Fave Fives . . .

Not long ago my mother asked me what my five favorite birds were. I thought that would be a good start to today’s entry of my fave fives of many different things. Each listing is in no particular order. They don’t necessarily go from most favorite to least favorite. Or vice versa. (Isn’t ‘vice versa’ a great phrase?) Also, these are my favorites as of today. Tomorrow could change everything.

My Five Favorite Birds:
red-wing blackbird
robin
sandhill crane
pheasant
meadow lark

My Five Favorite Books:
The Book of Mormon
Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Any book in The Far Side collection
Moonraker’s Bride by Madeleine Brent
Ramona the Pest by Beverly Cleary

My Five Favorite Main Dishes to Make for Supper:
crockpot meatballs (from a bag) in spaghetti sauce (from a can) over penne pasta (from a box)
chicken tenders (from a bag) with green beans (home canned), garlic toast, and applesauce (home canned)
Hawaiian haystacks (everyone can select what they like for toppings with minimal complaints)
Pappa Murphy take-and-bake pizza
grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and green beans

My Five Favorite Jobs to Delegate to My Children:
total toilet treatment
scooping the cat’s liter box
unloading the dishwasher
vacuuming the stairs (this is one I wish they’d do, but that I always seem to do myself)
cleaning sinks and counters in the bathrooms

My Five Favorite Body Parts:
eyes
ears
mouth
nose
brain

My Five Favorite Smells:
Russian Olive blossoms
newly mown grass
baking bread
meat cooking on a grill (especially our grill)
lilac blossoms

My Five Favorite Words:
repentance
forgiveness
atonement
mercy
Christ


My Five Favorite Things to Repeat:
You need to take a shower tonight.
Have you practiced the piano?
Are your jobs done?
Annie, fetch!
I love you.

My Five Favorite Outdoor Activities:
playing with the dog
working in the yard
walking
riding my bike
eating dinner on the back patio

My Five Favorite Childhood Memories:
Playing tomato baseball after the garden froze.
Dad pulling us behind Rabagar over the snowy fields on an innertube.
Sleeping out in the igloo Dad made in our front yard.
The Sunday morning Andy and I found an injured American Kestrel on our way to the end of the lane to retrieve the Sunday paper, and it hopped up his arm and onto his thick stocking hat. (he took it inside.)
Playing with Cleo, our dog.