Windowscape and still life with sock

I guess feet don't really count as still life, but maybe if you are really still for a really long time they would. Anyhow, Rick and I were lounging in the living room this morning, or living in the lounging room perhaps, and the sun was streaming in the big bay window--our Spring seems to be springing itself all over just now--and I noticed how the sun was hitting his foot, and he was wearing the new socks I got him for Christmas, and so I just had to share:


And then I shot this windowscape (pay no attention to the abundant dust):


Yes, that would be St. Francis there with birds perching on him. We are big on birds around here. Rick discovered birds many years ago (and I'll bet you thought there were always birds!) and so he can often be found with a pair of binoculars in hand, looking at some kind of tweeter. I like to look at the pretty birds en masse, but I am not what you would call a birdwatcher, er, birder, I mean. The new breed of birdwatchers seem to like to be called birders, lest they be mistaken for birdwatchers, who are British grannies wearing skirts and knee-high hosiery. So, as I was saying, you couldn't call me a birder, because I failed Birdwalking.

Once Rick invited me on one of his cool birdwalks, and we drove a million or so miles out into The Middle of Nowhere, where we met up with a bunch of people wearing Bermuda shorts and sporting field glasses, and set out to birdwalk. Well, not so fast, there, Missy. A birdwalk doesn't seem to involve very much Actual Walking. What it does have is a little teeny tiny bit of walking, and then someone whispers something, and everybody stops still and whips their field glasses up to their eyes, and then they all stand like statues for something like an hour or two, and after that, we walk again for two to four minutes until somebody whispers again, and, well. Miss Fidgetypants doesn't do Birdwalking very well.

I don't want you thinking that all I did today was lounge around, though, no, no, no. We got busy out in the garage and got that place all sorted out. We loaded up my truck with a whole bunch of old cans of paint to take to the recycling/trash place, but by the time we were ready to leave, it was 3:00 and the recycling/trash place closes at 3:00 and besides, it turns out that they don't take old paint anyway. So we unloaded all the paint cans, which now reside behind the garage until they get taken to the hazardous waste place or until we all die, whichever comes first. Then we aired up my left rear tire, which has had a nail sticking out of it for months now and has a slow-now-becoming-not-so-slow leak, and jump started the truck, which had a dead battery, and drove to the hardware store to buy pellets for the wood pellet stove. In other words, we pretty much had a completely glamorous day. As befits a birder and a beeyotch.