The Good Life

This morning Husband and I sat on our back porch, way up in the trees. We have a tin roof, and it was coming one of those gentle rains that truly does pitter patter on the leaves.

This didn't bother the birds one bit, we could hear several different chatters, songs and calls. The Ruby-Throated Humming Bird drank hungrily from the feeder, then sat right at our faces and shook water off himself. 

The seed feeder had nut hatches, tufted titmouse(s? mice?) and Mrs. Indigo Bunting, who unlike her royal blue husband is two shades of plain old brown. 

There was some squabbling at the feeder, because no one wanted to share, but it was entertaining to us and the cats.

Bonnie, or Dog, had ferociously run off a squirrel earlier. The squirrel had managed to open the top of the feeder and dive in head first. Since the feeder is right close to the screen, he had quite a fright when an 84 pound bulldog came racing out of the house, growling and barking, every  hair turned the wrong way. What a dog!

Husband,birds, rain, pets, perfect temperature, pleasant conversation. Oh, and coffee.

On a beautiful Friday morning, on this Earth, who could ask for anything better?

A big thanks to the Creator for this gift.

Amen.

Something's Fishy

The other day, after we had enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee, I strolled into the kitchen to rinse my cup and put it in the dishwasher.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the measuring cup in the dish drainer.

I said, out loud,"Gross."

This particular measuring cup is very old. In fact, it is so worn that you can't read the measurements on it anymore. It was given to me by Mother right after I got married at age eighteen.

Although I'd received at least two of everything; especially stuff I'd never use, I did not get a measuring cup. So she gave me her old one. And this was forty-four years ago.

I have long since had a new measuring cup. Well, I guess it ain't new no more, but you can read the measurements on it.

At any rate, I knew in a flash, that instead of Husband using the "new" measuring cup, he'd strained himself and reached waaaay up on the top shelf over the stove and fetched the old one.

But just to make sure, I marched into the living room with the piece of evidence and asked.

He said, yeah, he'd used it and so what.

Here's what: The old cup, along with a measuring pitcher that Mother used to measure my formula in when I was a newborn (and you can't read the measurements on it anymore either, plus the spout is chipped off) are what I use to put water in on Friday night. Then on Saturday afternoon, I put the fish in the old measuring cup while I clean out his bowl. I then pour clean water from the pitcher, followed by the water and fish from the cup.

And no, I never wash it.

"I knew the coffee tasted a little fishy this morning," I quipped.

"I guess I'm sunk." Husband responded.

"Yep. You took the bait."

Much later I looked at my arm and said, "My skin is so scaly lately."

Husband started to say the same about his, but caught himself at the last moment.

"I don't suppose that coffee will make us sick, will it?" He asked, later.

"Honey, that ship sailed.  If we get sea sick, we just do."

Daughter asked, "Is this a joke I'm supposed to swallow hook, line and sinker?"

And, "Do you feel swimmingly?"

And on and on, but I will spare you the rest.

Let's just say I hope Husband isn't reeled in by that old measuring cup again.