the boy has swine flu
vomit on his sheets today
parenting is great
—
the girl has it too
which end is exploding now?
working from home sucks
Oliphant Parts
Reframing Reality
Categories: Family
Swine Flu X 2
Italian Invasion
I have a human office-mate for the first time in 8 years. She isn’t much noisier than the fish, so I think I’ll keep her for a bit.
She’s Italian, so far hasn’t complained about the mess, is in no way associated with the mafia and has a high tolerance for bad jokes. I think she’ll go far. Her obsession with Vampires (sparkly Twilight types, that is) may be a bit much, although so far she hasn’t put up any Edward or Bella posters.
An Occasional Death
I paint my life with broad strokes of leisure and rare strokes of pain. Twice this year I have lost family, hopefully the last for a while. I have been fortunate, I think, in having relatively long-lived and healthy relatives. Before this year, the last loss was my grandfather Al, unrepentant alcoholic and master of profanity, years ago. I have to go back 13 years to Amber for prior death, and to my childhood for all others. Six deaths in over 41 years isn’t so bad, is it?
I said goodbye to my grandfather on Saturday, my last view of him a handful of ashes riding on the wind. Whatever he may have been to others, he was a wonderful grandfather to me, and I always felt loved. If there were faults in the relationship, I would place them fully with me, falling short as a grandchild as I built my own life and family.
It was my grandfather who taught me the peacefulness of cross-country skiing (although constantly stopping to look for birds did not fit in my teenage schemes), who took me for hikes on the mesa, and got me banned from the Getty. I hope I can be as good a grandparent to any future grandchildren of my own when the time comes as he was a grandfather to me. I may be a bit quieter at the Getty, however.
Hey Now
Bear with me, as I feel a mental wandering coming on. I promise to avoid discussing the merits (or lack thereof) of the spray and pray, or which photo here makes the best appetite suppressant. Hell, I’ll probably even skip the merits of brain lesions . . .
So, let’s focus on the important stuff, shall we? Birds. It’s hard letting go, but I am trying. I’ve let him loose, he’s come back, and I sent him back into the world yet again. Sure, I have to step out onto the deck every few hours for a feeding, but el birdo is doing quite well outside. Okay, I haven’t a clue how well he’s doing, but he hasn’t been eaten by a cat, so that’s pretty good in my book. Yes, my book is short, and mainly full of pictures.
This:
Has become this:
He still stops by several times a day for some cat food, a mealworm and some seed. Someday he (she?) will realize that I am not a bird, though, and I will finally be free. Sniff!
So, what am I doing now? Working. And listening to Beige Curtains, by Riki Lindhome. And thanking hulu for getting rid of their rtmpe-only streams. Thank you, hulu. Now I can watch an endless stream of crap again. My life is full.
My life is great, it’s just my desk that’s a mess
Papers piled high, books lying here and there
and bird seed everywhere, I guess I should start to clean
Papers piled high, books lying here and there
and bird seed everywhere, I guess I should start to clean
Rhyme and rhythm and a strong urge to pee
Only one of these things describes me
(and it isn’t rhyme and it isn’t rhythm, as you can see)
It’s sunny outside and sunny inside and in the tank, my fish are dying
I should clean the filter, but I don’t
I’m full of doubt and can’t and won’t
It’s good to be me as long as you don’t think too deeply
My bird is free, flying, daughter crying, everybody smiling
at me
Crap — I think my fly’s undone!
Tomorrow I have to battle the dmv. Apparently, Idaho doesn’t believe in notifying people when their licenses expire. I discovered this while attempting to get past TSA on Friday. They prefer you to have a valid license or some form of current id when you board a plane. Rather an uptight bunch, really. Does having an expired license make you more likely to commit acts of terrorism? Or was it just my muttering of “By Allah’s will, it won’t be a problem much longer” when they pointed out the expired license?
And finally, because I seem to lack a point, here is my explanation of why we have so many Mary Kay Letourneau wannabes these days: Three O’Clock High. More evidence of how us eighties teens fucked up the world. Somehow I missed this movie when it first came out. I think I was doing something stupid like jumping out of airplanes and training to kill Ivan. Poor Ivan, just a faded memory now that we are supposed to hate Muslims rather than Russians. Le sigh . . .
Bird is Back
So the bird is back. He’s promised to give freedom another shot once I get back from the funeral, but in the meantime, he wants more mealworms, cat food and other goodies that come to him with no effort other than screaming on his part. Le sigh . . .
I’ll put up his latest picture once I find my usb reader. It’s somewhere here under the 8 inches of books, papers and assorted crap on my desk.
Overdoing It
Somewhere between the 14th and the 16th shot of espresso yesterday I realized that I may have been overdoing it. As a consequence, today is a bit rough. It is hell growing old. Fortunately, I am nowhere near as miserable as Jennie, who claims she feels as if live rats are chewing on her intestines. Yum.
Today is a day to grow up. I’ve released the winged vermin that is my sparrow (member of the weaver finch family, actually, but let’s just ignore that for now, shall we?) and he/she/it happily joined a group of other sparrows (yes, once again, weaver finches, not sparrows). I’m going to spend some time this afternoon cleaning my office, as the various bird droppings on the windowsill, book shelf, desk and cabinets do not improve the feng shui. I should have taken some final pictures before letting the little bugger go.
So, what do you think of killing your pets to make toys and fashion accessories, erm, art? Huh. I guess I should have added that the pets link IS NSFW!!! (as mentioned now by several people who had to hastily clear their browser caches) Sorry about that.
Weekends
There’s nothing like a long weekend to recharge the batteries. We commemorated or miseralated or whatever it is you’re supposed to do by having one of my aunts die on Friday, the girl-child’s pet fish die on Saturday, and the attempted committing of sister crazypants on Monday (a 72 hour observation would be great!). Sunday was for rest. Today it’s back to work.
I fly to San Jose Friday, attend the funeral Saturday and will be back Sunday afternoon to deal with whatever insanity is planned for next weekend. I’m sure it will be a delight. I look forward to an uneventful June. Please?
Fresh Lemonade!
Ugh. I have joined the world of lolcats. Poor Frank was just trying to cool off his hindquarters in the dog bowl when Ariel chased him off. Just in case you want to violate my pets with your captions, I’ve made the image a cheezburger link.
If I start twattering, just f*@%*ing kill me.
Hot Chick In The Office
The new chick is cute, but constantly yaps. I thought my time with noisy birds was over. Apparently not. She/he/it also takes up too much valuable desk space. I could have more burnt-out light bulbs or another three paper piles where I now have to keep a bird tank and light.
We originally tried just putting the little bugger in a nest, but it wasn’t happy and kept climbing out. Once I added the monkey and the little blanket, it settled right down. Now it gets pissed if you take its monkey away. I have to feed it from between the monkey’s appendages or it just sits there, mouth closed. Maybe if momma-bird hadn’t been so cheap, this baby wouldn’t have thrown itself from its original nest.
So, does anyone know what type of fledgling this is? Besides noisy and somewhat lacking in feathers?
Update 5/21: As the chick fledges, it is looking more and more like an English House Sparrow. I’d say great, at least it’s not another damned Starling, but the House Sparrow is just as bad an invader as the Starling, killing native birds and taking over prime nesting areas. Just once, I’d like one of the birds I raise to be something that’s actually worth setting free. Well, maybe he’ll want to stick around and spend his days in my office, crapping on my shoulder and staring at the great scary world outside my window.
Ewe Two
My stomach thanks this one for being born early this morning.
Cimarron's First Lamb
We’re still waiting on a name for the last one, so obviously this one is also nameless for now. Good news on the name front, though: Jennie’s decided that the Scottish Gaelic translation of Baa Ram Ewe was too long, so now we’re Gaoth Allamaugh Farms or Gaoth Maugh Farms, depending on whether we want to be Windy Wild Field Farms or just Windy Field Farms. I was shooting for Desolate Hellhole Farms, but Jennie’s opposed to that one for some reason. And for anyone who wants to be able to pronounce it, those woud be either Gway Allaway or Gway Way Farms, in good ol’ murican. The latter sounds like I’ve got a speech impediment.
Okay, just checked, and considering that Gaoth also means flatulency, we’re going to hold off on the farm naming as well. Who the hell wants to spend time at Flatulent Field Farms?
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