Giant Woody

Okay, mind out of the gutter for a moment. On this overcast Easter morning, I was reading all the blogs I follow when I caught sight of something BIG out of the corner of my eye.

The computer is in the kitchen, and there is a glass slider door off to the side. The BIG something was one of these:

I tried to take a picture of it, but the bird was camera shy and I couuldn't get a good shot. Soooo, I went to my source for everything, the World Wide Web, and discovered that the huge woodpecker is, in fact, a Pileated Woodpecker. I learned that over the last 2 centuries, their numbers greatly declined with the increase in logging, but the ingenious birds have learned to adapt and are making a comeback. Yeah!

These birds are beautiful, and I am so glad I got to see one up close. It is larger than a crow, but not as big as the buzzards that seem to be everywhere (ugh).

It is wonderfully quiet right now. Not like 3 hours ago at 6am, when the yipping dog from hell woke me up. Dixie is a bona-fide bitch. She is a shih tzu, but I just call her a shit. Grrrrrrrrrr!

I guess I can't complain, as it got my butt out of bed so that I would be up to see the giant woody. And I had computer time to not only post this post, but to get my essay assignment turned in--yay me!

The honeysuckle is in bloom, so I shant stay mad long. I do get grumpy when I miss my beauty sleep....

Happy Easter, everyone.

Oh How I Love Thee, Grill

Ms. C bought a grill week before last, and I have been a grilling fool. She got the gas/charcoal combo grill, and whoa, baby--I have really broke it in.

We started with T-bone steaks as big as the plate for its inauguration. Next was burgers and dogs. Drunk chicken soon followed, as well as roasted chicken. More burgers and dogs. More steak--ribeyes. We have had corn on the cob on the grill, baked potatoes on the grill, and herbed wheat mini loaves of bread. We had my homemade baked beans, and we have had Bush's Grillin' Beans.

Tonight, it was more drunk chicken, barbecue chicken, grilled squash, grilled cabbage, baked beans, and pasta salad. It was heavenly, I must say.

If you have never made a drunk chicken, you must give it a try. I wish I would have snapped a picture of the birds on the grill. Here is the simple recipe:

Drunk Chicken

1 roasting chicken

1 can beer (cheap is fine--the bird doesn't mind!)

1/4 cup Dales or Moores marinade--or any marinade that floats your boat

1 tablespoon coarsely chopped garlic

1/2 lemon

olive oil

Seasoning salt

Pour 1/2 the beer into a two-cup liquid measuring cup. Add the marinade and garlic. Squeeze the juice of the lemon into the liquid. You could also add some of the zest to take it up a notch, but I don't have a zester at my disposal at the moment.

Drink the remaining beer--you can't waste beer! Pour the contents in the measuring cup into the empty beer can.

To prep the bird, make sure the neckbone and organs are removed from the cavity. Rinse the bird and pat dry. Rub the bird with olive oil, then sprinkle with seasoning salt.

Stand the bird so that the beer can is inserted up its, er, well, its butt. Heh-hem. I know it looks silly, but trust me on this--it needs to be done.

Place the chicken on the grill. The best way is to support the can, then adjust the legs so that they are "balanced" and the bird can stand upright without tipping over. Give 'im a salute. I used the gas side of the grill for this, as it is easier to control the temperature. After igniting the grill, close lid and bring it up to 350 degrees. Adjust the flame so that you can keep the temp at a steady 350 for one hour. Check for doneness using a meat thermometer. Meat should reach 160 degrees. If juices run clear, it is a sure bet it is done as well.

Enjoy!

Sharing a Poem or Two

I have a writer trapped inside of me. I have stifled my creativity for so long, I forget it is there sometimes. I have a novel that I haven't worked on in (cringe) two years, and a short story I wrote in my head yesterday while I was sitting outside. CRAZY! The two poems below were "in-my-head" poems as well. I should have written them down while they were still fresh, as the written product is not what the original words were. I tried to recall them, but only was able to come up with the gist of them. Sigh.

Musing on Wisteria

Spring comes, shoulders draped in Wisteria

A vibrant purple wrap upon dancing trees

A youthful playfulness, saying,

"look at me, look at me!"

All too soon, (oh, too soon)

The spring wrap fades to a grey shawl

A mere shadow of what once was

As the Wisteria falls from favor

4/4/11 Weiser

Magenta

And there was a rosebush

It grew by the front porch steps

Much taller than I

I Having never seen it bloom

I waited as the first buds teased

Tight bundles of green

What color bloom lay hidden within?

Red? Yellow? or maybe pink?

Only the rosebush knew

And then--oh my! I see

The first hints of the encapsulated color

No longer hidden from view

Magenta! Not Red or Pink

But a color only worthy of itself

Bursting to greet the day

This rose is not coy-- Not one bit.

It is flashy and sassy

She will not be ignored

Her fragrance is seductive

Not like grandma's toilet water

No, Magenta is sexy

She flirts with everyone

All eyes are drawn to her beauty

A rose so bold

I noticed a subtle change today

Magenta was duller

No longer herself

She drooped on the branch

Struggled to keep her head up

Color draining

No longer smooth and delicate

Petals withered

Defeated

She bowed her head to rest

As the next bloom peeked

To meet the world

4/4/11 Weiser