Sing a song of sixpence.

"Four and twenty blackbirds, bakin' up a pie."
(this is how Nat and i always sing it– so much more wonderful to imagine a throng of them in the kitchen; sifting flour, measuring spices, and rolling out dough.)

Anyway, here is an interesting little piece about crows (and how rather rad they are). Our avian friends never cease to amaze me. Make sure to scroll down and take the identification test, too. It's a touch one! Nat and i guessed the first one correctly, but it became more and more difficult after that. i'm convinced that it's in the eyes, and the beak feathers.

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In other news:

i received a gift of (flowering) narcissus bulbs from a friend recently, and couldn't be happier.

Last night, after dinner with friends, we listened to An Elvis Christmas–loudly–on the drive home. Now we're dreaming of snow... hopefully this winter we will make it up North again. Unfortunately, during dinner, one of our servers decided it would be really great to brush his arm against our dining companion's breasts– three separate times. The table was crowded, and the space limited, so she told us not worry, that he was just trying to find a place to set down the rice, aloo gobi, dal... It was difficult not to storm out; i suppose, though, that if she was not upset about it then i should not have been. But how awful! As someone with very, er, minor amplitude, i have never had to worry about this particular offense. But seeing it happen in person was rather disgusting. Thank goodness i was able to quell my rage with my appletini.

And will someone please watch the movie Kontroll, so that we can talk about it here? What the deuce is happening at the end? There are too many possible scenarios for us to be happy with any one choice... definitely an enjoyable film to watch, though. Thank you, Netflix, for that "Dark/Psychological/Foreign" category you came up with, there. Bravo. Keep 'em comin'.