Y'all. Somehow we must have missed a few eggs yesterday. These are the ones we gathered today. There are twenty in that bowl and none of them from little Violet or little Tweety which leaves thirteen hens. Twenty eggs from thirteen hens in one day? This is not possible. And let me add that Mr. Moon said there's another hen on the nest as we speak. How could we have missed that many eggs yesterday?
Earlier this afternoon when there were only sixteen in the bowl, I laid them out to see which ones appeared to be from the same hens. Only those three pairs at the top are, in my opinion, laid by the same lady. Some of the others may appear very similar but do not match any others exactly and trust me- each hen's eggs are completely unique to her whether of shape, color, size, "finish" (some are glossy, some matte, some almost rough), or markings like little freckles.
It is quite obvious that either I am one of those people who have learned to be amused and fascinated by the smallest things or that I really just need to get a life.
But in all honesty, I am amused and fascinated by eggs and they still thrill me after all these years, these perfectly shaped ovals of pure protein. The way they feel in the hand, the way they look in the nest and in the bowl and the way they look on the plate when they are cooked.
They are magic to me. One of the best pragmatic miracles of all.
So. What did I do today besides play with eggs? Well, I cleaned out the hen house because...shit happens. I got to talk to a friend on the phone whom I hardly ever talk to and it was intensely sweet. I washed all the bedding in the pack'n'play because I think that August and Levon are going to spend the night tomorrow! Hurray! We can move the little bed into our room and with August on "his" bed on the floor, all four of us can sleep close together. Levon has never slept away from both parents so this will be a new experience. I think he'll do fine. And of course August will be thrilled to be adopted by Mer and Bop. For a little while, at least.
I made a new mask using a different technique for the ear loops. They are now adjustable which is a very good thing because the hardest part of masks for me has been getting the length of that elastic right. Too long and the mask is ineffective, too tight and it pulls on the ears and slips off. Mr. Moon just tried it on and gave me a thumbs up. So hurray for that!
Now. This is for Steve Reed. The other day when I mentioned losing my bobbin case into thin air, he commented that he had no idea what a bobbin case is. This is what it is:
For many of you, maybe most, this is not new information. But for those of you who do not sew, the bobbin is filled with thread via a clever mechanism of the machine, which in my case is a sixty-six year old Singer (same age as me) and then it fits into the case and the thread is pulled through a specific place and the tidy little package fits onto a spindle beneath the needle and...well, again- pragmatic magic occurs. Like the eggs, this sewing machine still manages to delight me every time I use it. Yesterday I used it to stitch up a seam in Mr. Moon's overalls and the old girl dealt with the canvas-like fabric with ease. "Old girl" being the Singer, not me, but I did okay too.
So that's life in Lloyd today. Basically. Pretty much. I did watch part of the debate last night but after awhile I again put down my crocheting and said, "I already know who I am voting for. This is bullshit," and walked away. Unfortunately I missed the fly. I thought Kamala did fine. I thought that the only thing Pence did which was even slightly impressive was that he framed his lies in complete sentences. I see that Trump refuses to debate Biden again in a virtual format. I guess he's trying to infect Joe Biden in hopes that he, because he doesn't have Trump's superior superman genes, will die of it.
Who the hell knows what that man thinks? It is comforting to realize that I can't begin to comprehend how his mind works. I may be crazy but I ain't Donald Trump level crazy.
One more picture from Cozumel because this is my blog and I love that island with all my heart.
That was yesterday morning before the storm had entirely passed. The boats are called "pangas" and are fishing boats. The owners carried them up to the sidewalk beside the sea wall and tied them to the white balls you see that are part of the wall's design. Cozumelians are born with the sea in their veins and navigate it like mer people. Those boats represent what are probably two families' entire economic investments and are the source of their sustenance and livings.
Thanks for indulging me.
Oh! One more thing- how many of you actually come back to read my replies to your comments? I've quite curious about this. And don't feel guilty if you don't.