Harvesting the Heart

Jodi Picoult wrote Harvesting the Heart in 1993.  This is one of her earlier books. The story explores the life of Paige, a young woman artist from Chicago.  She is abandoned by her mother at the age of 5.  She moves away from her father to the east coast where she is almost immediately swept off her feet by a medical student named Nicholas.  They marry and after five years have a child.  She put her schooling and interest in art aside to support him in his quest to be a cardiac surgeon.  Neither is ready to be a good parent.  Her husband can escape the tribulations of a newborn by going to work.  She can't.  Nicholas is not understanding or forgiving.  The book is good except the ending blows.  I think authors ought to decide what happens and provide us with resolution. I don't like to be left hanging. 

Freaking Squirrels!

Squirrels. I spend more time and energy trying to foil the squirrels but I never succeed for long.  I received a gift of a bird feeder designed for peanuts and a bag of peanuts..  I strung it on the line with squirrel deterrents such as pvc pipe and empty soda bottles.  The dang squirrels knocked it down and ate all the peanuts in a single day.  I took the feeder out of the snow, refilled it, and hung it on a hook on my deck.  The wire mesh that constitutes the sides is too small for squirrels to get their pesky fingers into it.  So what did the squirrels do?  They took the feeder apart.  They actually took one vertical wire completely off thus doubling the space to get the peanuts out.  I was told this when I got home from work.  I looked and saw a fat and sassy squirrel sitting on the snow bank on the deck munching on peanuts with his back to the deck door.  My blood boiled. My brand new bird feeder was destroyed.  I took up my super soaker, pumped it once, opened the deck door and yelled “You Die!” while soaking him.  I forgot I wasn’t home alone.  Both offspring were there.  You really got to think about how you come across sometimes.  For an offspring who has been to Iraq and back, this was a funny, “you tube” worthy performance.

Sad News About Phyllis, the Chicken

Phyllis the chicken (see her on the far right) died today in her coop in Ramsey.  She was hatched April 1, 2009 in Iowa.  Phyllis died December 29, 2010 at the age of 1 year and 8 months.  Cause of death is unknown.  She is preceeded in death by her two brothers, Dwight and Angela (Angelo).  She is survived by three sisters, Kelly, Pamela, and Meredith.  Phyllis survived a vicious dog attack by a min-pin with attitude in the fall of 2009.  She was missing her left outer talon.   Services have been held.

Project Feeder Watch

American Crow-4, Black capped chickadee-5, White breasted nuthatch-4, Red bellied woodpecker-1, Downy Woodpecker - 2. I usually count some juncos and they are around, they just weren't around during the time I was watching this weekend.

British TV Commercial Awards

On Monday, Offspring #2 and I went to the British TV Commercial Awards with some friends.  I've gone every year for 4 or 5 years now.  The best commercials are shown.  This year I thought the selection was not as good as previous years.  The topics were darker.  One of the most disturbing commercials involved bodies falling from the sky in a downtown area.  At first you couldn't really tell what the bodies were but it reminded me of scenes from the destruction of the Twin Towers. Eventually you can see the bodies are polar bears dropping onto vehicles and onto the pavement.  The message at the ends indicates that every time you take a plane ride your flight introduces greenhouses gases into the air equivalent to one polar bear.  Well, how disturbing is that?  Next month I will be taking six plane rides (three to get there and three to get back). The video above shows the number one winner.  Now I want to be a part of a flash mob.  I heard there is a flash mob in Minneapolis that rides the light rail in January without pants.  Ok, I could maybe try wearing boxers on the light rail in July but I cannot ride without pants in January - it's downright dangerous.  I want a fully clothed flash mob experience.  Another good commercial involved sheep wearing LED lighted blankets, herd dogs, and a large field on a hillside.  They got the sheep to move on the dark hillside to look like an Atari game.  One group of sheep formed the round ball while two lines of sheep seemed to make the ball bounce back and forth.  I don't remember what they were advertising with the sheep but it was entertaining.  Some commercials were too long.  I think one was 3 minutes long.  I watched one that old the story of a young teen who loved music and wore make up and dressed androgynously. He tried college but dropped out.  He lost job after job because of his attitude.  He loved guitar hero.  He lived with his parents and his Mom cheered him on when he played guitar hero.  I thought the commercial was about guitar hero. The last scene shows him loosing another job and jumping off a ladder into a bin of Doritoes.  That is when we learn the commercial is for Doritoes.  He never even eats Doritoes or shows any interest in Doritoes.  Maybe you have to be British to get some of these commercials.

Season of Belief

This holiday season I once again believed in the magic of Santa Claus.  Somewhere in my parent's house is a record.  For those of you who don't know, a record is a black vinyl disc with a small hole in the center. As it rotates on a turntable, a needle picks up the patterns in the grooves and converts it into sound.  This particular record was made at Dayton's Department Store in St. Paul.  When kids visited Santa at Daytons  in the early 1950's, they were given a record of the conversation they had with the jolly old elf.  On this record, Santa asks my older sibling what she wanted for Christmas. She answers, "I want something for Susie and Tilly."   Awwwwww!  Isn't that sweet?  And generous?  Doesn't that answer embody the magic of Christmas?  I've never been that kind hearted.  Susie is me.  Don't ever call me that though.  Only my older sibling can call me that.  And Tilly was our dog, a weimaraner with a short, sausage like tail, large ears and the patience of a saint.  I'm glad to get top billing over the dog.

May All Jollity Lighten Your Christmas Hours