Beer Notes From October 1st - Shhhhhhh....

A rainy Saturday morning. My favorite part of the weekend because it’s still an entire weekend in wait. The honey is downstairs making us french toast. His is really good. I can attest to that especially because I am not a fan of french toast. What I’m impressed with especially is that yesterday he went to our local grocery store and went looking for the uncut fresh bread loaves. They were out so he asked that one be ready for today. And it actually was when we went in this morning.

All at once as we were lying in bed was the cacophony of sound througout the house - the dog scraping up the couch cushions, trying to get comfortable, the Tweenaling desperately trying to coax a note out of the newly brought home flute, and the phone ringing all at once. If you’ve been following this blog at all, I think I’ve made clear many times my need for some silence. So I decided that it must be a reminder to me to be absolutely !ecstatic! that I have decent hearing.

Now I sort of write this part as a warning in the early part of the day and hope that it amounts to nothing. My honey seems to feel Not Heard. Today is his day to feel Unheard. And we all feel bad when we think not that no one hears us, but no one wants to listen. It’s not that I don’t ever want to listen. Just sometimes I want to hear what I’m thinking. I’ll admit that it takes effort for me to have even a borderline proper amount of listening skills. Many times I feel that my thoughts are completely overriding anyone who is speaking. Is that because I am selfish? Or is it because so often I have to pay attention to much outside of me, that Me fights back?

...Later on for Beer Time...

At this moment, I enjoy a mug of nice cold Eridinger beer. I’m enjoying a friendly spar of politcal cartoons on Facebook with people that I actually like despite the moat between our politics. I tell the honey about a new picture that I see of President Obama dressed as Urkel saying “Did I do that?” about the economy and he merely says “Mm.” That’s the sign of Not Listening. That’s the Winner and runner up to I’m watching a game, please stop engaging.

So I pour the very last beer into my mug. I’ve read the Wind and the Willows tonight to my Tweenaling…not because she requested it but because she somehow owns it. Must be due to one of those deliriums that Iexpereinced during a local booksale. I will usually snatch up everything in sight….especially if it reeks of Summer Reading List or Classic.

This is one of those beers that reminds me of the alcohol level of things that I don’t drink much anymore. As I exhale through my nose, I smell that strong alcohol smell, like when doing shots during a chess game. And for now, that’s a good thing.

I’ve just rescued what might be a 2nd fruit fly from my beer. But for all I know it was the same fruit fly who happens to enjoy a good German Hefe Weise beer. The silent 3rd one may have really been an herb from our garlic bread earlier. Or at least I hope so, otherwise I sawed one in half with my fingernail trying to determine what it truly was.

The Blah Ditty Blah Blahs

This was my weather for yesterday during the wonderful foggy morning. I lightened up considerably by the afternoon, but if I didn't allow a clean window for anyone to look through, I'd be hiding. As our situation is that I am the one who runs out the door to a structured job, it does at times feel as though I am putting in so much of myself that I find my Soul Pockets empty at times during the day. That's when I start getting crabby and wishing that Borders would resurrect itself and burst out of the ground, cafe holding a coffee for me.

I do understand that my mate is "sick". Not falling over, hanky dangling from Woe Is Me hand position on forehead "sick - but basic always has something hurting or bothering him sick. He does 850 pushups four times a week. He carries the firewood in. You wouldn't know at all to look at him that there is a carnival of hurt going on. However, his focus is mainly on his symptoms, which are like a game of Whack A Mole. I think at times he overthinks them. That's not to say that they aren't there. I believe they are. But the focus is heavy. I hear probably more than 20 times a day what is hurting or what pain just shot through where. That I don't mind...it's good for someone to know. But when Tweenaling has a sudden pain somewhere and an Ow escapes her lips, he is quick to tell her she is being dramatic. This I don't understand from someone who is quietly saying Ow all day long.

So yesterday as I wrote the words below, I was ruminating through that garden of What I Can't Do. That burdensome notion of not being able to spontaneously buy a pumpkin for Tweenaling or a new outfit for her as she is growing like an Rgbh study subject! Sometimes I wonder how it change and feel sad for her as she constantly draws up new Christmas lists. I digress. This is yesterday's blog so I need to kick myself out and take my coffee to This Day.

Having a severe case of the Must Be Nice’s.

We chilled out last night, watching Part 1 of the Prohibition special by Ken Burns. We had bourbon and beer and a roaring fire in the fireplace. I dressed up in my 1920s garb complete with necklaces. The honey said that I looked pretty…so of course after a pile of hint dropping, I figured that after the show we’d get a little friendly.

(Insert Family Feud buzzer sound that signifies the Incorrect Answer!)

Ah, twas not to be. I can be as pretty as I want. The fact is, there were other things out that topped me in the Encticing category. Including football. Sigh. I guess that’s just a piece of life that my ego needs to skip past….sometimes despite best intentions, something else IS more riveting than me. Even THAT. Perhaps he didn’t have that on his mind to begin with and wasn’t even thinking about it as I was at the beginning of the evening.

For now, he is home, resting, watching tv, doing whatever. I am having No Job Envy at the moment. I know he is having a special day of sorts. Today is the anniversary of a very sad death in his family. But he would have spent his day this way regardless. It’s tough to barge out the door trying to get to There on time and then hear the relaxing yawn of *oh….I’m so tired. I took a nap but I’m still tired.*

Naps are not an option in this cubicle. So I windowshop in Haterville and try hard not to go in and buy anything.

When I got ready this morning I noticed that my face had another breakout from yet more foods that I should not be eating. I band-aid that much of the time with good foundation. However, the truth is right there staring at me when I wake up. I look like hell. And I guess lately I am feeling like it as in the sense of a good provider to her child. I make good money. But supporting a three person household on it is like a failing magic trick. The Tweenaling only grows up once. I become down when I think that she is not experiencing as much as she could be. Ah, parental guilt....the biological reason for that urge for action and change!

Beautiful foggy October Morning

I was lucky to have accidentally slightly startle a blue heron on my way back to my car. He was graceful and seemed to fly with a beautiful sturdiness. He was so close during these photos - had I any idea how long I would get to see him for I would have snapped his handsome mug as well! Once in my car and driving from the lake I looked over and he was flying over the water, parallel to my car. Nature sometimes has a way of giving you extra when the camera is off.

October 2nd

A chestnut cover already discovered by a hungry and resourceful fella....





The last of the beets from the garden...

The swamp during our walk today...

A lone leaf floating in the reflecting trees of the swamp...

A fitted birch sleeve, awaiting the proper wearer...

And just another beautiful byproduct of Autumn....

Colonocopies to Fruit Flies

Writ on September 27th...

Ah. Keyboard buttons….my group of symbols to communicate gracefully or sloppily. Furiously or poetically. I miss writing. I really haven’t been doing enough of it lately. I think about it though. When I walk the neighborhood in the quiet dusk every evening, phrases dance together and intertwine, becoming sentences. Many times though, when I walk back into my house, with the frenetic energy of Times Square, the phrases let go of each other’s hands and scatter. Poof! Gone.

I should be working right now. I have the most valid hallpass through for why I’m not. Our internet is currently down. Again. This happens just about every day lately. I could catch up on some reading...I am of the personality to have a small stack of kindling that requires my reading it first before lighting it afire. The pressure of knowing the exact moment that our internet will kick back on and I can work again is slightly more than average. I need to check in with my cube peeps as soon as I can via email, having already sheepishly dialed my boss from my pre-paid cell phone.

I wonder why it is that when I sit down to write, my ideas have gone into an active game of Hide and Seek. They know that I am too lazy to seek them and like putting chilli in the toy box, it eventually rots, unfound. And yes, I’ve done that. When I was little I put chilli in my toy box and upon opening it much later found two (very large) bugs where the food was. I remember thinking that kidney beans transform into bugs and didn’t really ever eat chilli again. Although I do like kidney beans!

My mate is getting ready for another colonoscopy and is at the end of his patience level. He was doing rather well until having to call Comcast this morning. Now we sit in a cloud of him feeling bad that I’m not working because I’m driving him and am home instead of being in the office and me feeling bad that I asked him to call Comcast and see if they could just push that button that they always hit when they bring our stuff back on. They couldn’t this time so I managed to at least get Word open on my laptop.

I brought Tweenaling out this morning to the end of the driveway in my car to wait for the bus. I never let her just stand there. Too many news stories, too many attacks of the imagination for me to be ok with it. I realize that mine and my friend’s parents never coddled us so much. My mom had me driving my bike across town to park it at my friend’s house, then hop on the bus at her place. I was out of district and as long as I could get myself there, I could continue to go to school there. I was only 14.

I couldn’t imagine allowing this now. So we sit and wait at the end of the driveway, watching the sun change hues against the landscape, moment by moment. I rolled the window down today and called out the window “HELLO CROW!”. Within a minute, one of my winged friends came zooming in to land expectantly in a tree in front of us. They are always rewarded. I hopped out of the car, baggie of peanuts in hand and after some morning salutations, put down some goodies for him. As I was walking back to the car, he called to his clan. “HURRY THE HELL UP! PEANUTS, Y’ALL!!! WE HAVE PEANUTS! WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU GUYS THIS MORNING???!”

Or something like that.

Then we flipped back to the Vogue magazine that I keep in the car. We look through the photos together, me pointing out compliments to all the eye goodies. The sunglasses that would look good on Tweenaling, the guy wearing a long, gray skirt, pretty dresses. And of course, try to let her know that the purses she sees in here….they’re all untouchable. Why on earth would someone pay that much for a purse? I’d need a protective bag to put that purse IN so that it wouldn’t touch bathroom floors or the floor of anywhere.
*
The other day I’d noticed that there were little fruit flies inside of the bag of bread we had sitting out. There was some condensation and the bag next to it had no flies and was dry. I could swear they were bought at the same time but the mate says they were not. (I still think they were because bread molds fast around here and neither were moldy). I wondered how the flies got inside the bag. And why. They are usually all over the fruit. Why in the bread bag?
And because I can’t just throw stuff out…and obviously the mate can’t either because we both knew they were there, we waited. I did open the bag a couple of times to try and set some self-sacrificial flies free, but was not 100% successful. We waited. Eventually the timer went off – DING! MOLD! Finally! Mold means I can throw it out now. It is officially bad. The declaration of We Won’t Be Eating This For Sure has arrived. Only now I couldn’t just throw it out with the twistie tie on it. I opened the bag and placed it at the topmost part of the garbage. I gave enough space for anything to fly out. I felt better about this as whenever I’d throw something out, flies would fly out of the garbage when the top was lifted. I can’t kill things. I think it is this: if I left the bag tied, I would have sent those fruit flies to certain death. They would die in an evermoistening plastic bag in a bigger plastic garbage bag and eventually would just be within two bags, unceremoniously dead, in a dump.

However….if I open the bag, giving them the chance to try and make a change of what Seemed To Be, then the outcome is at the most, unknown. I did not knowingly trap them anymore. By opening the bag, wide and seeing them fly out of the garbage, I felt better knowing that while I didn’t know what would happen to them now, their fate was not necessarily going to be what I saw when the moldy bread went into the garbage bag.

I think too much.

But it’s a horrible waste of my conscience to mull over these things when I can do the easy thing and give the living a chance to find their intuitive way to survive.
Or maybe I could just be like other ‘normal’ people and not give it any thought at all. Just throw the bag out. No waste of the conscience budget on that one.

Images of October 1st

The very last of the tomatoes...



My Azrael doing her best to be a storm cloud in the wind....

Simplicity in black and white

The beauty of autumn flowers!

Happy October 1st!

Change of the Same Plans

My cat kept assembling and re-assembling herself on top of me this morning at an early hour. Tail swooshing by the mouth (huge Eww factor), delicately but firming placing cool little paws on my face to get my attention. The animals in this house do not allow for late sleep.

The starling is such a sleek and gorgeous black bird, I am noticing as the morning sun hits him just right. The animal kingdom scatters such beautiful eyes in various species.

Ah peace, I hardly knew ye. As I write, M. HH (he can resort to being Monsieur Honey instead of Monsieur Hee Haw, aka Ass when things are different) is starting with me first thing. He is not very good at remaining silent for long. There is usually quite the long diatribe and monologue that occurs when he convinces himself that he has been slighted. And if that isn’t good enough, he’ll harass so much that a person will react, giving him new ammo to enjoy teeing off on. I’m not very good with having my space invaded…that includes the space in my head. When I need distance and a person insists on crowding it whenever and wherever they can, ignoring my pleas to just give me some time, the Pollyanna braids unwind and a cornered animal will bite eventually.

I had to leave with Miss Humanling and head out for a bit. We had breakfast at a small café. Humanling rather adores the restroom there. She has a thing for restrooms and likes to try them all out, reporting back to me the décor in one or the music played in another. We then hit up the library to use the computers since mine was home, SIGH, with M. HH. We did not use their bathroom this time. Then we were off to get coffee with a girl that I’d been meaning to have coffee with (or some sort of beverage) for nearly a year. Only M. HH got in the way because he felt I was up to no good. So we walked in town, had our iced coffee and eventually she walked me to a deli that I hadn’t yet tried. I ordered a nice mozzarella sandwich but didn’t realize they’d heat it. I have to say, now that I’ve had the not melted fresh mozzarella, I really am not interested much in the hot kind. It’s too chewy and sort of has this choking effect on me, like if I try to swallow it, it won’t quite go down nicely.

I was able to chose out a book for my father today, a nature book of some kind….ah, yes, here it is… Summer World by Bernd Heinrich. My dad seems to love nature. I really like giving him books that he likes. We aren’t very close but I do enjoy picking out books for him.
Just now searching for that link, I think of buying something from Amazon. Must Control Myself. I need to do this trip to Arizona in August and also must purchase a baby shower gift for my wee little Wolfie grandson.

Unfortunately I had to come home and he can’t bear silence so the barrage of my wrong doings were surrounding me in everything he could think to say. Finally when I answer, he runs out the door screaming, which means that the grand standing has occurred for our poor landlord who comes here on weekends to escape this sort of thing from NYC.

We are supposed to have family over tomorrow, yet he called my parents and my therapist and his friends and probably his mom and the landlord to make sure he gets his victim side in so that he can hit everyone up before me….which is silly because I did not call anyone. I came home to an email from my therapist to please let her know I’m ok, which is very nice of her. No, I’m not ok. I am going insane because I am being badgered and emotionally and verbally beat up by someone who doesn’t have a pause button. And it’s been going on for 4 days now. I don’t have patience for this.

So Humanling and I left the house to buy tomorrow’s menu for guests. Poor Humanling has been tired and unwell the past few days on top of it. Dragging her around is so unfair. But there is no peace to be had here. She cannot lie down and rest with him not letting things be.
So I’ve decided since he isn’t being a help for me for tomorrow, that I had to prepare a menu. He was going to do the cooking. As it stands now, I’ve had to throw something together. I am a longtime vegetarian and my family is not. So I have bought two already prepared and cooked on the spit chickens for legs and wings. Some of those round wraps in order to make quesadillas on with horseradish cheddar on one and sharp cheddar with sautéed shallots and pieces of white chicken meat on the other, devilled eggs, those delish refrigerated pickles, fresh strawberries from the garden, along with blueberries that I bought today, corn on the cob, and a few wonderful chocolate cakes, a cholesterol driving lemon cake and potato chips. I think I’ll do ok.
Tonight I must clean those guinea pig cages so the Pigphonic Symphony does not stink tomorrow for guests. M. HH decided to let the bathroom stink and go to hell for months (he has more home time than me since he isn’t currently employed so I think it is fair for him to deal with that). That one I will have to explain to the family. Sorry Fam.

Eventually poor Humanling needed to rest. I am rather worried about her. Perhaps all the fighting is really exhausting her.

Eventually M. HH left and I decided to see my Mr. Crows since I hadn’t visited with them yet today and firmly believe in animal habits. I can’t go a day without seeing them unless necessary. So when I go to Arizona, I will miss them. They were omni-present today, three of them showing up in one of their posts. I took photos and fed them. I also took more photos of the mockingbird flipping out on them for existing in the same neighborhood. As I stared and watched their behavior, M. HH showed up in his car with his dog and said things….I couldn’t really hear him, he mumbles to begin with and both of our voices are shot at this point. He mentioned that he saw one Mr. Crow take a peanut and fly away. That is nice that he told me. I do see that however because they usually swoop down right after I take a few steps away. I guess he doesn’t know the routine as well. He pulled up as I was watching Mr. Crow being dive-bombed by two mockingbirds. Mr. Crow followed for a bit around the block and I was fairly certain that I was never going to finish the page in the book that I was reading on this walk. For the walk I am reading A Pig In Provence. The library’s copy of As Always, Julia, might not withstand the juggling of the peanuts, camera and fact that I will use anything as a bookmark, including an abandoned arm, it were available.

But being interrupted by the soft swoop of Mr. Crow landing in a tree to say to me, “HEY! May I have some more of that treat that you have there just for me? “ is worth it. I think I detect behavior, and I’m not sure, that is leading others in his family to the food. For instance, he will show up, I will feed and immediately he will show up shortly when he couldn’t have finished what I already gave him. Then I will notice that he is allowing another member of his gang to have it and is coming to me for his own. Other times I have seen them beat each other up slightly for dibs. One of those Mr. Crows certainly feels pretty daring as far as proximity to me goes. He will come down to the ground fairly close to me. Eventually I will test him and see if I can get him to come even closer but for now, this is good. And they have given me opportunities for wonderful photos.

Well, now that I’ve enjoyed my dinner of fruits, cheese slices with oil, pepper and salt along with a nice piece of bread, I suppose I shall roll up my imaginary sleeves and do the Shit Shuffle on those cages.

Enjoy Mr. Crow, standing so handsomely with his beak open, about to eat his vittles.

#WhyAmIStillHere?

Today has been a back breaker for me. I’ve spent any time at home in Humanling’s room, squashed next to her on the bed, reading.

She did have a field trip scheduled today but woke up with her belly feeling Non Field Trippish. So as a good mom will, I had her rest in bed and try to feel better. I then called the school so that after all the back and forth that has gone on between me and the school over the last month wouldn’t result in a giant glittering question mark. I was to pick her up earlier than the trip ended, 2 hours away, because I figured she’d fall asleep on the way back and was prone to a seizure on stage for all of the sixth grade to have burned in their memories. I opted to pick her up early once they shunned off my requests to actually go on the trip.

I figured that I’d go to the store to get the tummy supplies…the crackers, the clear soda, things of the like to help her be comfortable. When I got home, I walked into her room and she burst into tears saying that Monsieur Hee Haw, the artist formerly known as Monsieur Honey, had yelled at her. Why he was reprimanding her for something from last night once I was out of the house is a mystery to me. Where’s Janet Jackson when you need her? Cuz I’m hearing “Con-trooooolllll”.

I merely went up and looked at him, waiting for the explanation. It wasn’t a good enough one so the Event that lead up to my inability to sing “I throw my hands up in the air sometimes…singing AAAAAA-YO, gotta Leeeeeet Go” commenced. Yes, I blame M. HH on why my voice sounds like Kathleen Turner with a cold.

Poor Humanling…no rest at home. I piled her into the car along with a number of older newspaper sections from the New York Times that I keep meaning to read, along with Year in Provence. She brought her own bag of stuff. We eventually parked outside of the library….at 8am. The library doesn’t actually open until 10am. I thought this to be quite the challenge but we had enough reading material, crackers, sprite and my very own gluten free biscuit from the café downtown , to keep us happy. I read. Quite a bit. Humanling played her DSi and also shared some of the finer chapters of Girl’s Book of How To Be the Best At Everything. Like freaking people out in the elevator. Stuff that would get me committed at this age.

We watched a short bus pull up with a pile of what looked like pre-school kids and they all lined up and went into the library. EARLY. Wha?? We watched with Admission Envy and felt like the velvet ropes were actually a moat. Ok, no big. They can’t really even read yet so how long will they really be in there? Plus, I had to pee. And the thought of all those little inexperienced bladders made me realize that I might end up doing the Pee Dance.

A little later on, ANOTHER line of little ones shows up. WTH?? The bathroom was shrinking in the distance. The first group came out and now at this time, we passed the two hour test of sitting in the car for 2 hours and could enter as well.

The weird thing about the positioning of the bathroom is that it is directly behind a row of computers. So if you happened to want to go into the bathroom to let out a lil old biscuit of air in order to be Pure Air Compliant, it wouldn’t matter…someone would hear it. And God forbid someone stinks it up…as soon as the door opens, the computers will crisp and the users will asphyxiate.

I always tell myself that I won’t stock up on books….I have enough to read here at home. But I couldn’t help myself! I picked up As Always, Julia: The Letters ofJulia Child and Avis DeVoto. While I’m on the French reading, it seemed appropriate. I also picked up Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. It was a gift to me about two decades ago from an ex-boyfriend’s mother. I was enamored with her. Well, either that or he got it for me but the story sounds better if she did. It meant a lot to me then and to this day I can’t remember a word of it. So will be re-experiencing that at a different phase of life. I picked up one pretty old book, written I believe in the 1940s on Crows, Ravens, Jays, etc. I love old books. Plus just want to see what they knew back then about my Mr. Crows.

So the other night I mentioned that I had crabs. I was wrong. I had crab. One had died and I wasn’t really sure if he was just staying still or not until the next morning when I saw that he hadn’t moved and now his claws had been removed. Apparently the other crab was a little stressed out about this. The body and shell were taken away and today I thought we should get him a little friend as they enjoy being in a pack. Unfortunately, I was really getting a friend to keep another corpse company. That one also gave up. I’m guessing that it had the same affliction as Jerry Garcia…as soon as stuff gets cleaned up, the body gives out. We will need to pick up a couple more as soon as we can. Meanwhile I have tried to console the little dude with a piece of grape.

Eventually we came home and I found a nasty, paranoid and really whackadoodle type note asking me basically, SO – who was it that I called at 6:30am at X number? And why did I run out to the store so early? Was I picking up a stash of minutes for my defunct cell phone??

First off, I wasn’t even out of bed at 6:30am. And he was in the same room as me so let’s change it to Dipshit Status, shall we? Second of all, I made Une phone call – after 7am – to the nurse’s office at the school. The number he was waving in the air like the Flag of Opposition Defeat and all that is Ah-HA, was out of state and I don’t believe anyone was using the phone at that time. So the real question here is - why am I being checked up on? It’s easy to check an INCOMING number. Checking the outgoing is different. He “claims” he was looking for a number to call which I don’t buy because he is self professed at being amazingly good at remembering digits, which I am a witness to. So we must conclude, Bull and Shit.

I will say, I was a bit incensed over this. Really? Gotta root around for a problem that doesn’t even exist? I was out buying groceries for a sick kid. Why do I have to defend myself? I’d rather say nothing and allow him to stew in it than have to report what I was doing. I know where I was and who I called and when.

We agreed in the past that there would not be any Facebook posting or friend calling to boo effing hoo to when the fan splatters it all over the place. I kept my end of the deal. I am blogging, true. But I’m not put up the status or calling my friends or my mother. I am alone in this. I tried to go to sleep last night and he wouldn’t stop harassing me and at the end of it was “Did you post anything on Facebook?” and when I wouldn’t satisfy his curiosity, he had to ask again. So I did have to answer to that one to get some sleep.

I did get to take a one mile walk today…very lame since I usually do two. But I didn’t trust that if I left Humanling for long in her room that M. HH wouldn’t prey on the weak and find a reason to yell at her again. I did see Mr. Crows….the main one found me on an off road where we usually do not meet. I heard the rustling in a nearby tree and of course, offered him his daily vittles. Then he followed me to the parallel street and gave me a soft ‘caw’ as he flew over me to the next tree. Smart Mr. Crow, I say to him. He sure is a cutie and brightens my day. When I think to myself, gee, if I move away from here, what will I miss? I will Miss Mr. Crows. All of them, but that one especially. So I’d have to drive up here daily and just feed them and go. More time can be spent on the weekends.

I’d miss tons of stuff but since I’m still pissed about being told a bunch of demeaning things about my mothering, about myself and about my role in the fault, I am not feeling nostalgic for M. HH. Especially because he snoops. He snooped again today. Went under my laptop to pull out notes that I wrote to myself. Yes, to myself. Because I had agreed not to go to my friends or mom or facebook with our issues. So who can I tell? I was chastised for my own notes to me, saying they were lies and was I saving it for the therapist? Who’s business is that? And why am I being checked up on?

I decided while I was out to get my favoritist sandwich ever at a local mom and pop deli. A fresh mozzarella (they make it there) on a soft roll with fresh basil, oil and balsamic vinegrette. A delight! I decided to buy HIM the sandwich that he usually gets….rather expensive gift to get someone when they are turning important situations that involve your children into something about them because they can’t bear not to be in the spotlight.

When I got in the door and came up the stairs, Humanling in tow, M.HH was on the phone and stated that he would like privacy and space and that Humanling was not allowed upstairs right now or to be in the same room with him. So after declaring war on her with the wrappers the other day, now he is saying that she HAS to eat in her room. Hypocrite for Hire. So I tossed his sandwich onto the couch next to him and went downstairs to begin the rest of my day hanging out in the kid’s bedroom.

Humanling and I enjoyed a wonderful dinner in her room though. Fresh grapes and raspberries along with fresh bread from the bakery with oil to mop up (salt and peppered) and thin slices of the Irish cheddar cheese, sprinkled with oil. Ok, it's me so 'sprinkle' isn't accurate. Smothered is more like it.

He is relentless. Now I know why my therapist gives me titles to books on all the other abuses that are not physical. He pushes and pushes until I hit a breaking point. Psychological warfare when he isn’t getting his way. It’s disgusting. What will I do about it? Probably nothing. I need to make my way to AZ in August and the money that I have saved to see my gorgeous daughter and new grandbaby cannot be used to move out and get away from his silliness.
But let’s enjoy that handsome dude with the polite ‘caw’. At least he’s a family guy.

S...Z....the Ear Does Not Spell

We’ve been trying to get one of our co-workers off to the dentist for awhile now. he’s been reminded, another co-worker offered to call and make the appointment for him and yet he seemed to have this aversion to going, even though I heard him say Quote – My teeth are trippin’ Unquote.

I put up the above photo on my desk top today. Isn’t that a beaut?? That one of the Mr. Crows – the one most comfortable with my presence. When I stepped out of the driveway yesterday, two of them came swooping down the road toward me and landed nicely in the tree. The comfier of the Mr. Crows boinked down to a branch closer to me and allowed me that beautiful picture. So of course, I fed them. And even if he had stuck his tongue out or turned his tail toward the camera, I’d have fed them anyway.

One of my friends today noted (truthfully) that if I wasn’t feeding them, they’d have no interest in me. C’est vrai! I know this! But we don’t speak each other’s language so the only way to get to know Mr. Crows is to feed them. THAT, they understand. It’s a friendly gesture and how else will they learn to trust me? If I just shout at them without a baggie full o’ vittles, “Come on down! The water’s fine!” they might remember me as the person who lives with that other person who owns the barking orange thing that likes to kill animals and birds. So the common language of food it has become. And in turn, I get to learn more about how their thinking works and snap a few great photos.

And because of the Great Cheeto Debacle the other night, I did find online something that notes the term Cheese doodles (yes I see the spelling is off but I was speaking the words not spelling them and it sounds the same. No one says Cheessssse doodles. Who emphasizes an S? Phonetically it turns out to be a Z.)
Peruse below:

Cheez Doodles®
Wise Cheez Doodles® are the honest-to-goodness originals…the genuine puffed or crunchy snacks that are a hit wherever they’re served. Kids love Doodles, but you’ll never outgrow that great cheesy taste.

Ok so I can clearly recognize that the term covers both puffy AND crunchy, yes? Yes. So the nitpicky fight over the technical jargon for this messy orange snack does not really matter, n’est ce pas?

Of course I can’t just email this home because Monsieur Honey will take it to believe that I hate him and that I’m trying to cause a fight. I would merely consider this a Ha ha.

And I was wrong…I wasn’t drinking ants. But I was drinking ant brains. I’m not even sure if they have brains but clearly I accidentally decapitated the dead ant the other day when I removed the body with a fork from the honey jar. Why I didn’t see this at the time is beyond me but I highly doubt that someone would throw just the head in there for spite. ……or WOULD they? So this morning in my rush out the door I had to first remove the ant head with two antennae before I could pour it in my coffee. With all of my neurotic issues you’d think this would top it but I must admit that my heart doesn’t even speed up the slightest of nanoseconds when I think about it.

Blame it on the Cheetos

I had a dream this morning. I was on a boat, the kind with a roof and a board meeting room. The host was a black gay congressman with gray hair at the temples, a really fat white psychic who had a smaller head but huge hair like That Girl and was wearing a blue and purple mumu-ish thing, only better fabric (not acquired in the walmart mumu section).

There happened to be a baby on my lap of about 6 months. He had really light blonde hair and blue eyes. The waves started coming and a big one rocked the boat pretty hard so I asked the Honey…"can you swim with a baby?"

He said yes.

So I said "Good, because I can’t."

Then we were touring the bottom of the boat and I was still toting around this baby. I looked at Honey and said “I don’t remember being pregnant. How did that happen?”

“You ate those leaves for breakfast”, he replied.

“Oh”. And then I said...

“I don’t remember giving birth”

Honey gave no answer, just a grin.

Then he had the baby and sort of tossed it down in a chair and it was like a doll suddenly and it’s head went back, mouth open and it wasn’t hurt but I gasped really loud and pointed so he quickly fixed it upright.

Before I went to bed last night I had a slight querelle regarding Cheese doodles. C'est vrai.

I mentioned something about the deliciously unhealthy cheese snack that I was shoveling into my mouth from the bag. I called it 'cheese doodles'. I was corrected because that's how Honey is. He can't miss a single Correction Train. So he said, "cheese doodles?" So I verified that yes, I am eating cheese doodles. He informed me that cheese doodles are the puffy things, NOT the crunchy things that I had.

I asked if he really needed to correct that. He went on further to say that I shouldn't be so sensitive and that by me saying that, I was trying to change him because I am uncomfortable with what he says. I said that I didn't enjoy constant unsolicited corrections and isn't that trying to change someone? And furthermore....did he really not know that the things that I was referring to in the conversation were the things that I was eating and not something else? Did it really need correcting? Did he realllllllly not know what I meant?

Hmmm.....

Then comes silence, Steven Colbert and a strange dream with waves.

Wanted: Stunt Ass

I am swigging down the last of my (very) cold coffee. However, since we are beyond broke this week, it would be a complete disservice not to finish my French pressed Starbucks French Roast from home.

So something came up this morning that they really don’t have insurance for. I was walking from the cafeteria with a slightly older and well, how do you say it without being rude, she probably eats a tiny bit more than me as well. She’s joking around saying that if I make this certain mistake with an important part of our work that she’ll kick my ass. So I had to make a decision. I decided that I need a Stand-In Ass to take my place since I really am too busy crunching the numbers here to take a moment for a good ass walloping. Besides, Honey is the only one authorized to be touching my derriere, with love or with mock kicking *(real kicking would result in my very real temper waking up from a nap).

So we walked into our work area and the first person I saw was a young, early 20s boy named Ajay. I strode up to him. “You will be the Substitute Ass”. He looked scared and confused. I told him that in the event that my ass needs to be kicked, his is younger. He smiled and added, “I’ve been working it out, too!”

My Cupcakes are Just Fine As Is, Thanks

Naturally on today’s walk there was the scenery that I usually see daily, only today it looked extra photogenic! So I took out my camera, (always ALWAYS on my person) and shot. Only to have a message from the camera saying that it could not record this photo. Argh. I left the memory card in the computer when I uploaded photos earlier. The sky was a deep “roll up your car windows” sort of beautiful rare gray. Add to that description, Unrecordable. Suddenly everything was having a good hair day. The barns, the fences, entrails and dirt. Ok not really on the entrails. I was half expecting Mr. Crow to show up in a sequined vest, smiling to show me his gold tooth since I was sans camera.

Speaking of the entrails, we did cross paths. I wonder if it hates the smell of live humans as much as we hate the smell of exposed guts. I crossed the road once the wall of stench poked itself intrusively up my nose. After crossing, there was that small moment of caution where you breathe in ultra-light…just in case you didn’t move far enough. Once down the road however, a truck blazed by so fast that the wind it created dragged the death with it and the smell was back for a Gotcha moment.

After feeding Mr. Crow today, I had my back to him, walking toward home. I could tell something was coming up behind me and he sailed past my head, horizontal peanut in shell, safe in his beak.

Later on when I went out for my second walk of the day however, I showed up at a common feeding post and looked up....THREE Mr. Crows. (I can't tell male from female at this point so they are all Mr. Crow and when together it's simpler to say "Hi Mr. Crows!"). They are rather handsome devils.

Randoms:

I think I possibly had THE best cup of coffee in a long time tonight. Humanling and I had appointments and I sat in the waiting room, Best Cup O' Vanilla Hot Joe and Year in Provence, just enjoying the time. Once it cools off too much though, I drop it like I never knew it. Many times I will stand loyal to a cup of coffee even if it's gone cold, but this was the pre dinner hour and it can't stand a chance in this time frame. Plus I was aggravated for a moment with the Honey and decided to dump the rest down the drain.
*
Humanling and I were in the car, she blaring a Gwen Stefani tune that she’s wasted on my ears a million times. The torcha! She suddenly wanted to say something, but yet sing at the same time. It went something like:
Humanling: I forgot to have you sign the permission slip so that I could watch School of Rock today. So instead I went to the library and read a book on birth defects. Uh huh..it’s my Sh. All the girls stomp your feet like this!

Kids write the darndest poems!!
*
I’m not sure why this came up yesterday but the Honey told me that he would try not to fart on my cupcakes. I don’t actually have any cupcakes in which to release such a travesty on but had to make it clear that THAT shouldn’t even happen by accident.

Every Delicacy Has a Right To the Gross Factor

I am probably drinking ants. I am also the person who will shoo the ants off the table or counter before Honey sees them as he is not quite as forgiving as I am. Plus, ants skeeve him out way more than they do me. I love local honey in my coffee. I gave replaced sugar with local honey a while back. Honey is a powerhouse!! The Egyptians used honey! Honey doesn’t go bad (despite that fake out expiration date that you see on the bottle). Or rather, untouched honey doesn’t go bad. I’m not as sure about the processed honey.

Since the weensy ants came to town, I have to wrap up my honey container in a tightly sealed bag. Yet somehow the little McGuvyers (and even one McGruber!) get into the bag, sometimes under the cap but usually not into the honey itself. Except for the aforementioned MacGruber Ant. He ended up almost preserved forever in the great fountain of youth that is honey, in my bottle. Yee and Ipes. So rather than pass him off as an amber fossil, I took him out with a fork (don’t be fooled…it is a tedious process, such as the process of the honey bee…) and sweetened up my coffee. Unfortunately, I couldn’t save that one and honey is antibacterial…you can use it in wounds, so continue to use it. I’m a freak about some hygienically related things but for some reason, ants don’t bother the old women in my brain that bust a girdle about many other things filed under Germophobe.

I sat training one our budding interns at work, a nice girl…heads down usually. So she really gets a lot done. Across the pod from her was another girl, cleaning out her two bedroom purse. She placed a couple of purple Tazo teabag sleeves on her desk amongst the dresser and Hummel figurines, while rummaging through for an appointment card. I suddenly felt guilty. Tea. I should be drinking more tea!! But I love coffee. I even love the idea of drinking bad coffee. I feel….incomplete without coffee! This gets in the way of my ideas about being in a nice smelling, colorfully decorated peaceful home where I offer tea to my guests. Coffee can get a foot into that fantasy as well but usually that’s reserved for a Tea cameo. I swear that someday I will have that earthy, mystical, quiet, herbal lady type of vibe going on! Well, if I have to drop an adjective, I vote Quiet.

I took my usual two mile walk, peanut and cheerios in hand, the hand also gripping A Year in Provence. The chapter I was on (June) was so far the funniest one. There’s nothing wrong with cackling down the road alone. I saw Mr. Crow and kept up with our usual bargain…I will talk to him, make him sit through a minor photo shoot, set down some food and walk off. On the next road, I found a nice shiny blob of entrails, nice and clean, as if someone planted plastic ones there right on top of a ratty possum carcass. As it was in my path, I subscribed to the train wreck theory and couldn’t really look away as I stepped past it. I thought for sure Mr. Crow & Co. would be all over it. There had been a black turkey vulture there moments before that had flown away with its impressive wingspan. So I figured that the crows probably wouldn’t be much interested in my Fisher Price food when they could have FAO Schwartz. Ah, it’s fun to be wrong (don’t let Honey hear me say that). I went to take photos of this nice stone wall with this tree like bush full of pink flowers. Behind it were a few trees. As I was messing around with my views, I heard the quiet swoop and out of the corner of my eye, saw that I wasn’t alone. And this time there was no mistaking anything random. He sat patiently, inquisitively, quietly. And so, he had his peanuts.

The journey is the fun. How can you even know what the end is until after it’s ended?

Breathing in a Lovely Sunday

We don’t venture out to breakfast nearly enough! We took a nice sized drive to pick up my mother and her husband so that we could celebrate my step-dad’s 56th birthday. Upon arriving, I finally saw the gutted out living room, rug and couch-less. It didn’t look nearly as bad as she’d promised me. What a rip off.

They’d gotten rid of all their more porous furniture due to a bed bug infestation that started with an expensive trip to Bob’s. A grand and change later, they had a beautiful new bed. The only thing missing was the map to all the various colonies and villages founded by the bed bugs. Fresh hell. A year later, they are also without furniture and no reimbursement. Not even a small wadded up piece of paper thrown out of a van drive by that says “Sorry”.

We went to a place for breakfast that still continues to focus on the 1950’s. We rather enjoyed a number of photos of Lucille Ball, Henry Winkler and even one photo signed by Cindy Williams, aka “Who?” by my mother’s memory. LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY MA! LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY!!

My Humanling played that game called “I’m Full, Now Can I Go Play that Video Game Over There?” Game Fail! So she had to concentrate more on her secondary choice, Sulking.
We had a really good time though, despite my honey’s aches and pains from sitting in booths that were carved out and used on the set of the Flintstones (cartoon version). You need a lot of butt to cushion those seats and neither of us are armed with the Standard American Diet so we lose.

We currently have coffee brewing…ahhh……

I am waiting for the honey to come back from errands in order to be somewhat courteous, but I think I’m going to just pour it anyway. I plead “I drink slower than you”.

Finally I was getting out the door to take my 2 mile walk and feed my crows. Close by is a girl around my own age and she takes care of the property across the street. That includes a couple of horses, lots of chickens and a handful of cats. We started up one of those nice neighborly conversations and my walk turned into my coffee chat without the java. It was really nice though. Just chillin’ out with another female, talking about all kinds of things. And before I left she offered to have Humanling come and ride the horses as therapy (moody girl with epilepsy). She believes horses heal….they just know what to do. What a most gorgeous offer…so big that baking numerous apple pies for her probably wouldn’t even cover it. The crows during all this chatting patiently waited in a nearby tree. I’d thrown food down for one of them during our conversation and they’d found us a bit close to the peanut pile for comfort. However, my most social and brave one absolutely gave it his best. Then he and the other waited in the tree for my walk by.

Eventually I paid mind to a little sustenance. Humanling and I shared apple slices, giving the guinea pigs the peels. Then we moved on to the devilled eggs with smoked paprika that I made yesterday. I’ve found that the quickest way for us to use up our eggs if we’re getting a surplus is to make devilled eggs.

I have crabs. There. I said it. And I needed to change their tank today. I’ve had crabs for about eight years and at the highest had about nine. I currently have two. The poor things….I put off changing their sand for so long that the sand has learned English along with some American holiday customs. The poor little crustaceans…I’m fairly certain they are in Shell Shock (get it?). I used to really enjoy watching the little society that they eventually have if you put enough of them in there. Now I feel bad that the laundry piles up on the dresser like clouds in front of the sun. Only I am not the culprit most of the time depositing high laundry traffic and leaving it there. Ahem.

As the day winds down, I find that I never did get in my walk, as I usually want to do. But I traded it in for good company with a neighbor, which weighs out to be like that Friday night Ice Cream for Dinner thing. The walk is good for me but the talk with her is another kind of good, and one that I don’t have enough. A little bit of a hermit, but not an anti-social skulk when it comes to conversational skills, I do appreciate a fine quality chat.

Thirst Quenched!

So I am in the mood to sit and make some word art of the day, but alas, my beautiful man, my beloved Honey, is in the mood for chatter in intervals that allow the mind to locate a subject, begin to form a sentence, and then comes whatever knowledge it is that he wants to share. Up to and including the horses he chose today at OTB for the Belmont, even though I was right there during purchase.

I notice a male Pine Grosbeak just staring in the window (at me? Can he see me from there?). I told my honey and he said they DO stare in the window at us from the feeder – not a look of guilt as you might suspect….the feeder has plenty – but maybe it’s just a momentary curiosity. Or else they are trying to figure out how to play Farmville/Chess from the Spectator Sport of Voyeurism.

The Belmont race is getting ready to start so I will be finishing this later, Quiet provided. I put my bets on Nehro. Humanling chose Animal Kingdom. Honey believes it will be Shackleford, winner of the previous race. Now that I’ve asked, there is an explanation worthy of an architect’s thought process.
*
As it turns out, the tiniest bit of information that I read regarding the horses for the Belmont, helped out. I chose Stay Thirsty among two other horses for Win or Place and happily had my butt driven down to OTB to pick up my little win, but win it still was. Whoo hooo!
I have just finally finished cleaning guinea pig cages. Two of them. Because they can’t stand each other and start rumble strutting and everything else when together, including drawing blood. SO….since I decided 2 ½ years ago to adopt two guinea pigs, two cages is what I get to clean. Oh, at least now I can handle doing it with bare hands. I just scrub up like fifteen times when I’m done so that when I leave the bathroom, the soap starts gagging. Quite a feat if you ask me.

And watch this….my first slurp of Erdinger tonight. I was going to open it up for the horse race but happened to still be behind my drink schedule and was finishing my coffee at that time. Got a little behind when I decided to make devilled eggs and of course I cannot be touching absolutely anything else when I handle food unless it’s getting cooked afterward. In hot oil.
I also finally left Absolute Loserville and finally got a home room hit on my Home Run for the Streak pick on MLB. But that was yesterday. Today Jose Bautista taketh away. Oh well. At least I can say that I effectively chose ONE in my life.

I did see Mr. Crow on my walk today and that was about the most peaceful time of the day. Besides waking up this morning and spending Quality Time with the honey. It seems to go downhill from there some weekends. Right now he is rooting around like a hedgehog in Humanling’s room for all kinds of food garbage…i.e. wrappers or the substance of Food, itself. He went in there to check out the Mets score on her tv and of course his scavenger hound who has the bottomless pit for a gut, was sniffing out wrappers. The honey can’t seem to just let it go and has to search the entire room for more wrappers so that the child can be called lazy and get yelled at. Granted….she knows the rules and has been told plenty to throw her garbage out. She didn’t, so this is what happens. I can’t say that it makes for peaceful family conversation and picturesque moments, unless those photos are of a court trial.

This is one of those days where I would like to rewind back to the good parts and delete some of the others. The child finally has the tv during prime time – PRIME TIME for God’s sake! And she has to keep dealing with her criminal wrapper littering ways.

Bewwwww Hew ….. I just want a weekend and a thought without interruption. That’s right. I’m unduly crabby when dealing with other hominids today, even after winning on Stay Thirsty and seeing my loverly Crow friend! I should be punished and not spoken to at all for the rest of the night! No. Please. Don’t.

So here’s a little Manners Reminder for anyone reading who needs to pass on the word…because I know that my fabulous readers have their social q’s in fashion. When we went to cash in the *winning ticket* (que streamers and confetti) at OTB, there was a woman in front of us who was still at the counter when the man called out “next!” So I moved forward but was forced to the left of the counter because Mrs. Scratch Off with the spandex pants that gave her one giant buttcheek instead of separating it out nicely into the two that are more proper for an exposed derriere (as opposed to being covered by a long shirt or jacket) decided to stand there and lose her money on a ticket right in front of the cashier at the counter instead of losing off to the side to give us more room. A tad annoying. Yes, I know it was OTB, but still. I do encounter many polite people in general but there are the few who don’t seem to realize that they are sharing earth-space with others. Or counter space in this instance. But not YOU, my lovelies!!! I'm sure you are definitely flocked with those who pay the manners forward!

I must now get my mini-criminal to bed. She'll have to pay her $100 fine for littering and get to sleep.

My Flail Can Spit Fire...It can't? Why the hell not??

It was one of those work from home days where by the end of it, I should have looked like one of those cartoon characters where the bomb explodes in their face, leaving my hair stiff, black and straight back, my blue eyes peering out from my explosive covered face. The good thing is that I had a nice lunch with my honey. Working from home has it’s perks and lunch usually does not involve food.

We did have a nice lentil & rice dish that he had made last night when we were eventually hungry. Very tasty!

But when work was done, I was just sooo done. Time to change into my Not One More Minute clothes. Time to go see my crows, read a little of A Year in Provence. And out I went. The Crows were about…the one who is more forthright and getting to know that I won’t chuck a rock at him but instead will gently place a small pile of crackers and peanuts for him on the ground where he can see it.

His family is also showing up now and waiting in the backseat of the tree branches, not yet comfortable enough to go without the middle bird.

When I got home, Honey had been making his delicious home fries since we decided on breakfast for dinner. With seven chickens in the yard we can’t really ignore the eggs in the fridge that are awaiting their curtain call. It’d be a huge dis-service to the ladies in the coop, as we hear them at times squawking during production. We feel like the lowest life forms on the small occasion that we drop a precious shelled gift to the floor, thus shattering it and having to call in the cleanup reinforcements…the dog. We are dismayed that after all the bodily effort that the hen out back put in, we basically crumpled it up and tossed it aside. Especially since we’re broke! We may as well hand out $20’s to anyone who walks by our house and doesn’t rob it.

So tonight, after my walk and healing Tibetan excercises, I arrived into the kitchen to top off our dinner. Honey makes the spuds and I am the Egg Chef. I learned how to make scrambled eggs a la Julia Child, after buying Honey her books one Christmas. So tonight I used the Julia method, although the eggs stick to the pan the most for me this way. However, if you read last night’s post, you know that I don’t do dishes. So. Oh well!

For our drinking pleasure with breakfast for dinner, was Erdinger beer. Yum. A little weird with eggs, but on a nice summerish day, how can you turn down an Erdinger?

Eventually we sat outside and I called Miz Eye, who is currently incubating my grandson, Greyson. It was so much fun to talk to her for hours. We exchanged pregnancy stories, the seriousness of Dungeons and Dragons game players (and it turns out that she has my antagonistic What If I do this/Why Can’t I do This? Gene – seriously, why is it such an offense to try and make your troll/dragon/Fantasy Imp do something un-Mythically Conventional? As Miz Eye stated, it’s about using your imagination!), along with stories of her gentle giant of a partner’s passing out when seeing gross or disturbing things. I have a feeling he won’t attend the entire birth in full consciousness. I’ll place my odds on tunnel vision before the crowning.

My Honey Is Dishy

Ok I must admit this is a tiny little rant. But isn’t that what a blog is for? But like a plastic CD case unhinged, that’s not what it is always used for. (I use my unhinged CD case for scraping the ice off my windshield in the winter! Upcycle THIS!)

I realize that my man is riddled with various things that tire him out and make him hurt everywhere. The Lyme disease, the osteonecrosis, head pains, hip pains, joint pains, Everything o’clock pains. Sometimes worse than others. He also sweats like nobody’s business when he does the dishes on a hot summer night. So I figure I’d help out and maybe do a few dinner dishes for him to help out. But no….my method of stacking DIRTY dishes in the sink is pretty suckish compared to Honey’s standards. He likes to stack his dishes in the order that he will wash them so that they will fit neatly into the dish rack.

I’m all who cares! Who cares if I wash the bowl then dish then bigger bowl and cup and dish again? It means YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO! Just my thought. Of course as I write this, my honey is talking to the television sports announcers. So my path of thought has turned into a lawnmower gone rogue and is off into the bushes somewhere when once it had a clear plan to go by.

What I’ve discovered is that his petty perfectionism means simply this: I don’t have to do dishes.

Red Velvet Crumbs and a Mockingbird

Tonight we had the best and baddest mama jamma of a storm. We aren’t prone to worrying about tornados and the like in my area. Well, we weren’t anyway. Until that crazy tornado in Springfield, Mass last week. NOW we believe in ghosts.

The way home from work was brutal….visibility only allowing the ability to see a huge tree in the road right as you were about to drive over it. Lightning streaking down the sky constantly, strobing the town in a steady tempo. And of course, plenty of sirens to make us all pull over, wondering what the scene would be like, wherever that EMT was headed to.

So I know that I have this love for crows and all but our animals in the house are trying to get into the act. They’ve heard that a group of crows is a murder and are attempting to be the villainous bad asses of this hood. Le chat Azrael and le chien Ziggy both had their evil moments today. Azrael first, strutting around the house with a dead chipmunk. She is probably the single highest cause of Chipmunk Mortality around here. Not cool. She doesn’t even eat them. Ziggy took out a woodchuck who tried to defend himself. That makes me even sadder….an animal wanting to live and trying to stay alive and losing. But I guess that’s life and its opposite, Compost. I hear there were entrails involved with the woodchuck incident. SHIVER.

Today was a crazy day at work…one in which you dearly wish you had a beautiful Japanese or Chinese partition to close your little piece of pod real estate off and not speak to anyone. I have fabulous workmates…I just need quiet sometimes to work. And today we were all interrupted to the nth because our boss really wanted to know when this or that might be worked on, creating and slamming panic buttons wherever possible, like that landmine game. This doesn’t keep a flow going to finish the job. It just creates more fires to put out.

Regardless, I had a nice radio day. NPR decided that in all likelihood, its stories were not what I needed today and would not play for me. So I thought I’d check out some living in France podcasts, perchance some also on crows and ravens. So I did. I will have to reach out to a couple of those crow guys to see if they’ll be on my Scorpion Equinox show. One is Tony Angell and the other is John Marzluff. They wrote a book called In the Company of Crows and Ravens.

I lost my batting streak on MLB yesterday. I’d been up to a 7. This means I’m sort of a big deal (Not.). It really means that I guessed seven days in a row who would get a hit in baseball. Suzuki, how could you let me down? Now my boyfriend is beating me! Or….I’m getting a head start on my new streak so that by the time his crumbles, he’ll be behind me. Wah hahahahaha….
So to make me feel happier, Farmville decided that we could plant cupcakes. Which I did promptly. I am part of the ecstatic nerdville that is a committed farmer. I can’t let down my neighbors, nor can I let my crops wither (it’s a waste of my virtual cash!). So cupcakes it is. J’adore cupcakes. I am sure to eat one at least once a week. We have a great bakery in the area, McKinney and Doyle, and wow, talk about lookers. Those cupcakes could be rocks with frosting and I’ll eat them. I usually share one with Humanling on Tuesdays. I don’t know about her but I end up with red velvet crumbs all over my lap like an animal.

So tonight I decided to do yoga since it was still lightning out during my usual walking and cavorting with the crows time slot. I haven’t done a full yoga routine since I started walking during our lovely weather and boy, it was a task. My balance was all ragged. Note to self: do not ignore yoga or else it will make the joke out of me that I am once cold weather comes.
Eventually I decided to grab a plastic bag and take my Year in Provence book, along with camera and Murder Treats (ok really one faithful crow does not comprise a murder but he did lead 2 of his family to me a couple of days ago and they were fed too.)

Now I’ve noticed that there are a couple of other Birdie Cues out there that let me know Crow is around. Mockingbird is one of them. He starts with his bizarre Rehhhhhhh Rehhhhhhhh noise which I usually hear when Crow and I are in the same area. Mockingbird dive bombs Crow constantly and Crow, being the (much) bigger of the two doesn’t even bother to kick his ass. He just continues to get pelted and shows some patience. So when I heard Mockingbird’s Rehhhhhhhh tonight as I headed out of the driveway, I saw Crow also. I put down some vittles and left the driveway. I have a feeling that Mockingbird is very territorial over the driveway area so Crow instead flew to one of its tree posts that I normally feed him under. I happened to get a photo of the attempted dive bomb because I enjoy taking photos of Crow whenever possible (see above photo). Crow then flew down to eat.

On my way back to the house, my mile almost up, it had started raining again and I decided to just do one mile tonight instead of two. Red-Winged Blackbird is the other messenger to let me know that Crow is around. RWB started making noise and also dive bombing Crow. Very patient Crow, who simply wants to eat peanuts and cheerios and crackers. And almonds this time around.

So tonight I tried to teach Crow a word….”Once Around This Time”. Ok that’s a phrase but it might sound like a giant syllabic word to Crow. The rain, of course. Tomorrow I will lap 2 miles and feed him again.

See you tomorrow Crow. For now I see that my older one, Miz Eye, has sent me a request in Farmville. A first. Of course in the exuberance of sharing something you like with one of your very favorite people, I have already sent a gift back with a long paragraph telling her to friend my Farmville Friends, with footnotes.

A little sprig o' trust

It’s been maybe a couple of weeks now. There is one crow in particular, so far as I can tell, who is more trusting of this lots of blonde hair tailed, book reading, baggie holding human.
I’ve discovered that I no longer can decide that I won’t walk on a day where it is too hot. Or too anything. Mr. Crow (or is it a Miz? I feel sorta bad that I can’t differentiate on looks alone at this point, just behavior) knows at this point that I will walk the circular block twice every late afternoon. Now it’s become a schedule and already having pets, I know how important their rituals are to them.

The other day I was walking and had my nose deep inside my book, not looking up often to see where Mr. Crow and his cronies might be landing. They usually fly to the tree nearest to where I will be arriving. They sit like patient, expectant statues, waiting for me to notice their presence. The one day I didn’t happen to notice….I was reading Stephanie Meyer’s “The Host” and was absorbed. I hear a gentle and abbreviated “caw” above me and saw Mr. Crow on his Feed Me branch.

I usually talk to them first, making sure to look up at them. They recognize faces and like that shampoo commercial in the 70s, for better or worse, they will tell a friend, who will tell two friends and so on and so on.

Then I will open the baggie, show a palm of food while speaking still, and then place it down on the ground where they can easily see it. For now my intention is to gain the trust. To show them that I’m simply here to feed and be friends. I will put the food down and walk away so that you can eat without my creepy human presence. They probably have their own poems about us….if you see one human it means you will be alone, if two, you will find a mate of your own….

I speak again after placing the food and wish Mr. Crow a nice day and to enjoy his vittles.
There are little milestones that seem to occur. I’m no expert but I do know that crows have their own territories. I believe our ‘hood contains about four or so. They bobble around in the back yard and if I go out to see them, they are still tentative. So I save it for the regimen of the walk, where they can choose how close they’ll get.

The other day, Mr. Crow landed eye level with me on a fence about 10 or less feet away. This was a big event for me….I’m used to wondering if I’m going to escape a crow present being dropped on me when I look up to talk. This one was level and close. The first time any of them have done so. I pulled out the baggie and moved a little slower than usual so that he wouldn’t feel threatened and as usual, placed his vittles down, gently speaking and then walked off. I usually bring a camera so that I can get a photo or two first but this day I hadn’t….naturally. It would have been the best photo yet.

I tell my honey that I’m not sure that I can be seen with him outside. He owns a hound that at times barks desperately at anything he wants to chase and destroy. If the crows see me with That Guy who owns the Barking Orange Thing, then I might end up on the Spy list.
I have no idea where this little courtship with the feathered ones are going but so far, the journey is sweet. I do imagine picking one up like our chickens in the backyard but highly doubt there would be a simple episode of non-resistance. For now the walks with book and baggie are just fine as is.

Friends in the Country

I think someone is flirting with me. He’s sleek and real smooth. I don’t just love him because he’s black. Or because he watches me when I’m not looking. It’s a quaint flirtation.

I go for my 2 mile walk in the evening. I am usually eyes down in a book (yes, I do read and walk….and despite the many times I’ve been asked how, I really don’t have an answer!). Curled up in my right hand is the top of a Ziploc baggie. Inside is an assortment of goodies; peanuts in shells, cheerios, bread…whatever is on hand. I get to one of two of my landmarks. I look up and there he is. Pretending not to see me now. Or knowing that I can’t see exactly what his eyes are looking at since they are also camouflaged by his darkness. I say hi, tell him what I have for him. Then throw it down on the ground. I talk for a moment more, then walk off. I won’t look behind me until I’m a safe distance away. When I turn around eventually, he’ll be eating the goods. He saw me. He knew what I was doing.

When I come around the stretch, I look over into the horse pasture and see Crow there. He notices me and lifts off, flying past me on my right and perches to see if it’s still true. Is it true? Of course it’s true. Every time I see you. The familiar sound of the baggie opening, my hand grasping the edibles while I speak to him. Then I toss them down and tell him to enjoy. He and Red Winged Blackbird consult. I walk off, continuing with my book, knowing that in this little courtship ritual, I will turn around in about 30 seconds to see if he is enjoying my gifts.

Behold. I Hath Seen a Genuine, No Back Biting Chickadee

My friend at work and I somehow found ourselves in a Nice Off.

She's probably about 15 years younger than me and an absolute joy. She's so very considerate and sweet to everyone and has a vat full of laughs just waiting to be tripped over and scattered around the room.

I helped her with something and she started it with an IM saying that I'm awesome.

I said she is a ray of light.

She said I am the sun.

I said she is the sun of five galaxies.

I won.

The Cusp of Change

I
Am
Lost

But someone believes they have found me
So my floating crate is no longer at sea
But I’m still inside wondering
Why someone hasn’t yet jimmied open a wall for me

Perhaps my grip on reality
Outside of the barbed membranes
Really isn’t the main path at all
Then again
With all my excavation gear...

Isn't this what I expected?

May 2nd

You know what today is. Ups and downs, events, non-events, whichever rock is shining in the sky. Day after May Day. The beauty seen from the eyes that swivel around to see the road taken. It doesn’t change the depth of today. Nothing will never change today.

The Hope, the Beauty, the magical reality of blooms. It's always available, even in memory and refuses to be superceded.

O'Blessings

A beautiful St. Patrick’s Day…the sun is shining and the weather is mild. The shiny, sleek crows made their rounds in the yard this morning.

I have been under the weather the past couple of days….a small flu it seems. Sweating keeping the mate awake at night with my Excorcist type of shaking due to chills.

But I am Irish, with one of them there O’ type names and so I’ve decided to get my caffeine fix with Irish tea, which is going down much easier than my usual beloved coffee. My beloved and I usually like to shower together. Today he ushered me in (he is tough loving my illness and trying to get me up and around more than I feel like doing so) and as we stood there washing, I remarked that I am surprised there wasn’t some giant oil slick of sweat on the bottom of the tub from my 2 days of perspiring as if it were a full time job.

I’ll tell you what IS a full time job though. Filling out one bracket for the March Madness basketball tournament. Now fill out nine more and you have put in time that you wish you were paid for. I’m newer at this sports thing…only finally “joining them” because when living with a sports freak, you are in denial if you think you are going to beat them. Especially my dude, who will play by play it for you and tell you all about it even when you don’t want to hear about it. But because I love my honey, I don’t like telling him to just shut up already….who knows what I might gain from the conversation. I’ve learned a few things by listening to things that I normally would shut out.

By the same token, sometimes I would just like some quiet and don’t always want to hear about anything that isn’t of my own interest.

But today, feverish or not, it is a day of blessings and I think I will enjoy what the day brings…no expectations except to be open and experience.