Dreary New Year

 The New Year has started drearily. No rain. No snow. Just low-hanging gray clouds. It is as if even the sky can’t get motivated to do anything. What chance do I have? The fun part of winter is over, and we have only to hunker down until spring. Every day, the weather forecasters promise sunshine. Every day, this is a lie. Today, for example, started like this:

The clear sky is a thin bright stripe on the horizon

See the bright stripe on the horizon? That’s the “clear sky” for this morning. Sometimes the clouds break up for a brief moment. When I was out doing the chicken chores at 9:00, there was a fair expanse of blue to the north. Alas, the southern sky was still cloudy. The sun filtered through with anemic, watery light.

A momentary glimpse of blue

As I write this, the clouds have pushed the blue away, and I suspect that’s how it’s going to be for the remainder of the day.

Meanwhile, because there is no precipitation in the forecast, I uncovered the dust bath. The chickens, at least, are having a happy day. Frankie jumped in right away and started kicking up gravel. Dottie at the larger pebbles to recharge her gizzard.

Frankie in the dust bath--three others circle, looking for their chance

Bonnie hopped in after Frankie left.

Bonnie is up next

From my perspective, the best part was seeing the girls’ perfectly healthy legs. I hope we have put leg mites behind us forever.

A beautiful, mite-free leg!

Another thing that makes me happy about chickens is their fluffy butts. They look so soft and warm. The down sways back and forth when the chickens run, adding to the overall comedy of that activity. It’s the little things this time of year.

Luella's fluffy butt

The cats also seem to be feeling the post-holiday let-down. Bingo prefers to lounge in the living room.

Bingo naps on "his" recliner

Banjo spends much of his day in the “half pipe” cat tree in the study, wishing for morning sun.

Banjo in the half pipe

Bingo likes to burrow into things. He can often be found underneath the pillowcase that we put over the cat bed in a futile attempt to keep the cat fur off the bed and on the much-easier-to-wash pillowcase. One day, he had trouble finding the opening of the pillowcase and had to content himself with burrowing under the bed itself.

Not as good as inside the pillowcase, but it will have to do.

Two days later, he was able to get in the pillowcase. Banjo came over to sit on him, put his front paws around his neck, and groom his head. Bromance. So cute.

Banjo grooms Bingo. It will only be fun until someone bites an ear.

For a long time, I only bought Crisco in stick form. I use it in pie crust along with butter. Crisco makes the crust flakier for reasons I once knew. Butter makes it taste good. Anyway, the stick was easier to measure than the can. I don’t bake pies very often, so I keep the stick Crisco in the freezer. I bought a can because I have a ceramic baking dish that cannot be buttered or sprayed with nonstick oil sprays (because of additives and whatnot). Oil was acceptable, but I found it too messy.

So Crisco. When I was a kid, Mom kept the Crisco at room temperature. Since then, the trans-fats have been removed. I don’t know what that does to Crisco’s stability at room temperature. I searched the label for storage instructions to no avail. I did, however, find this: “Not intended for use as a spread.”

Not intended...

The language is interesting. It does not say, “Use as a spread is prohibited.” Instead, it seems to imply that although the makers of Crisco didn’t mean for it to be a spread, if you want to slather it on your morning toast, knock yourself out.

I keep my Crisco in the refrigerator. I do not put it on toast.