On Christmas night, the two sons decided to add movies to their Netflix queue, collapsing into hysterics every few minutes. No film was too awful, apparently, including one about a very strange dwarf. I was careful not to remember the name of it. Earlier, they had forced me to watch the Doc Ellis No No video.

Here is a list of underrated movies from the Guardian. Of the ten, I’ve only seen one, Spirited Away, but I saw it three times.

A brief but very intense few moments in the ivy.

They’re a noisy bunch, the robins. After announcing their arrival, they tried to eat the dark berries of the ivy along the fence. I pruned back this ivy a few weeks ago. Had I known there was this much interest, I would have left them as they were.

Usually, they with their friends the cedar waxwings have a party in the pyracantha bushes, then disappear. Sometimes they don’t leave till they knock themselves silly on the windows.

Did they fall off the ivy? Repeatedly. The waxwings got their share, but I haven’t gone through all the movie frames to see if I managed to shoot any.

Once again, these are taken from video and are none too sharp. But you get the idea.

Usually when a hawk has dined in our backyard, only a few feathers are left on the ground. A couple of days ago, I found the bones of a good-sized bird, possibly a crow. The neighborhood crows harass the hawks mercilessly, and maybe one day a hawk just couldn’t take it anymore.

Every few years, I get up when it’s still dark, and head out to look for gift wrap and other supplies. Last year I slept in, probably the year before that too, but this morning the traffic sounds were too compelling. A family member was forced to go with me.

We didn’t make it out the door quite as early as I’d hoped, but this was a positive since it meant we wouldn’t be standing in lines. Surprisingly, the crowd at Target was sparse. The last time I did this, I waited in a cold but very congenial crowd who huddled close for warmth. Either the shoppers got in and out very fast, or people just weren’t interested this year. Lots of stuff left, so much that I didn’t have to go to the Hallmark store.

All year long, one of my neighbors gets packages. When a UPS truck comes down the street, it will pull up at their house. Ditto FedEx. Twice a day, usually. This gets tiresome, and I wonder if they have a thriving eBay business, for instance. All those packages! All that stuff!

For the last few weeks, all the trucks have been stopping in front of my driveway. Both UPS and FedEx, and just now, a fellow pops in with two packages, but I don’t see a truck. He came by in a plain white van, but the packages are from Amazon. Perhaps a third party seller.

Meanwhile, nothing is being delivered at the other house. I don’t understand. I know they have Christmas because every year, despite my extreme lateness in getting up lights, I know they will be later. Their lights went up last night. But I win this year because I’m not through putting up the last strings on the Christmas bush. (I’m trying to recover from the nasty respiratory whatever that I got from wrestling with said bush.)

The pishtaco is a legendary Peruvian monster who is out to get your body fat. It is making global news lately thanks to a group of modern criminals accused of heating and draining humans of their fat. The manner in which they accomplish this is not exactly how you would want to get rid of your excess fat.

Actually, this could get worked into some sort of holiday parable about fat.

As we walked in, a little girl in the riding seat of a cart was pummeling her brother lying down in the otherwise empty cart. Mom either didn’t see or was not bothered by this. In the vastness of the grocery section of the remodeled Sunnyvale Target, a small child was whining ‘Cookie, COO-kie’ in ever more desperate tones to his oblivious parents. The rest of us wanted to go over and have a serious discussion with him about You Better Not Shout, I’m Telling You Why.

The frozen section extended as far as the eye could see. They have organic bourbon vanilla ice cream. I think they have every frozen food known to man. Boursin cheese, sweet Italian sausage. Fresh fruit and veggies.

I only needed some Hershey’s kisses for peanut butter blossom cookies. Did I want plain, caramel-filled, peppermint pieces, Irish coffee or mint? When we staggered out of there, we had four of five bags of stuff.

A few years ago, I would haul out the ladder and hang lights all over the manageable-sized flowering crabapple out front. Then I would get one of the menfolk to do the same to the walnut tree. The crabapple grew. A tree-trimming crew came by a couple of years ago, and pruned it in a most unattractive way while ignoring the vast swaths of holly oak all up and down the street.

I turned my attention elsewhere. The photinia bush was a good roundish shape perfect for festooning, requiring no ladder. It was so friendly to this sort of thing that I hung Halloween lights over it later in the year. And, as these things turn out, I would leave the lights from year to year. At Christmas, I would plug in the multi-colored lights, at Halloween only the orange ones. It worked for several years.

This afternoon, it was balmy. I did some light pruning of the photinia, then plugged in the Christmas lights. Big dark spots where some strings didn’t survive the weather. I couldn’t find where the strings connected to each other. The bush was all criss-crossed in the center the way it shouldn’t be.

It was time to dismantle. I forgot how early darkness comes in December. By the time I located the third string of Halloween lights, looped at the base of many-forked branches, it was hard to see. Then there were the hopelessly tangled sets (four) of Christmas lights, all dusty and pollen-y from the pine tree above.

By the time I pulled all of them out, it was suppertime. I got two strings up, one with half the lights not working. From the street, it looks pretty dark, except for the lower three inches.

But they are a spectacular three inches. Tomorrow there will be success.

Stuff ordered Saturday is here already, as promised (thanks, Amazon!) The mailman just knocked with an armload of packages. I’ve begun a gingerbread house for the birds. No tree yet, we had a thousand errands over the weekend, but soon. Christmas music on. Cookie dough and candy to make.

I’m on page 14 of 85. It’s going to be a long afternoon, but I have snacks and if I want, hot cocoa. Blustery, wet and cold out there, and I’m not in line with deep coughers and snifflers (one right here at home). I won’t forget what level I parked the car on. No crappy, banal Christmas music.

And I might get 95% of it done today if all goes well.

After completely changing the feeder scene yesterday (removal of regular tray, seeds and cornmeal mix), I wanted to see how long it would take before the juncos, chickadees and lone wren recognized a new food form (the spreadable suet mentioned a couple of posts back). Of course this was set on different seasonal props.

The spritely wren made hungry sounds, and dug in shortly after I left the table. Within the hour, the juncos were cautiously trying out the new treat. The chickadees, used to a quick fly-in-and-out, were slower, but also caught on.

I put a fresh poinsettia bloom on the hummingbird’s round, saucer-shaped feeder about an hour ago. Looked very festive. Sparky flew in, checked it out, took off. He did this several times even though I left a feeder hole prominently accessible. The last two times he checked, he came over to the window where I work, and hovered. I told him to figure it out. Perhaps in a couple of hours, when he is good and hungry, I’ll present the small hand-held feeder. He gave it a serious look the last time I held it out, but then he had all the feeder holes open.

Just now, he flew by his old feeder location under the roof overhang and set the wire hanger to swinging back and forth. He’s pretty ticked off. I’ll probably relent and remove the offending poinsettia.

I was out for orange juice, although it may be a bit late for the family member down with a cold. Heading to the parking lot, I encountered a fellow striding briskly toward the store. He made a kind of flapping sound with one foot, and when he got closer, I saw a white plastic bag stuck to his shoe.

He didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t look like the sort of person you’d want to go up to and say, ‘Uh, look, there’s a bag on your shoe. And everyone is looking because it’s making a lot of noise.’

So I came home with two large containers of juice and a pack of Ace bandages, the new kind that doesn’t need the sharp little grippers that I hated. I never know when one of my thumbs is going out of whack, and it’s good to be prepared. I’ve spent many weeks with sore thumbs, one from repetitive use, the other from multiple lacerations brought on by pruning of overgrown ivy and honeysuckle vines.

I’m just sure that I’m going to catch the cold as well, two weeks before Christmas.

The juncos were upset, as usual, when I removed their usual feeder of seeds. A chickadee flew in, and when I opened my hand to reveal peanuts, it hopped on and took one.

Rearranging props for another photo session involves brooming off the table, then setting forth more bird munchies. I’m still working with Christmas props, and I guess I’d better hurry because tomorrow, rain is coming. Not only that, my living props of poinsettias and other holiday plants are looking a little worn.

I’ve been meaning to make a batch of suet, and now that it dips into the low 30s at night, it was time. I used a recipe from here, and mixed shortening with peanut butter and cornmeal with a little oatmeal. I could form the resulting mass into small balls. They looked a lot like the peanut butter balls I used to make for the kids.

Some people spread this mix onto tree trunks and branches. Hahahahahahaha. Do the squirrels really need further fattening?

It didn’t take long for the birds to decide they really, really like suet.

Usually, when I dream about dead family members, they are alive and well. Seldom are they frail and sick, especially my parents. Sometimes they might show up with a walker, but not often.

The other night I dreamed my Mom appeared back in the family circle, going about her business as if she didn’t die around Christmas 2006. She sat at the table, bemused.

All I could think about was how to explain to her that I’d given away all her clothes.

A sequence of frames from footage I took a few days ago. When I figure out how to embed video in the blog, you’ll be the first to know.

The chickadees are bullied by the juncos, but once in a while, they manage to feed in peace.

They drop a lot of their food. Sometimes they manage to recover it.

You might have thought it too big for a tiny chickadee to handle.

Getting a good grip is critical.

At Rancho San Antonio this morning, we were too far away to get a decent shot. The kite appeared to be rubbing the side of its head on a branch. When I tried to get closer, it took off. Low-res image is from my footage.

It was only in the high 40s this morning, so I stood outside with my hand of peanuts waiting for a chickadee to land. I didn’t use the fingerless gloves, thinking it might scare them.

They landed elsewhere on the seed trays. I put some of the food in the house. A chickadee hops on my hand, gets a peanut, takes off. Unfortunately, I am standing almost directly under the hummingbird feeder, and the next time a chickadee tries to land, the hummer flies in at the same time. Of course it startles me, which frightens the chickadee, but it comes back. All told, there were five landings, possibly the same brave one.

Meanwhile, Sparky the hummer is only inches away, feeding happily. He’s made of sterner stuff than I. When I watered down some of the plants earlier, he darted back and forth waiting for an opportune moment to leap into the water. Once I realized what he wanted, I turned the spray down, and he got on an outer limb of the bougainvillea, and just reveled in his shower. I went inside for a hoodie to go over my sweatshirt.

There are plans for him, especially now that I’ve stuck my hand out and he looks at it curiously without backing away. Over the weekend I got a smaller hummingbird feeder, the kind that goes into potted plants. I just haven’t figured out how to get photos of all this yet.

For the past few frosty mornings, I’ve been outside filming birds. Those of us in the Bay Area are spoiled, and think it’s really cold when it’s in the low 40s. If you’re standing still for long periods of time, it can be.

Back in band days, the boys had white fingerless gloves, but these can’t be found when I’m in a hurry. I ordered these, and they just arrived. I’m surprised to see loose strands, but assume I can just snip those off, and there won’t be unraveling to the point that I’ll eventually just have wristlets.

Others have various solutions, most of them somewhat pricey. My favorite is the Wal-Mart version, which I might investigate when I can get up the gumption to go there again.

The birds were suspiciously absent from the feeder, yard and trees again this morning. I took a look around without binoculars, but saw nothing in the way of predators.

Next time I’ll look a bit longer. Just now, a great pair of wings sailed over the sky, possibly from the redwood in the back. When chances for befriending chickadees with a handful of peanuts diminish, the opportunity for hawk shots rise.

Why can’t I remember this.

The juncos are the first back, this time they brought their shovels and are going at the seeds with a vigorous appetite.

No, I didn’t get a shot of it.

They are known to eat out of your hand if you have enough patience. While the flock here gets very close, one had yet to make the leap. This morning, I had to spend extra time getting props set up. Sometimes they knock over things, and I was making sure this wouldn’t happen today.

One was in the bushes next to the feeder table. I took a couple of peanuts and held them out. It jumped right onto my hand, chose one and took off. Because I had a shooting plan with props firmly adhered in place, I didn’t follow up by offering more.

However. One morning I’ll work at this and see if more will join in.

They do like my Manfrotto tripod. When I take a break, I remove the camera but leave the tripod outside. Naturally I missed the shot of the one perched on the head.