Tag Archives: bird

Devil Behind the Wheel

“Kermie”

This is me. I look like this now.

Not really, but there’s a resemblance, if only for the green fuzzy bits. Miss that hoodie-thingie with the stripes- managed to lose it, as well as my most favorite coat and scarf, all at different times, and all in movie theatres in the last coupla years. I don’t lose things ever, except outerwear, apparently.

“Not

Speaking of theatres, I shoulda been a movie set designer. A profession that incorporates research, history, film, design, creation- both a flat representation on paper and its physical form realized.

I was hanging up some birthday signage for a coworker a while back, and needed to measure out the length of monofilament needed and said so aloud. Another coworker whom I was discussing the likes of Jemaine Clement with at the time, mentions that my Pacific Northwest accent’s showing. I stare blankly not yet identifying the telltale word. She says, “You said ‘maysure’, not ‘measure’.” Thought I’d corrected that one, but my default won out in the moment.

“Egg

Curious as to what new food fads will hit next. I’ve stubbornly never bought into the whole kale as salad thing, cuz, ew. Arugula and spinach, please. Though I’ve fully adopted avocado toast, end of story. (Time is a weirdo, I posted this pic a few years back, but ’05 feels closer than that morning in ’15.)

It finally happened, one of the sweet new lives residing on my balcony came to an end. I was out watering some plants and happened to look down to see a lifeless little downy-feathered body laying still at my feet. Thoughts ran through my mind about how sad it was, had the bird suffered, did the parents care, what exactly happened, and wow, I seemed to be dealing with this rather well. Finished pouring the last of the watering can’s contents and stepped back inside where I promptly burst into tears sobbing for the little life ended too soon. Glad to know I’m still me, with emotions that’ll never quite be fully contained when it comes to matters of the heart.

“In

More car show loveliness. Wish there was some place I could go to drive like a frickin’ maniac without harming a soul and return having given flight to the utter exhilaration I feel when speeding and efficiently maneuvering from point A to B when behind the wheel. I suppose that requires obstacles, AKA, other vehicles and/or somewhat close quarters to maneuver around though, so drat to that. ♦

Share on FacebookTweet about this on Twitter
Care to share?

The Birdly Poo, Oh, What to Do

“Shite”

‘Twas a fool-free first of April this year. The birds kinda took a stab at it though the week prior.

Was out and about on the hunt for some decent boots. Having scored a pair, I was headed back to the car, when I felt it. Something hit my bag. The weight of it, something definitely hit it. I looked up. Nuttin’. At the bag, all around the top and sides. There! Poop. Moved the bag. More poop, there on the ground. This could have been so much worse, as my Dad’s forehead once attested.

Recorded the experience for posterior, er, posterity.

“Mister”

Stopped to deposit some mail recently, and was happy to see a familiar site atop the mailbox! Who left it there? Is it still there right now? It could use a bath and my first reaction was to take it with me. I refrained and hope to find it still there at a later date, pop-free. ♦

Share on FacebookTweet about this on Twitter
Care to share?

Catch As Catch Can

“Dachshunds”

This past autumn, I housesat. On the roster- two dogs, one cat, a bunny, a bird, and a beta. Here! This is Raskey, he made like glue, and Annie, she wasn’t far behind. I was never cold with these two around. I just love hot dogs. 

Everyone should know their own name, yes? And fine feathered friends should be no different. I’d sit right up against the bird’s cage, peering in and calling out “casa,” fully expecting a “blanca” in response from the lovely little creature, appropriately white with a smattering of Crayola Sky Blue feathers. Though apparently, she didn’t wanna play it again. Ate up the attention, at least. As well as a strand of my hair.

I headed to the front door, unprepared to greet betrayal.

So, I’d done my duty, wrapped up my time sitting, and was all set to head out on the last day. It was a rainy one, and I’d stopped in over lunch with takeout chicken in tow. Hungry doggy eyes followed my every bite with laser precision to the very last. Tied up the bag of leftovers for disposal in the outdoor can. After saying “goodbyes” to my animal troupe and double checking this and that, I headed to the front door, unprepared to greet betrayal. I set the alarm, opened the door a tad, and- VWOOM, THEY WERE GONE! Nothing like double dachshunds bolting through your legs to make you feel completely powerless.

Standing in the driveway, attempting to assess the situation, the rain came down, and the dogs circled ever farther into the sprawling neighborhood beyond. I could see and hear the highway a short ways away. Calling them increased the frolic- walking towards, walking away, darting attempts- nothing was working. Then, they’re gone. Whatever to do … there’s rustling, plastic … wonderful wind rustled plastic! I untied the bag, began to bend down and outta nowhere run the pups straight at me. At the chicken! God bless chicken remnants! Suckers. Gotcha. Slippery wet little devils followed their noses and that bag right back into the house where they went on to nap with visions of chicken thumbs dancing in their heads, I’m sure. There’s a protein-based lesson here about hotdogs (all beef) and chicken, I just know it. ♦

Share on FacebookTweet about this on Twitter
Care to share?