A museum of cedar waxwings outside the library

We were walking into our library a few weeks ago and heard an unfamiliar twittering. We were delighted to discover a flock (or museum, or ear-full--but who wants to think about wax and ears in the same adjective phrase?) of cedar waxwings having a feast of red berries in a yaupon tree. I am sorry to report that once inside the library I told one acquaintance (who had her five kids in tow) and one absolute stranger that they should RUN outside and behold the waxwings!! The Crazy Bird Lady pecks again.

I tried to paint it this morning, and would like to contrast my cedar waxwing with a pair of cardinals Harper painted over Christmas break. She is officially better than I am. She has a gift for animating her creatures that I don't think can be taught.

We have entered the world of team sports. Hudson is on a basketball team with some friends from school. He scored his first basket on Saturday (along with a free throw) and the Grandparents Pate were here to watch, which made it even more exciting. He has a birthday coming up this week, so we went to Escalantes before the game to celebrate. Our waiter figured out the birthday, plopped a velvet sombrero on Hudson's head, and crooned out a birthday ballad en espanol. Hudson was MORTIFIED (which proves birthday aversion might be genetic) and even the tres leches couldn't assuage his consternation. (sidenote: I can't eat tres leches, because while I love cake, I can't abide wet cake.)

When we were doing school at home Thursday, I found this note. My mom gave Harper her old typewriter last time we visited, and I gave her some replacement ribbons in her stocking.

"TOP SECRET DDSTROY AFTER READING!
Hudson,
something bad is going to happen.  That is all I can say. Because I do not know what the bad thing is. But I DO know whom it will happen to:

ERNIE

But, as I have said before, that is all I can say.

SINCERLY,

YOUR LETTER WRITING FRIEND."

I am most tickled with her proper use of 'whom' obviously. ERNIE is this little stuffed Ernie that was much beloved by Hudson when he was 2, but the poor guy has now become the much abused subject of many a shenanigan at our house. He gets blamed for the most unlikely things, and then his punishment is always exponentially more severe than it ought to be.

In closing, I got mistaken for Hudson's grandmother at the playground at school this week. Granted, it was a 5 year old, so it didn't sting VERY much. And as we walked away, Hudson, to clarify asked, "Wait, you AREN'T actually a grandmother, are you?" which made me laugh and reveal my wrinkles in all their glory.