New Birdie

If I had unlimited time and money and

space I'd love to have four or five of each species of parrot.  

But I have neither the time or money or space, so I'm perfectly happy now with Charli and with Flash.

Until I saw this little cockatiel offered for adoption from a local dog and cat rescue.

His name is Cheb. He was found under a car three years ago by a woman who kept him until now. She's working full-time and going to school full time, which doesn't leave much time for Cheb.

He is extremely smart. He says "whatcha doin" and "pretty bird" and seems to be working on some new words.  He loves to whistle and sing, too.

Toast

I admit it -- I love toast. Hot from the toaster oven, smeared with real butter, topped with marmalade or jelly.

This morning I had cinnamon and sugar on my toast. On real bread from Great Harvest, not that squishy blob stuff from the chain grocery.

And I'll admit this, too -- today's post isn't really about toast.  Toast is just my way of easing into the act of writing something other than the endless comments on Facebook.

The third thing I'll admit is that I'm severely addicted to Facebook. I love the stream of colorful posts between snippy saying from people I've never met but consider to be "friends" because we've shared Facebook posts for years.

sigh . . . .

It's been a rough week.  No doubt about that.  My last aunt died a few weeks ago, then Liz Wilson died, and then I got the news that my last uncle (not related to my last aunt) was not expected to live much longer. I had a bad episode of depression, so bad in fact, that I was mean to my therapist. I'm sure he's used to far more abuse than someone like me can hand out, but I feel rotten about it. An apology is in order, and he'll get one at our next appointment.

I continue to job search, with no success.  I've written a couple of articles for which I won't get paid; more of a favor than anything else, plus it's good for my so-called discipline. Well, if I actually had any discipline, that is.


Had a quick chat with the tomato guy at the local farmers' market yesterday morning.  He told me what plants to order, which I will. I do this every year, without any success, but I love tomatoes and sooner or later they'll thrive!

I'm not 100% sure how I feel about the police not giving Miranda Rights to that guy who bombed Boston earlier this week. He's an American citizen, so he has those rights regardless, right? They've certainly got more than enough evidence to convict him.

L and I went to that restaurant out of town I've been wanting to visit.  Beautiful farm country, 30 minutes from my house, deserted roads, delicious food, good service. I had the country ham and swiss po-boy; L had the pulled pork sandwich. I ate too much dessert.

It's going to be a beautiful day. Tonight I'm joining Bev and some of her friends at Bella Notte to celebrate her birthday (which is tomorrow).

Liz

She could be maddening.

Stubborn.

A real pain in the ass.

But we loved her anyway.

(Saturday, April 13, 2013)

Nicholas

My sweet little Nicholas, who died on November 11, 2012.

He was always loud and opinionated, a firm believer that humans were put on earth to scritch his little head.

He had the softest feathers of any parrot I've been fortunate enough to touch.

We're still not quite sure what happened. I noticed his nares were red and he fell off his perch. I hospitalized him over night and his breathing got better. I brought him home, but could get enough nutrition down his stubborn little beak. Back to the hospital, where he was doing better and then died that night.  The necropsy suggested he died of aspiration.

All I know is that he's gone and I miss him terribly.

Flash seems to have blossomed though, now that Nicholas is gone.  He didn't spend much time being sad or looking for his cage mate, but he immediately began singing Nicholas songs -- as loud and pure and uncannily accurate as if it were Nicholas himself.

This is Normal?

I have no excuses, so I offer none.

Today promises temperatures that are not in the triple digit range, so I think I'll do some cooking for a change. Maybe a meatloaf or something. With real vegetables.

My book is finally published and out. It isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but when is something I write ever good enough? It's finished and I'm glad I wrote it. (You can order your very own copy by clicking here.)

The problem now is what to write next. I've been thinking about doing a book on how parrots change lives, but there are a lot of logistics to work out first.

The parrots in my life are, as usual, perfect. The Bobbsey Twins like to stand on the open door of their cage and just watch things. Or nap.  At least once a day one of them will become frightened of something real or imaginary, fly off and across the room, and land on top of the kitchen cabinets. This causes the other one to follow suit. Then come the contact and alarm calls (though they're standing next to one another) for me to come "rescue" them. Which I do and they fly back to their cage and stand on the open door.

Charli has developed some sort of obsession with her metal food bowl. I've used these bowls for years as well as small white bowls, but suddenly the metal bowl must be attacked, thrown around, and subdued. I've been trying to get it on video because it's so adorable how Charli hauls that bowl around, but once she sees the camera she drops the bowl and pretends everything is normal.

Right, like anything is normal in this household . . . .

Changes

The TV I bought a few years ago in order to receive whatever it is that changed and made our old televisions obsolete began developing problems a few weeks ago.  When I turned it on nothing would happen until I unplugged it, plugged it back in, and turned it on, and then waited.  And waited.  The waiting times grew longer and longer until I got fed up with it yesterday.

I took it to an appliance service store, only to find they don't work on this particular brand.  They assured me that the cost of diagnostics and any repairs would soon be more than buying a new television.

So, for less money than I paid for the first television with a DVD player, I bought a bigger TV and a blue-ray player.

What to do with the old one, I asked.  Oh, the clerk told me, people just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It makes me feel old.  I grew up accustomed to televisions that lasted a long time, clock radios that lasted a long time, appliances that could be repaired, even shoes that could be repaired.

Now we just throw 'em out.

Single Crochet, Double Crochet

When I was in the third grade my grandmother attempted to teach me how to crochet, but I couldn't comprehend how to hold the needle and pick up stitches and drop stitches and count rows. Later, after she died, I found dozens of exquisite lacy pieces of crochet in all manner of patterns and sizes.  She had told me that she had never been able to crochet more than the simplest pieces, so the antique pieces must have belonged to her mother or grandmother.

In my 20s I sewed a lot of my own clothes and even learned to knit and purl but I could never figure out how to end stitches or bind off.  In my 30s I crocheted a simple shawl that didn't require anything more complicated than single crochet stitches.

Tonight I took a beginner's class in crochet.  My fingers remembered the way to hold the needle and how to make the chain stitch after all these decades.  We learned the double stitch and the slip stitch tonight; next week we make a pair of fingerless gloves.

On the way to the class I stopped at a favorite restaurant for an early dinner, only to find the only parking spaces were the ones with those awful automatic parking meters a block away.  You have to walk a block, pay $1.00 an hour via credit card or cash, get a piece of paper, walk back to the car, and put the piece of paper on the dashboard.  Everyone detests these things, so naturally they're everywhere.

Just as I opened my wallet to pull out a dollar bill a man shouted at me from across the street.

"Have you put any money in yet?"

"No," I said.

The street was empty and a middle-aged man in jeans and glasses ran over to me.  "I've got a lot of time left on my ticket," he said.  "If you want it," he added.

"Wow," I said, "you've just made a bad day better."

His car was parked behind mine, and he was right.  There were 45 more minutes left on his parking slip.  I thanked him, he grinned, got into his car, and drove away.  Later I wondered if I should have offered him money, but I didn't think about it at the time.

Instead I think it was probably his random act of kindness for the day.  Paying it forward.

Absences

Since my last post I've been teaching, working on the book, and then taking the Parrot Lovers' Cruise.  When I returned from the cruise I immediately came down with a nasty case of bronchitis that's kept me basically homebound for a week. My mother had repeat surgery on her ear; this time it seems to have been successful -- we hope.  We should know for sure by next Monday.

Tonight I see that little Audrey has died, as well as Brian.  While I was sailing in the Caribbean, Bev's little cockatiel Dylan died, too. 

Ask not for whom the bells toll, Donne told us.  They toll for thee.

Indeed.

Paper Towels and Sentry Duty

Here is a video of Charli ripping up paper towels; her Most Favorite Activity of All Time.  Well, at least for now.

And another one.

She is extremely aggressive about paper lately.



The BobbseyTwins are wonderful, as usual.
Here they are performing Very Valuable Sentry Duty.


People who don't live with happy parrots have no idea what they're missing.

Favorite Toy (of the moment)

This is one of the toys Charli loves -- for the moment.  She's still learning that each one has an almond or two, maybe even a peanut hidden inside. 

The lid is connected to the box by a small, safe chewable bit of wood that keeps the lid from opening completely.  It opens just enough for the parrot to see goodies inside.  The parrot must then chew the safe cardboard to release the treats.  There are no glues or fasteners to worry about. Sometimes this takes hours, with much tossing the box around to get a better chewing surface.  Sometimes she can get the nuts out within a half hour.

She's always very proud of herself when the toy is completely ruined and the treats eaten all up.

Most all parrot owners know how important foraging is for our birds.  I really like this particular toy because it already has an almond or two in it, each one with a tiny hole in it to facilitate breaking open the shell.  There are lots of strands of safe color papers to tear off, and two wooden circles attached with thin suede strips.

This toy is made by Super Bird Creations and is called the Almond Foot Forager.  It is probably available wherever Super Bird Creations toys are sold.

Hoarding

No, I'm not a hoarder, but I frequently watch old reruns of the program on Netflix lest I become absent-minded and allow clutter to take over. 

I have true hoarders on both sides of my family -- my father's side seems to be the worst.  When he died I had to go through his old pick-up truck and an old trailer that was too cluttered to live in any longer.  Frequently he would buy huge lots of items at flea markets and bring them to me -- offerings, gifts.  Items I had no use for, couldn't sell, couldn't give away except to Goodwill.  Occasionally he would bring in some ancient rusted farm implement, despite the fact that I am a city girl, and insist it was useful and that "they" didn't make them any more.

I fight clutter in my life every day.  My dining room table is piled with books and bags of parrot treats, letters and pens.  My laptop is full of unorganized web bookmarks and unfiled e-mail, drafts of poems I'll never finish, drafts of articles and idea I mean to get to soon. My office right now is piled with items I'm putting in a big yard sale I'm having with three other friends later this month -- books, my old tiny refrigerator from my job, housewares I'll never use.

It isn't just physical either.  Emotional clutter is always happy to pop up from time to time -- old beliefs, old patterns of behavior, just waiting to bring havoc in my life.  But I have learned to practice good mental hygiene and can recognize when I need to slow down, get more rest, stand up to whatever belittling belief is threatening to overtake me.

I suppose everyone has a picture of their ideal life -- mine is a clean, clear, peaceful place to write, with everything in my life nice and organized.  For a variety of reasons it's taken me decades to finally have that place, so I don't worry too much if I have to move aside an errant notepad today or some coupons tomorrow. 

But I guess it will continue to be an everyday thing -- this eternal vigilance to keep all my spaces clear.  I'm glad I can do it.

Change

Last night the women's chorus I'm in finished its spring season with a fabulous concert; we've never sounded better.  Unfortunately, it was our director's last concert -- after 11 years he finally decided he wanted his Sunday evenings back.  Our new director is fine, but I don't think anyone will ever be as wonderful as John.

I'm relieved the chorus season is over though.  Those Sunday evening rehearsals are hard and learning the music is time-consuming.  I'll go back in September, of course, because I love it, but now I'm glad to have the extra time.  I'm getting things caught up and getting back on track with my book and other projects.

This morning I finally got my two Earth Boxes planted and set out on my new deck: beefsteak tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, a melon, peppers, roma bush beans, and some broccoli for the birdies.  All organic.  It's nice and hot outside, but we're expecting another big storm later today.  The transplants are droopy, but I'm counting on them perking up by tomorrow.  Next week I'll put up the staking system that comes with one of the boxes, so the beefsteak tomatoes have something to climb on.  I can use plain dowel rods for the other things that need staking.

I spent a few days in Arkansas last week with some people I'd met on the internet.  There were 11 of us, all parrot slaves.  It was nice, and I was glad to meet them in person.

My friend Bev lost one of her two cockatiels a couple of months ago; it was sudden and there was nothing she could have done.  It sounded like a seizure or stroke to me, but I'm not a vet.  Now her other cockatiel just returned home from three days in the hospital; kidney problems and some sort of infection.  She's taking good care of him, but I know how hard and heart-wringing it is to see such a wonderful creature sick.  I've got my fingers crossed for him and her, too.

My backyard is getting overrun with honeysuckle bushes; it's a never-ending battle.  Last week I asked the guy who cuts the grass if he'd come over and just dig the damn things up (as much as possible).  There's also a horrible spread of poison oak that's climbing up two of my trees and onto the side of the neighbor's house.  This morning I looked out the window and noticed that I didn't see any honeysuckle, and that the chair, table, and various pots had been moved next to the deck.  I tried to remember if I'd seen it that way yesterday or the day before, but I've been so busy I couldn't recall.  I wrote the guy to ask when he'd been over, and he said he hadn't (it's rained nearly every day the past two weeks).  So who's been over here, clearing out honeysuckle?  I have good neighbors, but I can't imagine them coming over to do such a thing, especially without me knowing.

Or maybe I'm hallucinating.  Considering all that's been going on this spring, it wouldn't surprise me.

The Carolina Parakeet

During my recent trip to the zoo I spent a lot of time in a little building that was dedicated to the Carolina Parakeet and to Martha, the last Passenger Pigeon.  The building also houses that beautiful Audubon picture of a flock of Carolina Parakeets (you can see that on the included Wikipedia page link), various news clippings about the demise of Martha, and some tasteful displays about extinction.

Martha

Martha died at the zoo in 1914.  Passenger pigeons were the most common birds in the US until we got rid of them.  Evidently, it took us awhile.


The Carolina Parakeet was the only parrot native to the US.  It was displaced and hunted to extinction in the early 1900s.  I knew about the species, of course, from my various readings, but I'd never imagined I would get to see a skin.

Near the back of the building was the exhibit for the parakeet, and it included a skin.  This picture is the best I could do in the dim light and through the display case.  I don't know what, if any, effect time has had on the feathers -- I'd always heard the species was brightly colored, but as you can see, the colors are more soft and pastel.

The Carolina Parakeet was the only parrot native to the US.  It was displaced and hunted to extinction in the early 1900s.  I knew about the species, of course, from my various readings, but I'd never imagined I would get to see a skin.  Here is the display.

Here is as clear a picture as I could get.

It was just heartbreaking to look at this.  Its beautiful feathers and colors, its compact size -- it wasn't much bigger than Charli.  I wonder what its sounds were like, if it would have been as crazy for almonds as the Bobbsey Twins are or as jealous as Charli is.

Somehow, if we ever learn to clone from DNA successfully, I suspect parrots will be at the bottom of the list.  Even one as beautiful as the Carolina Parakeet.

The Zoo

Yesterday I went to the zoo for the first time in several years.  I and some friends used to make a trip in early spring to either the zoo or the museum or botanical gardens, but we got out of the habit.  It's one of the better zoos in the nation, and we're lucky it's just an hour or so away.

Most of the exhibits were as I remembered, but they'd added a lorikeet exhibit and I spent some time there.  The staff person who was selling cups of nectar and seed sticks and I chatted about parrots for a few minutes.  A harried mom offered me two seed sticks and I bought some nectar.  I barely had a chance to give the woman money for the nectar before two or three lorikeets flew over to eat and drink.

I loved it, of course. One of the lorikeets casually landed on my shoulder as if she'd been trained.  Maybe she had.

Of course, they're all comfortable with people and squealing children, but I was surprised at how stubborn some of them were.  One of them was on a tree branch just above me.  I offered him the nectar cup, and after a slurp or two, he simply yanked it out of my hand, clamped it against the branch with one of his feet, and took his time taking the rest of the nectar.  A couple of times I gently tried to pry the paper cup away from him, but no way would he let go of it.

The staff woman said the zoo feeds the lorikeets all kinds of fruits and vegetables, that sometimes when she comes in the entire ground of their aviary is covered with lettuce and the lorikeets are going to town on it.  There were a couple of lorikeets who looked a bit plucked; the woman said they have had some bully problems.

I took a lot of pictures, which I'll post at future dates. 

With All Due Diligence

 

This is Charli, with her Most Favorite Toy in the Entire World -- a roll of adding machine tape.  She will chew and gnaw and rip at a roll of paper for hours and hours until she's filled up the entire corner of the cage.

It's a beautiful Saturday, bright sunlight.  After over a week of severe thunderstorms, tornadoes, and incessant rain, the sun is like a miracle.  I'm having my deck rebuilt, and the workers barely got the concrete poured for the posts when it began raining (again) last week.  Then, because it rained every day this past week there's been nothing but mud outside my door.   The sun came out yesterday long enough for them to return and get the foundation part done.  They assure the job will go quickly now.

My mom had surgery this week.  The tiny bones of her inner ear had calcified, which is supposed to be somewhat common, and has affected her hearing.  The surgery (which has 27 syllables and is unpronounceable) involves lifting the ear drum, removing the bones, and replacing the bones with plastic/metal "bones."  The surgery went well (all outpatient, two hours, with the magic of lasers), and we'll know next week how much it's helped.

I don't know about you, but I actually got up at four yesterday morning to watch the royal wedding -- what a difference from Diana and Charles' wedding.  Kate's dress was just perfect; I've always said that true elegance is simple, and that dress proved it.

Of course, my favorite of the entire group has always been Harry.  Watching him walk with William in the church I could easily imagine Harry being the one to "save" the kingdom in battle and in politics.  It makes me wonder again about the rumors of Harry being Diana's lover's son rather than Charles.

Well, I slept late this morning and made french toast for breakfast.  Which I naturally shared with my birds.  They're all taking naps now, after stuffing their little beaks.

Grooming Day -- the horror, the horror

I finally got myself organized enough to get the birdies to the vet for wing and nail trims.  The office wasn't busy, which was a relief since Nicholas tends to screech and call in a voice of about 200 decibels.  You can't imagine such noise coming from such a tiny creature, but you can hear him a block away.

Nicholas has a touch of separation anxiety, so if he cannot see Flash he will begin his ear-splitting calls.  This morning I held him while the vets groomed Flash, and Nicholas shrieked when the towel covered up Flash's little face.

Meanwhile, little Charli sat in her cage and watched the torturous events in silence.

I'm lucky that the vet techs are used to parrots.  In fact, it was this vet clinic that rescued little Nicholas and then gave him to me several years ago.  I must have been deaf at the time not to have noticed how loud he can be.

Soon enough the gruesome deeds were done and all the little birds were put back in their respective cages to eat Nutriberries and pout.  I put everyone in the car and headed home, but first I had to make another stop.

All winter I've been feeding the wild birds.  As you know, it's been a hard winter, and Wild Birds Unlimited actually ran out of safflower seed more than once.  But I made an effort to keep feeding them.

The last week or so I've noticed that the wild birds (I'm assuming doves) have been pooping all over my new car.  Not just a spot -- no, multiple long tracks of it on both front doors and mirrors.  Repeatedly.  As in people in traffic stop and point at my car.  There is a branch or two of a tree that hangs over the passenger side of the car, but by no means is it large enough or close enough to hold that many birds and there's no place for a bird to sit/stand on the driver's side of the driveway.

I've made two trips to the car wash already and since the wild birds had yet again decorated my car yesterday I decided to run it through the car wash again.  I bought some gas then selected the Express Carwash, then drove up to the little building and punched in the numbers.  I explained to the birds what we were going to do, but they were still pouting about the grooming.

The machines whirled to life and the big brushes began their descent, and the birds grew silent.  The water rushed over the windshield and car and then the foam and more brushes and more water.  They kept looking at me to be sure everything was all right then turned their attention back to the brushes and suds and water cascading everywhere.  I told them every step of what was happening and pretended they were actually listening.  I guess this is what living with parrots will eventually do to you.

When the car wash was done, I put the car in drive and homeward we went.  When I parked the car, I got out and made an announcement to the sky.  "Look," I said.  "I went to a lot of trouble to keep you guys fed this winter so please stop pooping all over my car, okay?"  No birds answered me, so I hauled out my parrots in their little travel cages and we all went inside -- where there are no evil vet techs with scissors and no big strange machines with gushing water.

I have to go out again this afternoon -- I'm kinda concerned about what I'll see . . . .

Overcoming Inertia

Forgive me, readers.  It's been several months since I updated my blog.  In that time I've had the living/dining/kitchen area and bedroom repainted, done major decluttering of closets, had a harmless growth removed from my leg, and am currently recovering from the annual round of springtime allergies that end up being sinus infections requiring lots of antibiotics and extra naps.

This picture is Nicholas, looking out from behind a sort of woven net of bagel bites and some kind of coarse fibers.  I took it a few days ago; I forgot to reset the date on the camera when I changed the battery.

The birds are wonderful.  They like me being home, except that I don't let them out as frequently and for as long as they think they should be out.  It's not really a problem with the Bobbsey Twins since they rarely stray from the open cage door, but Charli's another matter.

There are books in dire need of chewing, she has decided.  And it's so convenient to climb from my shoulder to the book case when I'm sitting on the couch.  We then go through several rounds of her climbing to the bookcase and me bringing her back to my shoulder.  Then she gets mad; her little eyes narrow and she becomes even more determined to get to the bookcase.  I bring her back to the coffee table and show her that her favorite sudoku book is available for chewing, but no . . . . it's the cookbooks in the bookcase she wants.

It's taken me several months, but I think I've finally gotten a healthy routine set out, which means I can get back to some serious writing.  I bought myself a Kindle and I've been reading a lot of books rather than listening to them from audible.com.  Writing an update is my way of starting to kick some inertia butt!

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).

Bobbsey Twins

Sometimes the boys come out of their cage and decide to trek across the living room floor.  I managed to get some of their latest trip on film.

O Happy Day!

I went to the Farmers' Market again this morning.  Among the haul was a nice stalk of broccoli, which Charli fell in love with as you can see (the broccoli is on a skewer).

 

Here, she's hanging upside down with her wings spread out a little bit.  She loves raw broccoli!

Later on I gave her some clean pea pods after shelling out the fresh peas.  She thought they were mighty tasty, too.

Then, miracle of miracles!  I dropped about 5 fresh organic blueberries in her food dish.  O Joy, Joy, Joy!

Yes, I gave goodies to the Bobbsey Twins, too, but they are most definitely not interested in anything edible unless it's seed or nuts, which I'm not providing today.  They'll just have to call the ASPCA and report me!

Now all the birds are taking naps.  It looks like rain, so I think I'll take a little nap, too.

Lazy Saturday

I managed to get up, get showered, and get out early this morning.  First, a quick trip to S's Bakery for doughnuts that make Krispy Kremes look and taste like lumps of lead.  They're only open a few days a week and on Saturdays; they're always sold out by 10 am.  They refuse to franchise.

Then my second trip of the season to the farmer's market.  The city finally built a nice pavillion (above) and the stands stretch around the entire block.  I got there about 7:45 so it wasn't crowded yet.  Today's purchases were fresh sugar snap peas, new potatoes, a cucumber, a heavy red tomato, two ears of corn, and a huge stalk of broccoli.  

The Bobbsey Twins and I like raw broccoli florettes; Charli likes the stalk.  So everyone got good stuff.

For supper I tried two new recipes from allrecipes.com for the sugar snap peas and roasted potatoes.  The birds were completely uninterested in either, possibly because neither had almonds involved.

For dessert I had a slice of french vanilla pound cake, topped with homemade vanilla ice cream and slices of fresh peach.

I've been trying to eat a little better -- I have no illusion I'll ever eat as well as they do over on Parrot Musings -- but more vegetables, less meat, less sugar and fat, and no HFCS.  One bite at a time.

The Gulf of Mexico continues to die.  Perhaps BP isn't working on a Saturday, especially a holiday weekend -- the oil spill cam doesn't look a bit different today than it did yesterday.   I'm being sarcastic, of course.  Beats screaming.

Storms in the morning and threats of storms the rest of the day.  Suited my mood perfectly.  

Here is a picture of a dying heron, caught in the oil from the oil slick in Louisiana.  

Here's a closer view.  Those  of you who have parrots probably recognize the pose.

To say that I'm sick to the very soul of what's happening in the Gulf of Mexico would be the understatement of the year. 

I try not to think about it, but of course it's everywhere.  I spend too much time on facebook, watching the updates come through and the angry blog entries appear. 

It's Friday of the Memorial Day weekend.   There's some odd movie on, The April Fools, with Jack Lemmon and Catherine Deneuve and Peter Lawford.  It was clearly created sometime in the 60s; it's been on for over 30 minutes and no one's ended up in bed yet.   

My three little birds are tucked away in their respective sleeping areas, cages covered and dark.  I've been spoiling them too much lately -- too many peanuts and Nutriberries, bits bagels made with white flour, organic corn chips.  On the one hand they should be spoiled and allowed to have whatever they like (except for chocolate, caffeine, alcohol, and avocado, of course); on the other hand, am I cutting their lives short by clogging their little arteries?

I'm going to make a big effort to get up early, early, early tomorrow morning for the farmer's market -- I like it when it first opens.  Everything is fresh and tempting, everyone is mostly awake and hopeful, before it gets too hot and humid and you have to squeeze between crowds of people to hand over money or put ears of corn in a bag.  Fresh potatoes and beans, lettuces, peppers, a cup of Marco's coffee made from his freshly roasted coffee beans, the heavy melons and soft peaches, ropes of garlic.  I always buy too much, but where else can I get local honey and free range eggs and cross-examine the farmer about his grain-fed roasts?

I want to start keeping my blog updated more regularly, too.   

My big plan for the weekend was to work on the book, but I've decided to let it go for a bit longer.  R and I are going to go to the movies and/or eat and/or plan a world takeover -- or something, just to get out of the house.  For the rest of it, I'll try to catch up on my favorite blogs and take several naps.  And not think about dying animals trapped in oil.

Derby Day 2010

Yes, I know it's been awhile.  Work, life, friends, family, strangers, and so on.

Today I finished the first draft of a book I've been working on.  A very bad draft, but finished all the same.  Now all I have to do is fill in details, get the style straightened out, polish the prose, make sure things flow in a logical order, and so on.  Another two or three drafts and I might actually have a real book worth reading.  No sweat!

In other areas, things are fine.  Work is quiet, for the most part.  I have a new therapist I like a lot who seems to know what he's doing, and that's helped a lot.

I received my first royalty check a few weeks ago.  A laughably small amount, but the amount doesn't matter.  I took a couple of pictures of it, in case I ever needed to remember.

The Plot Continues

This is little Flash, snoozing between bouts of scheming with Nicholas.  He has such a beautiful crest, and he's an awesome flier.  I adore him.


Things continue to be unhealthy at work, and I've got applications out everywhere I can.  Personal life is pretty stable; family members and friends all well. The weather here is nearly as bad as it is everywhere in the nation.  Spring cannot come quickly enough.


All my parrots are spoiled and continuing their work on the Great Parrot Takeover.  I no longer pretend I'm anything but a pawn and almond provider in their diabolical plans.

In this picture Nicholas and Flash eye me warily.  Evidently I interrupted some sort of planning session.


I've told all my non-parrot-owning friends to begin the search for me if they don't hear from me for a certain amount of time.  Just in case.

Serious Snow & Safflower Seeds

We've had our second serious snow last night; maybe three inches.  Shallow enough to drive if I had an emergency, but deep enough to stay home with no guilt.

Here's a video of several birds feasting at my bird feeder.  Dozens more birds visited earlier today, so there's not much left for these.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76bOdRzHBCI

So I slept late, took videos, listened to NPR, had a leisurely breakfast, and plan to spend the rest of the day fooling around on the Mac and doing nothing productive.

 

I have a family of cardinals in residence in my backyard.  Here the male helps himself to seed I put out on the rail yesterday.  About an hour later, his mate came over to stuff herself.

The Most Beautiful Green Bird in the World

I ordered some stuff from ParrotNutz.com and they arrived today.

I gave everyone a single Plopz treat to see how they would like them. The Bobbsey Twins ignored theirs, of course, but Charli was brave and tried it. This picture is of her after downing a bite and before delicately selecting another bite. (I'd crumbled it up before putting it in her bowl.)

Her feathers are so beautiful I just had to post this picture. I got some more pictures of her eating, but this one shows off her colors the best. I've never found a way to adequately photograph the brilliance and iridescence of her green feathers -- they literally glow.

The cockatiels are also in fine feather; their feathers are so soft it's almost like stroking a cloud, but I can't photograph that.

Parrots are the most amazing creatures I've ever experienced -- people are fascinating, of course, but parrots are a continual source of wonder for me.