(via prettylittleparadox)Source: w0lfsbanes
These robins are killing me. The nest fell (or was pushed [cue ominous music]) from the light, and I know at least one of the hatchlings died. I wept about it. But there are two surviving chicks that hop (and poop) in front of my door.
And I can’t relax. Now that the nest is on the balcony floor, I worry about how vulnerable the birds are. I also worry about the warning chirps I get from their parents…
Couple of things:
1. For the past couple of years, I’ve believed that tabbouleh was babaganoush. I learned the difference between the two during this outing.
2. The music playing in this restaurant was so crunk that the woman who brought out our food couldn’t help nodding her head and snapping her fingers a bit.
It’s starting to look like I’m done cooking for the summer…