Last June, as a joke, I bought this little bluebird sitting on his solar-powered perch. He hung at our front door at the house until one day we both left the house in a bad mood and as we passed the motion detector in the little birdie's chest spotted us and went into his songs. Yes, theRe are two!
We both said, at the same time: "Shut Up!" A sure sign that the blue bird of happiness at the house had worn out his welcome so I moved him to winter quarters here at the bungalow.
Of course with the shorter days of winter beginning, Mr. Bird is not getting enough sunshine (who is???) to function properly. So I hanged him from my work light and now whenever I come into the office and turn on the light, he sings his songs. Both of them. ( His little bill works, too.)
In addition to fake bird therapy, I am teaching myself not to deal with things that can I do nothing about. So I have buried myself in the shallow trench that is the National Football League.
Circus for the masses.
Still can't make up my mind if I am preparing a massive Thanksgiving dinner for just the two of us. Sister-in-law will be here over the week end and I shall stuff her with leftovers. Dinner out -- it's just not right!
I always have a rough time with winter's short days and so little sunshine. But as long as I have a couple cords of stove wood, this little joint ain't a bad place to hang. That and my bird and music!
More and more, I realize that a hot stove and good music on the box goes a long way to curing what ails me.
Happy Thanksgiving! (early)
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