Archive for March, 2008


I hate the flu. I hate the flu. Goddamn flu.

So except for that, Easter weekend was a nice one. How was yours? I made the kiddo a roast chicken for dinner. At the last minute, before it went into the nice, toasty oven, the kiddo suddenly felt that we should name the naked, vulnerable bird. I thought for exactly one second and spit out a name on my sh*t list.( And no, it’s not her father….I’m not that twisted. ).

My birds didn’t give me any eggs for Easter. The more I watch them, the more confused I get. I see nest building behavior from Miles, which is normal male behavior. But some of the markings on Felix/Felicia’s body negate thoughts that this bird is a female. Perhaps Miles has issues or is….confused. I dunno.


plenty of peeps to go around

Well, I’m guessing. Since I’ve gotten the finches, which were assured to be males and aptly named Miles and Felix, I’ve begun to suspect that Felix just might be….a Felicia. This is in part because of some research that I never bothered to do before I made the jump to Crazy (helicoptering) Bird Lady, but the hunch is mostly due to some….behavior…on the part of a rather aggressive and randy Miles. Now, I’m not at all into watching this sort of bird on bird action, but I did have some ducks once upon a time, and I know more than I really care to admit about birds and the birds and the bees.

There are no eggs yet, and no signs of nest building in the little box I so eagerly provided. But some finches never really master the nest carpentry thing. Crazy kids. Between them and the two infant twins who moved in across the way, I am going to be unbearably warm and googly and fuzzy.

I have learned recently that cats and plants do not go together. Nor do birdcages and carpet. Just as I have gotten the kiddo to clean up after herself and do some enthusiastic dusting, I have aquired the equivilant of four toddlers to keep me up to my eyeballs in cleaning and fight intervention. Even the kiddo has taken to parroting “All right you two, knock it off!!” a half dozen times a day.

Tis true that one should be careful about what they wish for.


There are so many things wrong with the events of  this story. I have not felt this angry about a news article in a long time. That poor family. Unbelievable.

spring harbinger

Once again it’s spring training and I find myself both admiring and coveting the Red Sox pitching staff, and hoping great things for our own young phenoms, Phillip Hughes and Joba Chamberlain. It will be fun to watch, as I will, parked on my couch or by my radio, alongside my kiddo and the kitties. As much as I wish that my team could make a deal for Johan Santana, I’m happy that the era of breaking the bank and the farm system is over. Finally, there’s a front office that can hold off and have faith in the future.

I love baseball because it’s more than just a game to me. I love the process. And I see metaphors, though I promise no bad baseball movies will come about from them.

Great hitters and great pitchers make adjustments all the time, given whatever fluctuating circumstances. Fail six times out of every ten at-bats, and  you’re considered a success. And then there’s the wild cards…the hit and run, the squeeze play, and  double steals that make things interesting and unpredictable. I don’t believe in all or nothing in most situations anymore, I see more shades of grey and value a consistent approach to my undertakings. The team who is consistent is usually the team at the top when the long season ends. I’m finding that when I hit challenging situations, I  make adjustments too.

Still, I live for the wild card.

“We’re so lucky to be alive at the same time Leonard Cohen is.” -Lou Reed, Rock n Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony



Last night I was prowling around  Target for ice cube trays with the kiddo in tow. It took me more than half an hour to find them, all the while muttering to myself “in what world do I not know where everything is when I shop?!!! Dammit! I knew I should have taken the ice cube trays….that would have drove him crazy!” (and it would have). See, this was me, my former self, the  power shopper-my- day-is-not-complete-until-I-have-shopped-til-I-dropped girl. But I don’t “browse” anywhere that doesn’t feature second hand merchandise, hardware,  or cute animals anymore. I’m very much a go in, get what I need and then back out shopper. Saves a lot of time, money, and probably temptation. I kept double, triple, quadruple checking and then repeating the kitchen section. I began to wonder if it was an ADD moment, like my mind was glazing over all of the selections in the department,  as sometimes happens when I’m overwhelmed by volume. But no, I was medicated and feeling “on” at the time. After a quick consultation with one of the ubiquitous clerks in red, I discovered the problem was due to my own shopping habits and a questionable marketing choice. They were in the disposable plastics section, where all the Rubbermaid and Glad containers for lunch sandwiches were. A place I would never go.

I must say that I am very fond of the Archer Farms blueberry nut blend Target sells though. Yummy. My refrigerator has half a shelf dedicated to nuts and seeds since I went vegetarian a couple of weeks ago. I feel physically a lot better, but it’s no surprise since I’ve done this before. My only temptation came this morning when the kiddo requested bacon for breakfast. She herself eats only the fat on the bacon (more fat, Mama!). It passed.

I’m growing my hair long. I’m starting the volunteer bird rehabilitation project I’d wanted to do for some time, soon. These days I’ve been having a lot of fun poking old boundaries imposed upon me by my previous relationship (the birds played into that). After almost eight years of anticpating and catering to another’s whims, needs, and moods full time, to the point of hyper vigilance, I’m finally figuring out what I want and need. Sounds basic, right? But it’s taken me awhile.

I have my last session with the rock star therapist next week, and I’m sad. I’ve “lost” therapists before and was always stunned by what must be a stock question from the professionals in these situations: “how do you feel about this separation from *insert name of former therapist*?” WTF??? It’s not as though I breast fed or shared my bed with these people, was my thought. But I get it now, I do. I really like the rockstar. She’s about my age, and a dynamo, a force of nature. And, ok, it’s difficult not to like someone who tells you at least five times a session, how very smart you are (she’s whip smart herself. I love smart people). It’s not relevant to my treatment, of course, but I like that she wears just a bit of glitter on her eyes at her job, in the daytime. Somewhat of a professional faux-pas, but it tells me she is happy with who she is. I’ll probably see her around at the Y, though. I need her example.

Happy Thursday. It’s sunny, warm, and nearly snow free. We’re going to go out and play. Ciao!

Cat and dog diaries

This reminds me more than a little of one of my dearly departed cats, the Empress-Queen-of-the-Universe-and-all-Should-Bow-Down-to-my-Obvious-Superiority, Fee. She was not well regarded by anyone in the fam but me, and drove my mother and T pretty nuts. But it was hard not to love a cat who would follow me to school every day and greet my return by running across our large yard, and then dropping down at my feet  to do a woozy roll on her back for me. Every day.

 8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
 9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
 9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. 


There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage

This morning I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. -For now…Cat

So accurate. My dog Buddy was one easy to please dog. Never an attitude. I knew exactly how he felt about me. I do miss him. I love my cats, all of them, dearly as well, but they are different. Finn moves for nothing. Nothing. Not even the roar of an approaching vacuum cleaner. Even the kiddo knows to clear the room once the Dyson is going! I half seriously believe he’d somehow take me to court should so much as a hair on his head were harmed by the yellow monster however slightly, however accidently.

March 2008
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