My Poetry Manuscript

C and I ran a small literary press back in the early 90s, and he has since gone on to run his own publishing company. So when I ran into him at the Book Fair three years ago, I said, "Well, you've published everybody else we know. When are you going to publish me?"

He told me to send him my manuscript, which I did. And never heard from him again. His company publishes a lot of literature and local interest stuff, and C's made a good name for himself and his press.

I was talking to JBH a month or so ago about sending my manuscript to a Louisville press and I mentioned C. JBH told me to keep after C, even after three years of silence. So I did.

And . . .

I just heard from C; he said he does want to publish my poetry manuscript but that it wouldn't be until late next year. The press is booked (so to speak) that far ahead. (And no, he wouldn't publish me just because we're friends or if he didn't think he could make money from it.)

Yea!!!

Of course, I was planning to send my manuscript to the Louisville press during their submission period but now I'll have to see if C accepts simultaneous submissions.

C said to go ahead and tinker with the poems since poets are always tinkering with their poems (this is true; poems are never finished, they're just abandoned).

Double yea!

My book about brown-headed parrots is still with the publisher; he wrote me a few weeks ago to send him some more pictures for the cover and back, so I asked the folks on the brown-head parrot list to contribute. And did they ever! Three people sent in almost a hundred pictures, which I forwarded on so the publisher can choose.

I wore one of my nice suits to work today, just in case I do have to give a disposition.

Sore Fingers & Dr. D's

I had Charli out for a little over an hour, scritching her little head and letting her sit on my hand and preen, dropping the occasional feather.

Then I let out the cockatiels; Sugar Franklin on my shoulder and the Bobbsey Twins on top of Sugar's cage. They like to eat her food and play with her toys -- even though it's the exact same food and toys they have in their cages.

Yesterday I got my free sample of bird pellets from Dr. D's Avian Pellets. Someone on Tiel Talk was bragging about how much their parrots loved these pellets, so I paid $8.95 shipping for a "free" five-pound sample.

Charli at a few, then ignored them. Sugar ate maybe three and ignored them. The Bobbsey Twins ignored them altogether.

Honestly, I was a bit concerned about the list of ingredients -- for example, it lists "forage product (alfafa)." Why not just say alfalfa? Ground limestone? Parrots don't need grit, so I'm a bit uncertain about limestone, though I'm sure it's a very tiny amount.

Not too bad a day at work. One of the lawyers stopped by this afternoon, and we went over some of the documents. Then, after three or four phone calls, we decided that I probably won't have to give a disposition after all. Yea!

Wandered around and found more blogs last night. Barista Brat (blogger works at StarBucks)' SoCal Cabbie; and The Blog That At Manhattan (physician and cook).

I need to stop following those enticing links!

No Rest for the Wicked

After the Evil Committee meeting I ran into the manager of the Patient Education Center in the hospital lobby.

"Everybody's looking for you," she said.

I laughed because no one ever looks for me.

"No, really. A bunch of lawyers are here and they're dying to talk to you. We've been calling everybody, trying to track you down."

Oh lord. I was already late but I allowed her to call the office where the lawyers were going over things with Risk Management. Two very handsome, well-dressed white male lawyers trotted into the Ed Ctr and we found a private office to go over things.

Turns out I have to give dispositions anyway -- and here I thought Risk Management was going to take care of it, like they always do. So now I've got about three zillion documents to read and "refresh my memory" with.

I was almost late for the women's chorus rehearsal, but I have my priorities!

Low Humidity Monday or Blogs

I am officially addicted to blogs. It all started when I signed up for Google alerts for parrots. Google sends me news items and various bits and pieces from the internet any time parrots are mentioned. One post was about a little cockatiel who was bleeding from the mouth and the owners rushed it to the vet's. I clicked on the entry and ended up at Incremental Degrees. I bookmarked the site and clicked the next day to see how the bird was doing -- the bird was fine, though no one knows what happened. And the writer of the blog is a very, very good writer so every once in awhile I'd stop by to see what was going on in their life.

A year or so later another Google alert mentioned Parrot Musings, so I started reading that one, too.

And last year I started my own blog, out of boredom at work primarily. Then I stopped until about a month ago.

Then, somehow I don't recall, a few weeks ago I stumbled on ERnursey's site and I've been reading blogs ever since.

Unrequited Love

Flash and Sugar Franklin are both on the back of the couch. Flash has moved to about 8 inches of Sugar. Any closer and she hisses and snaps at his tail. Sugar thinks she's a human and doesn't want to be bothered by some "bird." Poor Flash. She's just snapped at him so hard he flew off to stand on her cage with Nicholas. Even from there he watches her.

Nicholas is a different story. When I first saw Nicholas he was in the lobby cage at the avian vet's office. He looked like no cockatiel I'd ever seen -- grey with all his feathers curled up, and he was very thin. But with bright eyes and a lot of energy. I asked what was wrong with him and everyone said they couldn't find anything wrong with him, and I knew my vet wouldn't put him in the lobby if he was sick.

He always shrieked at Sugar Franklin, and when we would leave the clinic I would hear him call after us in the parking lot. Poor thing was in love with Sugar, I thought.

A year or so later one of the vets asked if I wanted him. His curled feathers had molted out to be replaced with a sleek soft plumage, and he still proclaimed his love for Sugar loudly. She, of course, ignored him.

The vet assured me there was nothing chronically wrong with him; he'd been through all the tests. He was thought to be 13 to 15 years old. One of the vets had rescued him from a woman who bred cocktiels but never cleaned cages and smoked two or three packs of cigarettes a day and kept him on a seed-only diet. Poor thing should have been dead. He weighed about 68 grams.

So I took him home in his old ratty cage, which I threw out as soon as I got him settled in one of my nicer ones.

Once he realized Sugar was "not interested" he eased up on the shrieking, and just a few months ago I learned he was given to me because he shrieked at everybody. And here I thought it was because he loved Sugar.

He always calls a different call when someone pulls into the driveway or steps onto the porch, even if I can't hear him. He's better than a dog about that. He's up to 78 grams now and is still bright-eyed and rarely stands still. I've had him several years now, and I love him dearly for his enthusiasm and optimism. He has loud calls and moderate calls; he loves to do the wolf whistle, only he messes up the first two notes. Charli doesn't like Nicholas' loud calls, and she'll chirp loudly at Nicholas to shut him up. Which rarely works.

Sugar Franklin, by the way, is drinking her special water but only when she's so thirsty she can't avoid it. She'll take a drink, look up at me, and then back away from the dish. Poor baby. I tasted the water and there is a very, very slight trace of vinegar.

I'm sure Flash would rescue her from water with vinegar and honey in it, if only she'd let him.globe_blogs.gif