A Year

My most beloved Sugar Franklin died a year ago tonight.  I often wear the locket that contains some of her ashes, as I did today.

My official retirement from work is next Friday.  My office is nearly cleared out and I've decluttered my home office almost enough to have everything fit.  I have no idea how things are going to turn out, but my plan is to finally get some serious writing done and then worry about what to do.  I've had too many projects left half finished because of time and stress; now I'm hoping to at least get caught up.

Transitions

It's been dreadfully hot and humid the past few weeks.  Storms yesterday, and a nice peaceful day today in the mid-80s.

I've had a good Saturday.  Farmer's market early this morning, then some serious decluttering of my home office.  Threw out three big bags of trash, and took two big loads to Goodwill.

Birdies and I had fresh, sweet corn on the cob for lunch, and I also had tomatoes with cottage cheese.

The big news is that I finally found a way to take early retirement!  I'll still have to work, of course, but I won't have to worry about being destitute.  My last day at that place will be October 8.  

I'm applying for online instructor jobs and I won't mind working part-time for the university, but I won't ever have to go back to the place that's been driving me crazy for the past three or four years.  There's even a good chance I'll be able to get enough peace of mind back to get some writing done.

I've been missing Sugar Franklin a lot the past week or so.  This time last year she and I were engaged in the mighty battle of cockatiel beak versus syringe.  She always won.  I was looking for something in the outside storage building the other day, and the first thing I saw was her cage.  I didn't clean it very well when I put it out there, so I was thinking today maybe I should just throw it out.  In the unlikely event I ever get another bird it will always be her cage.  I think I have another cage just like it in another storage area.  We don't have any rescues in this area, so there's really no one to give it to.

The Bobbsey Twins are just as silly as always, arguing over which perch to sleep on, throwing any poisonous substances such as vegetables out of the food dishes, demanding Nutriberries every night.

Charli is well, though I think she's been a bit more quiet lately.  More happy to sit on my knee and doze or hang out on the basket in the plant stand after a hard session of chewing up the sudoku book.  She's had a few more yellow feathers come in on her legs.  Someone on the brown-head list has noticed this on his brown-head as well; he likens it to getting gray hair.  Charli is about 11 now, maybe moving into the beginning of middle age for a brown-headed parrot.

I worry sometimes that I give her more attention than I do the Bobbsey Twins, but she demands more while the cockatiels have one another and don't seem to mind if I'm around or not (as long as there are plenty of treats available).

I was up late last night, which was okay because I figured I could sleep late Saturday morning. Except, of course, that I forgot that Nicholas does not believe any creature should sleep once the first molecule of sunlight appears.

So, in response to continual chirping and calling and demands to get the cage covers off, I drug myself out of bed and took off the cage covers. Congratulated everyone on being all nice and awake. I watched the Bobbsey Twins scamper around their cage, then Flash decided it would be a good time to masturbate. Which he did, while Nicholas tried to preen him. Flash likes to hold onto one of Nicholas's toys, a long rubbery bright pink spiraly thing, when he masturbates -- only it frequently slips out of his foot so he has to stop, grab the toy, readjust himself, and start over.

This proves that no life is without its complications.

Then I opened the blinds to see 2 finches and 2 female Cardinals at the bird feeder, and a never-before-seen-by-me bird at the suet cake. It had vivid sharp stripes of black and white, the tip of its head had a splash of red, and its breast was gray.

(Sidebar: If you aren't already a member of Cornell's Project Feeder Watch, do give it some thought. People all over the US note the birds at their feeders on specific days, which provides lots of data on migration patterns, numbers of birds, and other scientific stuff. Costs $15 a year and is fun to do. It runs from mid-November to April, but you only have to pick out a two-week period that's convenient for you. Here's the link. And no, they don't fuss at you if you forget.)

Back to my post -- The bird feeder swings in the air, and as I watched, several more birds flew down to feast. Except this was not acceptable to the birds already there, so there ensued a no-nonsense air battle whereupon everyone flew away.

I guess the birds could see my reflection in the window because they wouldn't stay around long enough for me to get group pictures or do a mini movie. This picture was taken through the screen and glass, and you can't see it but the feeder hangs from a tree branch.

Sugar Franklin always loved watching this view -- there are always seeds on the ground for the ground feeders and I use safflower seed in the feeder because the bigger birds (crows, starlings) aren't interested in safflower seeds. To the left of the neighbor's house and the feeder you can see part of the neighbor's back yard and out over into the street. She always had something interesting to keep track of when her slave wasn't home to provide scritches and treats.

I am most assuredly getting better. It's still strange to speak of her in the past tense, but I can speak of her now without bursting into tears and that's a sure sign of improvement.

Well, it's Saturday and I have a long, long list of things to get done today. God knows my parrots won't help with any of it . . . .

ashes to ashes

It's been almost three weeks since Sugar Franklin died. I finally cleared out the cart her cage sat on, cleaned her cage, and put them both out in the little storage building. The suddenly cleared space seems enormous now and I'm still getting used to it. There doesn't seem to be anything I can put in that place -- not the play stand, not a chair, nothing seems to fit.

When I come home I still catch myself looking for her. The other birds are sometimes glad to see me, sometimes not. But Sugar Franklin always ran back and forth, back and forth, in excitement to see me and hoping I'd bring her out first.

I'm also slowly remembering to only get out two food dishes instead of three. I've noticed that it seems to take a lot less time to feed my three remaining birds and that there is more time to pay them individual attention. I hadn't been aware of how much time and attention I'd given her.

Nicholas seemed to miss her the most at first. For several days he kept giving me alarm calls; when I would check on him he would turn his head and lean his little body toward her empty cage. They all seem now accustomed to her absence.

My plan, when receiving Sugar Franklin's ashes, was to put some into a pendant I could wear whenever I missed her too much. The rest I would bury under the tree where the bird feeder stands. I bought a wind flower ornament (www.intothewind.com) with bright colors that spin in the wind to mark her grave, but later I decided it might startle the wild birds.

When I hired two guys to do some end-of-summer yard work, I had one of them dig a small deep hole for her grave. Later I looked at the pile of dirt and simply couldn't bear to think of her ashes in that cold, wet dark place.

Then I considered just holding the ashes in my palm and letting the wind take them. After all, she was a bird, a creature of the wind. But Sugar Franklin didn't fly all that much, and I was always so afraid I might forget she was on my shoulder and go outside and lose her.

What it came down to, I finally realized, was that she belongs here at home with me. So I ordered a small container for the rest of her ashes, which I will put away someplace safe out of the sight of visitors.

Only ashes, I know, but as someone told me last week, everyone's grief is their own, and I won't apologize for whatever form of insanity her loss has brought me.

Poor Little Sugar

In this picture she looks like she's been in a fight.

The real story is that she had a tiny nick in the air sac behind the vein while having blood drawn at the vet's. This air sac circulates through the head and usually heals/closes very quickly, but not in this case.

She has blood in her beak and her nares, but she's okay! This should clear up in about a week. She's eating like a pig, drinking healthy amounts of water, producing perfect poops, and bossing me around -- just like always.

I'd taken her in to check on her uric acids; first time since that awful few weeks back in June. Unfortunately, her levels this time were 21; normal is 10. This means we have to go back to meds for some indeterminate time. We're not starting this week in order to give her time to clear up the blood issue.

I sure do dread giving meds, but I'm glad she's doing as well as she is.

I'm taking tonight off from piano practice, laundry, writing, cooking, and anything else I'm supposed to do.

I took some pictures of my beloved Sugar Franklin, and I'm going to try to upload a little video. This may be the video that ends with me tilting the camera up to the ceiling, but I don't know yet how to deal with the software to fix that.

Keep your fingers crossed!