I didn't get to knit much last night. Our son's school had the spring concert and talent show. All the way home from school I heard how he was NOT going. Maybe I should add a paragraph here that says, "NOT going NOT going" all down the screen, so you can get the visual version.

We had tears. We had yelling. We had sobbing.

We had supper.

We went to the concert. He had to sit in the front. And he did sing. Some of the time.

He likes to sing, but he does not like to sing for Miss B., his music teacher, a perfectionistic young woman. He'll do darn near anything for a teacher who is upbeat and cheerful, but . . . I asked him what Miss B. looks like when she smiles.

"She never smiles," he said.

Uh-oh.

Brown Thrasher News

She's in there. She's in the rose bush. Tuesday I filled the bird feeder, and I opened the window by the feeder after I came in. I heard the male thrasher sing right outside my window. That was odd -- it's late in the season for them to sing. So I went out and gingerly stuck my head into the rosebush. Her yellow eye looked right at me.

On the one hand, I think it's pretty cool that she's in there. On the other hand, she's nesting in a fenced yard frequented by two dogs. *sigh* I hope this works out!

When they were building that nest, I saw them hopping on the rose canes, making the whole bush bob up and down with their weight. I thought they had given up that spot, because I was not seeing any movement in the bush. Tuesday I did a good bit of knitting after I realized she was in there, and I saw the male fly and land on the top rail of the fence. They are so-o sneaky. They completely faked me out!