Impotent Jealously

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I'm snowed in, which means I sit around and surf the internet.  And eat.  And watch trash TV.  And scritch birds.  And stay up until two or three in the morning, then sleep exceeding late.  Which is okay, of course, except that I've basically been doing this for over a month.  And that's not okay.  Or at least it's not okay with me.

It's not like there's nothing to do around here.  I have two closets full of clothes that could be decluttered and organized.  I could clean out my refrigerator and freezer and stock up with nice, healthy, organic foods.  I could be writing the great American novel.  Or poem.  Or article.  Or blog.   I am teaching an English class for an online university, and I'm enjoying that.

But I need to be doing something useful.  Or creative.  Or constructive.  Or something.

I came across this blog this afternoon and was so envious of this person's talent.  The internet is just full of sites and people like this.

http://frenchtoastgirl.com/

Then I was reminded this afternoon of this wonderful little video/poem, which I love

But I absorb these wonderful works of art and become sad and jealous that I'm as dry as a bone, creatively speaking.  And have been for a long time.

I know it's been a hard, destructive couple of years, and I know transitions take some time -- especially when it comes to the Muse.   But I'm impatient.

I've been toying with the idea of taking a trip to some place in Europe for a few days, or maybe a cruise.  Nothing too extravagant but foreign enough to perhaps kick the pump back into gear.  Then I get myself into a morass over all my choices and can't decide between this one or that one.  Whereupon I feel the need to go eat ice cream.

sigh . . . . .

Had Christmas with my mom on Christmas Eve.  Neither of us wanted to drive in case we really got the three inches of snow predicted for Christmas Day.We met at the Cracker Barrel at Brannon Crossing to eat and exchange gifts.  We were both thinking the same things because we gave each other candy and chocolates and money.

We did get about three inches of soft fluffy snow; it was the nice kind that swept off easily with my broom, but cold enough to freeze and crunch underfoot.  It got up to 30 degrees in the afternoon, but I don't think it got much below 24 last night.

I decided to brave the roads and go to the movies.  The roads were, in fact, perfectly clear except for my subdivision.  I went to the Movie Tavern; its parking lot was full but not the lobby. 

I bought a ticket for True Grit -- even though I'd seen the original I knew Jeff Bridges could do anything better than John Wayne.  And he did not disappoint.  The girl who played Mattie Ross was wonderful, as was Matt Damon.  The Cohens even directed using what I assume was more genuine language -- no contractions.  I don't remember the ending of the original movie, but this ending was perfect.  Mattie at 35 or 40, missing her left arm because of the snake bite, dressed in black, chastising the man as trash in the Wild West Show because he did not get up when a lady (she) was present, and then having Cogburn's body moved to her town, buried high on a hill, she dressed all in black.

As Cogburn rode through the night with Mattie trying to save her life, I wondered if the roads had iced over and if more snow had fallen back in my real life.  Would I be forced to blaze a trail down Richmond Road and into my subdivision, as if I too were in a western only fighting ice rather than outlaws or snakes?  But of course no additional snow had fallen and the roads were all clear.

There was a decent amount of traffic for seven at night, though it was odd to see so many dark buildings -- Wal-Mart, office buildings, restaurants.  Only Kroger's and the Shell station were open as I drove home. 

Got home just in time to watch a Gray's Anatomy re-run and catch up with the laundry and scritch some parrots.

December Snow

We got about 3 inches of snow last night.  I'm so glad I don't have to go to work in this mess.  In fact, I'm glad every day now I don't have to go to work.  People I talk to who are still there say nothing has changed, and I count my lucky stars.

I'm not getting as much writing done and I'd imagined I would.  On the other hand, I'm sleeping more and a lot better.  I no longer get those awful panicky sensations of dread in my stomach, and I find it a lot easier now to join groups and sign up for activities and shows I would have never done before.  I even met with a dining club group a few weeks ago where I didn't know anyone.  And it was just fine.

My birds are fine and seem to take it in stride that I'm home almost all the time.  More scritches for them!

I did come down with one of the strains of flu at Thanksgiving, and yes I did get a flu shot in October.  It took forever, but I did recover.

I took the Bobbsey Twins in for their annual well-bird check-ups last week.  Nicholas is 22 years old -- I knew he was old for a cockatiel, but I didn't realize he was that old.  Both boys are in fine shape, except that Nicholas has some worn places on his feet where he insists on standing on the food dish perch, which is hard plastic, all the time.  There's no way to wrap vet tape around it.  I hate to take it away and just have food dishes on the floor of the cage, but I may have to.

Here's a little video of Nicholas, taken with my new iPod Touch.

Here's a little video of Flash, who doesn't really like people.  Yes, they're allowed to come out of their cages, but they prefer not to.

Here's a little video of Charli eating some of the Very Best Banana in the World yesterday.

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).