the birds

Sunday morning was gutter cleaning and bird blocking on The Hilltop. Ah, my youth spent on the roof of our duplex, once a year, cleaning the crap from the gutters; remembered. We borrowed an extension ladder from down the street because the big step ladder wasn’t even close enough to get the job done; it was on X’s list of things to accomplish before winter sets in. Honestly, about half of them needed cleaning and that was clear from our earthbound view during any given rainstorm this summer. The bird blocking was a matter of filling all the openings at the tops of our front porch pillars: sparrows had moved in and this seemed a better idea than getting X a shotgun which she felt firing multiple times into the nearby tree might do the trick. She has no love for the sparrows.

This all followed a Saturday that included my finish to the summer quarter at school and the annual Hilltop block party that raged through the evening. The party is always quite fun as the adults sit around eating and drinking while the eleventy-million block kids (led by the eldest present, G.) ravage the block with endless games that appear to involve no particular rules aside from screaming and running to-and-fro. This year’s focused almost exclusively on swords, shields, various helmets and breastplates. It’s funny to see G. as the biggest kid on the block since he’s always seemed quite a bit smaller than most kids – growing up will do that. It could also have to do with the volume of food he ate throughout the day. (He and his mother came to my final Garde Manger class to sample all the foods be prepared over the quarter and presented at the grand buffet.)

In breaking news, it seems likely that L. will be moving back here around / after the Holidays and be finishing her high school life (two-and-a-half years at that point) here in Northern Virginia. It’s a longer discussion than needs to be addressed here.

With my two-week school break we’ll be crashing Quiz Night at the pub over the next two Mondays (tonight included) but will the rust cause a slowing of my trivial mind?

There a loads of stories I’ve jotted down to pass along but they’ve all disappeared. I’ll give them a think.

Everything here is peachy.

t