Adoptive homes sought

Look what followed me home yesterday. I guess he must have known I have a soft spot for strays.

Good thing he was nice to the mail lady. I won't be keeping him though, since Mr. Gadget says he has to go, even though no pet-sitter would be needed when we leave for months at a time. Mr. G is all about me cleaning out clutter, which is what I've been up to the last couple of days. This is at the top of his nag list:

It's an old roaster oven that belonged to my grandmother. I'm having a hard time parting with it. I don't remember what she used it for, other than the Thanksgiving turkey. Mostly I remember it sitting on a table in her kitchen. She was into dressmaking and tailoring, and cooking not so much.She was quite the fashion plate in her day. Here she is, holding my mother....a mini-vision of fashion-platedness herself.

I have no idea if the roaster still works. I've been afraid to plug it in and see. The firemen have much more important things to do than to come to my house and put out a burning roasting pan. They might ask me some embarrassing questions, like "where's the chicken?"

If I was a gardening woman, I'd have a little fun like my relatives did when they installed a new toilet and planted the old one full of nasturtiums in their front yard. (Those things are hard to get rid of too.) I'd find a nice sunny spot and plant my roaster full of petunias. Or, I'd put it in the house on top of my other grandma's old sewing machine and fill it up with colorful fabric chickens.

And remember the sunflower? The one that stood proudly in defiance of the curmudgeonly rules? Well, I must be psychic. Here it is on Sunday.

And here it isn't on Monday.

Looks like a clean break to me, most likely a knife or some garden clippers. Mr. Gadget and I debated the possibilities over lunch today, and we both agree....this was definitely not the work of a barkrat....