Queen Kelley

Apparently, this is what I’ve become. If you ask my husband why, (other than my thirtieth birthday last fall) he’ll probably tell you it’s because of what he saw on our kitchen counter yesterday evening. Taken separately, the two items are likely innocuous–one recently came in the mail from amazon.com, and the other was a groomsman gift the King received. When stacked together, though, the King says they say, “Old Fart.”

Of course I beg to differ. We’ve had this feeder outside our home for nearly a year, and he and Butterfly have both delighted in keeping it filled. All of us, even little Ladybug, have enjoyed watching our feathered friends nest and dine. It’s only natural that I decided we needed a way to identify these funny creatures. And, when I received the book and began flipping through to find our most common visitors (brown thrashers, cardinals, house wrens, mourning doves, and tufted titmouses [titmice?]), it was only natural that I needed a way to see them more clearly. The King promptly brought me his binoculars. Butterfly and I had a good time looking through them and trying to figure out the intricate feather patterns on the birds. Well, I had a good time doing that. Butterfly kept looking at me through the wrong end and saying, “Mama, you look really tiny.” When it was time to clean off the table after dinner, I stashed my bird gear on the counter. That’s where the King found it and had his realization. It’s made for a few jokes at my expense. I’m not helping matters much, though.

This evening, when the King was heading to his workout at the gym, he noted that I was watching Antiques Roadshow with my mother. I fully intended to turn on a movie, but I’ll be honest. The roadshow rocks. Someone presents a hideous piece—a vase, a rotting trunk, a strange sculpture (look at that piece! better yet, look at its owner!) a painting I could do with my eyes closed—and the appraiser rattles off the rare qualities. The suspense builds until, finally, we learn that the item could sell at auction for several thousand dollars. Inevitably, the owner nearly faints with greedy joy. Or, someone presents a nice-looking piece, and the appraiser gets brutal. “This’ll net maybe twenty dollars. Sorry. It’s just not authentic.” The owner’s face? Appropriately grieved. And it goes on and on. Who can beat that?

Signing off,

The Old Fart (and proud of it)

Ps. It needs to be recorded here that the King set out a bowl of water for the birds. It seems that this Old Fart has found a hobby that everyone in the family enjoys!