Birds and Cubs

The Cubs went down to the Dodgers, and you probably don't care too much. Maybe you do. In any case, I let nine men (plus pinches) break my heart. Again. I am growing equipped to deal with life's disappointments. By the time I'm 30, I should be able to roll with any punches. Having perennial hopes squashed year after year is pretty damn harsh.

Having traded my old trumpet for an old sewing machine (thank you, Craig's list!), I've gone on an alteration rampage. All of my rad-but-gigantic shirts WILL fit, and thus my rather limited wardrobe will get a boost. AND I'm knitting my first hat ever! It looks small, but I think it'll stretch out. There was much craftiness this weekend, although that table I've been meaning to refinish is still unfinished. Or rather, it's half-finished and the project is unfinished.

Flickers have been following me this week. They're one of my favorite birds to watch because they're so sassy and beautiful. I've seen both males and females lately - distinguished by the red shafts on the cheeks, which the females lack. For a while, they were teasing me; I think they know that their call is one of the few I can identify, and therefore decided to hide in trees and let those little "wiki-wikis" loose. They sound a bit like a flinchy turn-tablist scratching an oboe track. Oh, it turns out that the little songbird I saw while hiking Larch Mountain last week was a Townsend's Warbler. The sweet thing was that I was looking down from the peak and got a (sorry...) bird's eye view of the little thing flitting around above the treeline of this colossal old growth forest. So awe-inspiring.