cakes out of the pans. Even though I had greased and floured as the recipe suggested, they stuck as if I had used Liquid Nails. No amount of coersion or threatening could get them out in one piece...

So Chris got a cake in a bowl... I threw a chunk of cake in, poured on some filling, threw in more cake, topped it with the frosting... Wa-La.

At least it tastes good.

What Does A Bear Say?