Parakeet Girl

Let's Call It A Year

2011-12-17T03:36:00.001-06:00

LET'S CALL IT A YEAR

http://soundcloud.com/kmbrco/letscallitayear

words by Kimberly Mackowski, music by Beth Sablay

Maybe it’s just me, but when the ball dropped and 2011 arrived, I bid 2010 a very hearty farewell. 2010 had been a very difficult year, particularly with the loss of my mother. I missed her dearly, and miss her every day. But, somehow, I felt that beginning a new year might change things. A fresh start. Yes, I would still miss her, but we were moving forward. My sisters, my family, had weathered the storm, and we were all still here, forging new memories and remembering old ones.

Somehow, though, 2011 didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. It was difficult in other ways. And I know many who were challenged this year. Who suffered loss, difficult changes, heartbreak, loneliness. Who said goodbye to loved ones far too soon. And it seems, every day, we hear of some tragedy taking place. People losing their jobs, their homes, their health. Sometimes it seems as if the entire world is set to self-destruct.

And then the holidays circle around again. First, it seems as if it starts too early. Stores put up Christmas displays in October. Christmas music starts playing before Thanksgiving. We grouse. Complain about the commercialism, while we rush around shopping for gifts, and writing out Christmas cards. But there is something about the season, even with all the commercial trappings, that makes it different from the rest of the year. It’s as if we’re trying to conjure up all the generosity and kindness we fell short of in the past eleven months. The clock is ticking and we’ve got to fit as much in as possible before the year ends.

And what’s wrong with that? Really. What’s wrong with being a little kinder? Offering a hand to someone in need? Sharing a smile, a happy greeting, being just a little nicer to those we love, and those we meet along the way. I only wish it would last longer. The cheer and forgiveness, the gestures of kindness, letting those we love know just how much we do love them.

When 2012 exits, I will not be sorry to see it go. And yet, each day of December, I’m aware that the holiday season surrounds me and I long for a moment to just be still and enjoy it. To take in the beauty of a twinkling Christmas tree, be with the ones I love, and to listen to the music of the season.

The songs say it all. All we have to do is listen.

Wishing you the happiest of holidays. And blessings of love and hope for the coming year.

Kimberly

I can't make you love me

2011-10-27T02:42:00.000-05:00

First off, I apologize. It's been a long time since I've written a true post. I've wanted to, but other things take priority. And, really, who wants to hear what I have to say. Especially in the middle of the night.

I've been working on my Etsy site, posting new items, doing a little surfing, and thinking, and reading.
I hit "play" on the laptop of Bon Iver's cover of Bonnie Raitt's "I can't make you love me" - and it just breaks my heart. There's just something so beautiful in the sound of his voice. So unexpected.

I had heard of Bon Iver, but never really gave them an honest listen. This cover got me to sit up and pay attention. Check out the video on youtube. I dare you not to be moved.

What better time to cry than in the middle of the night? It's quiet. Who are you going to talk to? Just hit repeat on the one track that lets the tears flow right now and get on with it.

Why am I sad? Everything. Nothing. This and that.
I miss my mother. Some days I get wrapped up in fear and anxiety.
Some days I can't remember what I forgot to remember to forget.
Some days the hormones win.

What I do know is that I'm probably not really alone. Somewhere out there, in the dark of night, down the block, or half the world away, someone else is hitting repeat on "I can't make you love me", and they are letting the tears fall.

Things are often clearer after the rain...

Widget loves Texter....Parakeet Love

2011-09-22T23:09:00.000-05:00

A sweet little video of Widget preening her love, Texter. Then Texter returning the gesture in kind. It's the subtle little moments inbetween that really speak of love.

Finding Sorrow a Home

2011-09-01T02:59:00.000-05:00

You wanted your ashes scattered

Over a river far away

We crossed the miles

We took you there

We honored your wishes

Set the dust of your body and soul free

Felt it fall through our fingers

And into the water

Watched it float away

But now, where do we go

Where is our touchstone

How do we find you

To grieve, to cry,

To wonder aloud in a quiet place

Where you are and how you are

Where do we go

To express the depths of our pain

Or share the details of our lives

Where do we go to find you

When we have no place on solid ground

No grave, no marker

No place to give our sorrow a home

The Birdies Go To Bed

2011-07-02T00:57:00.000-05:00

The nightly ritual of tucking the birdies into bed. It begins with Tori, and then, one by one, I either tuck them in, or they fly or climb in themselves.

I captured it one night. Enjoy.

Birds at Play

2011-06-20T21:21:00.000-05:00

http://youtu.be/58spj0sBfyk

Lots of blog post ideas floating around in my head, but not the right time to sit down and compose.
Hope you'll enjoy this instead.

Kimberly

Browser takes a bath.wmv

2011-05-25T00:28:00.000-05:00

Budgie, Browser, does love his bath. This time he decided to take a bath in a large
water dish. He does fit in quite perfectly. No one else is allowed. As Texter found out.
All was well, wet, and clean...

New Bags Available in my Etsy Shop.

2011-05-20T00:56:00.001-05:00

I've just added 4 new bags to my growing line of hand crocheted and felted bags. Please visit and tell me what you think. Thank you!

http://www.etsy.com/shop/ParakeetGirl?ref=pr_shop_more

Kimberly

My Flock

2011-05-18T21:02:00.001-05:00

Click here to view this photo book larger

Splishin' and Splashin'

2011-05-16T02:59:00.001-05:00

The budgies love to take a bath. Some more than others. Texter, for example, is always clean, snow-white, and what I would call dapper. And handsome, of course.

The bath is always available for them, but for some reason, one of their favorite times to use it is when I'm carrying it. One hops on, then another, and before you know it, the old swimmin' hole gets pretty crowded. And I get pretty wet, too.

So, here's an example of birdie bathtime fun. Enjoy (I always do).

Kimberly

As my Mother used to say...

2011-05-08T00:44:00.000-05:00

I was reading through your 70th birthday book, Mom. So many pictures and letters from loved ones with accolades and anecdotes about you. Laughter a common theme. It seems that everyone who knew you had a funny story to tell. You always had a great sense of humor, and an infectious laugh. I used to love when you would laugh so hard that when you'd breathe in there would be a snort. It meant you were having a good time. I'm proud to say I've inherited that snort.

You used to tell a story about singing me to sleep. You said I was barely a year old and you were singing me to sleep and I told you that you didn't have to sing - "It's okay, Mommy. I'll go to sleep." Apparently I didn't like your singing. Turns out you never could carry a tune. Oh, the times we tried to teach you. But your voice just didn't work that way. You humored us anyway.

Even as kids we would torment you for a laugh. Back in the day, when there were rotary phones attached to a cord attached to a wall, you would talk on the phone and we would hover asking "who is it?", "what do they want?", "who's going?", "who's in trouble?". Umm, we were once you got off the phone. You would give us the stink eye, and then rattle a fist at us. Or you'd ask for your cigarettes, motioning to us what you wanted, we'd get them, and hold them just out of your reach. There's that stink eye again. Oh, man, we had some fun, didn't we?

Remember the time there was an FBI drug bust next door? I'll never forget that day. A lot of the neighborhood kids were hanging out at our house that summer afternoon. I walked into the kitchen to see you headed out the back porch door. I followed. You proceeded to ask the two men, in suits, with guns, poised to break down the neighbors back door, "What the hell are you doing?!" They motioned to you to be quiet, showed you their FBI badges, and the next thing I knew we were back inside with the doors closed and you yelling "Everybody get down on the floor!" After that there was an awful lot of hoopla next door. Glass shattering, people yelling, guns firing. Then we all ran out the front door to watch the scene unfold as the drug dealer next door took off running from the feds. I remembering you saying you'd like to get on the minibike we had in back and go after that guy. You didn't do it, but the image of it, ah, damn funny.

I was thinking the other day of the different phrases and retorts you often used:

"Let's go, so we can get back." I use this one all the time, only I preface it with "Well, as my mother used to say...".

Me (or any one of us): "Mom, where are you going?"
You: "I'm going crazy. Wanna come along?"

"Ooh, gotta go, potty, potty, potty, potty, potty!" This is usually accompanied by half bent over, cross-kneed walking. To this day, Mom, and probably for the rest of my life, I've adapted this one, too. Somehow, I'm not only compelled to tell the world that I have to use the bathroom, but I have to make an impression on how urgently I have to use the bathroom, too.

"Oh, ish!" Obviously, this was used when you thought something was gross in some way. It's always seemed like a strange word to me. A bit "ishy", if you will.

"Oh, shit in two!" I never understood this. I mean, I get it. But, literally? Not so much. And yet, it stays with me. Though I use my inside voice with this one.

A lot of fun memories. We had some good times, didn't we? I miss you so, but I'm grateful to have all these memories. To be able to look back through the sadness and longing to the laughter.

You liked to gamble. But whenever I went along with you, you would shoo me away, telling me that I bring you bad luck. In Vegas, just you and I, I wandered the casino most of the night while you played the slot machines. Every time I would wander back you would send me along my way again, lest I ruin your winning streak. It was all in fun, of course. But you were still pretty serious. It inspired me to pen a poem about it.

ODE TO CAROL, THE GAMBLER

There once was a woman named Carol
Who dreamed of mucho dinero
She liked to play the slots and the lotto
She'd lose, then she'd win a lot, oh!

Don't give her those quarters
Don't give her those nickels
Some Saturday night
She'll end up in a pickle

Don't give her those dollars
Don't give her those dimes
Silver dollars, oh, boy!
She likes how they chime

As they drop in the slot
And the wheels go a-spinning
She can feel it deep down
She'll soon come up winning

She'll play all the day
And far into the night
You'll lose her 'round the corner
Yeah, she puts up a fight

But sooner or later
Probably later, I say
She'll come stumbling out
Somewhere about the break of day

With a hand full of dollars
Or a hand full of nothing
Her fingers all dirty
From her lottery lovin'

You might as well let her
She don't kill or steal
But watch out if you get
In the way of that wheel

(c)1997

This Mother's Day will be the first without you here, Mom. And, like every day since you died, I'll be missing you. We will be missing you. But we'll be remembering, too. And, hopefully, the laughter will drown out the tears. It is the best medicine, after all.

With lots of love on Mother's Day.

Kimberly

Something really Bugz me today...

2011-05-05T18:32:00.000-05:00

There are ants in my bathroom. At first there was one. I kind of let it slide. I didn't want to kill it. In recent years I've developed an acceptance of some of the critters that used to really frighten me. A spider in the basement once meant a high-decibel scream for someone else to come along and "take care of it". After that I'd feel all creepy-crawly, and I'd avoid the basement for days.

I've mellowed a bit. I can let most spiders slide. After all, they are supposed to eat other bugs, including, eck, centipedes. So, I've learned to appreciate a spider or two (centipedes, never!).

The past few summers have yielded ants. The source of entrance pretty obvious, doorways, open windows. I don't like to use harsh or toxic chemicals in my home, for my safety, the environment, and, of course, my pets safety. So, I use vinegar. Spray undiluted vinegar along the doorways, window frames, etc., and it seems to help.

A couple weeks back I noticed an ant crawling in the bathroom while I showered. Like I said, I let it slide. I mentioned it to Joe, who said he hadn't noticed anything. A day or two later there were a couple more. I talked to them. I asked "what are you doing in here? You should be outside". They kind of ignored me. I got a piece of paper, let them crawl on, then took it outside and shook it off. I have the power to remove it without killing it, so why not? I know, some would say I'm crazy. But any time I step on a bug I feel instant remorse. If I can put it outside, I do.

Flash forward another few days, more ants. I mention it to Joe again. He says he didn't notice. I say to look again, and, well, "take care of it". I've just hired a hit man to do my dirty work.

Maybe he did take care of it, maybe not. Couldn't say for sure, since now there are at least a dozen ants in the bathroom and a few are making their way into the rest of the house. I shift into hit-man mode myself and get the fly swatter. I find as many as I can. Then I rinse them down the drain, sweep them up, and mop the floors. I also spray full-strength vinegar in the window frame in the bathroom where I think they're coming in. Take that!

I don't feel quite as guilty this time.

My Etsy Shop is Open!

2011-05-05T17:59:00.000-05:00

Here are just a few of the items I just added to my new Etsy Shop "Parakeet Girl". I want to thank family and friends for the encouragement. I'm very excited to put my creations out there for the world to see, and to purchase, if the case may be. I will be adding new items soon, as well.

Stop in and visit my shop. And, if you have time, persuse all that Etsy shops have to offer. There's so many creative people out there. Such beautiful things to covet. :)

Kimberly

Where is Widget?

2011-04-27T14:07:00.000-05:00

So, Google was happily playing atop some of the wooden CD birdhouses. They are multi-purpose - the birds can chew on them because they are untreated wood, and they hold CD's. Nothing in my office, it seems, is off-limits to the birds. Google recently chewed through my computer monitor cable. He has this thing about power cords. I've lost several sets of cheap headphones to this guy. I don't know what it is about these types of cords, but to Google they are irresistable. We've been through two different telephone sets. We finally found a better place for the unit where he can't get at them. He's clever, you see, and somehow finds a way. Dedicated little stinker. Even more scary is the fact that he could be seriously hurt. So, we are constantly troubleshooting and finding ways to keep dangerous objects from him. Toys? He'd rather chew my latest paperback, magazine, or headphone cord. The magazines, eh, I recycle them anyway. The books, well, I try my best to put them away, but I pay the price if I forget. Good thing I buy most of my books used on Amazon.

Anyway, I digress. Google was playing atop one of the wooden CD birdhouses, cheerfully singing along, when he noticed that Widget was on the windowsill behind the curtain. One of Widget's favorite places to play. So, for several minutes Google kept peeking behind the curtain and chatting to Widget. Not a lot goes on here, but it's cute just the same.

And to think, just last week Widget was chasing Google and he was having none of it.

Never a dull moment with the flock...

Three O'clock in the Morning...

2011-04-20T03:43:00.001-05:00

That's right, here I am, 3 o'clock in the morning, and I can't sleep. The past few days I've been sick with a terrible cold and all I could do was sleep. Now I can't seem to quell the thoughts roaming in and out of my brain. Unable to lull myself to sleep. Might as well just get up and work it out somehow. Then, maybe...

I'm feeling sad. Missing loved ones gone. Today, in particular, I'm missing Pumpkin. One of our precious parakeets. He left us early last fall, just a week after my dear mother passed away. Two losses in tandem. Something strange about it all. I felt so guilty. I missed the signs with Pumpkin. Didn't realize he was ill until it was too late. Though the doc says there probably wasn't much they could have done for him. Still, I feel so guilty. But my mother was so ill and we were taking care of her, sitting by her side. Watching her fade from this earth. When we put together the photo displays for my mom's service there was a photo of my mom kissing Pumpkin. A sweet photo. She loved the birds. Loved my stories about them. Her mother had parakeets all the while my mother grew up, and they brought back fond memories for her. But after she passed away, and we put that photo on the board I discovered the Pumpkin was, indeed, ill. My sister asked me if we should take the photo down. I said no. And yet, a week later, Pumpkin passed away in my arms.

No more will I hear his happy singing. No longer would I see him happily close his eyes and listen to his best friend, Tori, sing to him. Whenever I tucked them in at night I would give him lots of kisses. Not many of the birds let me do this, but Pumpkin did. I'd kiss his belly several times. Take in a big whiff of him. His favorite seeds were anise seeds, and he always smelled of licorice. Ah, Pumpkin. I would bury my nose in his feathers and just breathe him in. I try not to dwell on it, but I miss him.

If only we didn't have to lose the ones we love. I miss my mother every day. Think of her all the time. Think of my father nearly as often. I wish for a sign somehow. A way to know that they are okay, and that they miss us as we miss them.

These past few days while I've been sick with this cold I've slept a lot. Yesterday, I napped in the afternoon. Couldn't seem to stay awake, though I tried to. Google, my little angel of a cockatiel, kept watch over me. He doesn't like to be far from me. So I brought his playgym, food and water with us into the bedroom, and he hung out while I napped. From time to time I would awake to see him sitting patiently on my pillow, just watching me. Ah, the guilt. But, also, how touching. Who would think such a creature could be so sweet and kind and loyal?

While I napped I dreamed of more birds. That there were more birds in more cages in different rooms in the house. Though it wasn't our house but some dream world house with flowing doorways, and bright windows, and my parents and my sisters in tow. I somehow knew that I was dreaming and kept trying to wake, but could not. Then, I felt someone sitting on my bed. Felt them sitting down, then getting up. Then sitting again.

Mom? Is that you? No one there. Not that I could see. But, was it? Please let it be so.

And, tonight, as I lay in bed, sleep just wouldn't come. But the thoughts did come. Sad thoughts. Regret. Anxiousness and worry. About the past, about the future. Dread at the thought of losing anyone else. Then the rationale that with love comes loss, no matter who you are or what kind of life you lead, or how long you live. And being brave enough to love, even though, at some point, you may lose that love somehow, will prove to be worth it. For, what is a life worth if there is no love in it somewhere? No matter how small, or how simple. So, I tried to turn the tide of my thoughts from worry to gratitude. And, truly, that is no small feat when you are in the midst of a worry-tide.

But, worry be damned, I do have blessings in my life. So much to be grateful for. A husband who loves me, and tells me so every day. Sisters I love, and who love me, though we are all so different (and yet, often quite the same). Nephews, nieces, and a great-niece due just about any day. I have wonderful friends and other relatives who have come back into our lives from a distance. In-laws who are kind and sweet and welcome me into their lives. My beautiful birdies who bring me joy and song every day. I have memories of those that have gone, and pictures and music to remember them by. I am blessed. Truly.

But, I'm afraid, it's not that easy. Since I was a small child I can recall lying in bed at night overwhelmed with worry. It was as if I was born worrying. I worried about my sisters. What would happen to them if we had to go to separate schools? What if they were hurt? If someone was mean to them? What about my parents? What if something happened to them? What would happen to us, then? I knew nearly nothing of the world yet, and there I was, spending half my night fretting about what was to come. How could that be? Maybe we really are born with those traits. Maybe I had instincts I wasn't aware of yet. Who knows.

So, I will lay in bed tonight, and in many nights to come, and I will pray. Because it's the best I can do. Pray for those that I love. For those that they love, and on, and on, and on. Eventually, I just pray for God to look after the entire world. Gee, I don't ask for much, do I?

I could try counting sheep, but then I'd start worrying about the sheep, and then the cows, and the chickens, and, well, you get the picture. I've got enough on my mind.

Sweet dreams...

Chasing Google

2011-04-19T12:38:00.000-05:00

Little Widget. She's a doll. Precocious, too. She's taken to racing the other birds around the room. One of her favorite places to roost is on the windowsill. Browser, whose flying skills are quite improved, now likes to join her there. Another pastime of Widgets: chasing Google. Herewith, a video of such an occasion. Google doesn't seem to enjoy it so much. However, the other day he was playing peek-a-boo with Widget while she was on the windowsill. He kept peeking behind the curtain to see her and talk to her. A video of that is forthcoming. For now, Chasing Google...

Enjoy!

If I Were a Bluebird...

2011-04-09T01:42:00.000-05:00

Funny how music can evoke the essence of someone. Today, while doing some cleaning, I was going through a pile of CD's, and came across a CD compilation I put together for my father many years ago. It was the fall of 2003, in fact, and he was losing the battle against cirrhosis of the liver. His had given out and there wasn't a thing they could do.

He and I had been estranged for several years , and it was strange to think that this was really happening, and without time for us to truly reconcile. He lived 10 hours away, and the disease was progressing way too fast. My older sister, Cheryl, was staying with him at the time, so I put together a care package for them, and included the CD.

The one connection we always shared was music. Even at the worst of times between us, we might still be able to connect by sharing an album or a song. When I put this CD together I considered deeply what songs he would enjoy in one way or another. Some were nostalgic, and some just spoke to his likes and the situation at hand. An homage to memories of moments past, a tribute to the one major bridge between us.

So, when I found the CD today, I had to play it. It brought to mind the way I felt at the time I made it, the tears that were shed as I assembled the tracks, imagining my dad listening to it, and what he would think of each song. It was, in a way, a long distance I love you.

Many of the tunes conjure images of days at the cabin on White Ash Lake. We spent many weekends there growing up, and I can remember fishing from the rowboat with my dad. Or fishing off the dock, reeling in sunfish and perch. The sun on the water, the breeze through the trees, the laughter of children, the grown-ups playing horse shoes and telling stories. Sometimes there would even be music - my aunts playing ukelele and accordion, everyone singing along to songs like "You are my sunshine". Bright days...

I recall sleeping on the cabin porch, my parents in the bed across the way. The air so fresh. The night sky laden with stars. And, then, the sound of the birds early in the morning, the chill at the first light of day. I listened to the adults talk over coffee and eggs in the morning, my mom and my grandmother catching up on grown-up things.

A few of the selections on the disc stand out to me...

"Bluebird", by Emmylou Harris, brings to mind the many miles my father traveled for work. He drove a great deal of the time, listening to music on his radio, then 8-track, then cassette player, over miles and miles. He acquired a vast collection over the years, and I would often "borrow" an album or two. I would, in turn, make him a tape from time to time, something new for him to listen to.

One of those tapes was of Jennifer Warnes singing the songs of Leonard Cohen - "Famous Blue Raincoat". He loved it. To this day it's still one of my favorite albums, and every time I listen to it I am reminded of my father.

Tom Waits' "Picture in a frame" - Tom's gruff voice, beautiful words and melody, illustrates how I imagine my father's love for my mother to be. When it was young and innocent. Raw and new. Such a beautiful song. I hope he liked it. Saw himself in it the way I saw him.

"Song of Bernadette" by Jennifer Warnes - this one always brings me to the brink of tears. Such emotion, beautifully sung, the strings, Jennifer's golden voice. I know my father loved this song, and I always will. "Every now and then, we try/to mend the damage that we've done/Tonight/Tonight/I just can't rest/I've got this joy here inside my breast/to think that I did not forget/that child/that song of Bernadette".

Amazing bridge, music. Like magic. The sounds and flavors and interpretations infinite - unlike our time here on this planet. My father used to say that Hell was a place where there was no music. I'm inclined to agree.

Forever Changed

2011-04-09T01:15:00.000-05:00

APRIL 7, 2010 -- The change had already begun. But this was the day when it truly became real. The day the surgeon came to us, and with a simple gesture, confirmed that our lives would never be the same.

He used both hands to illustrate the size of the enemy. The demon that had taken up residence, and that they tried to evict. Cancer was the unwelcome guest, and my mother its unwitting host.

That day we learned there was no going back. No way around this traffic jam. No detour. We were stuck. Worst of all, Mom was stuck. Our lives, and, more importantly, her life, were altered forever. She was in a war with the devil called cancer, and we were going to have to guide her through the trenches as best we could.

For years we would talk with her about her health challenges, and she refused to deal with them. Aside from a nasty cold or bronchitis, she wouldn't charge into a doctor's office seeking help. When we tried to convince her that she could be more comfortable, have less pain, discomfort, breathe easier with the right doctors and the right care, she would simply tell us "I'm 70!", as if that age marker meant it's all over - 70 - the end.

As it was, we were too late. The doctor's tried. She tried. We all joined in the fight. But there was no way out, and the demon, cancer, won. And yet, she was so brave and calm, and accepting. She walked through it all with such grace. Forever changed. And now, forever gone.

Our lives are different now. Her absence always with us. Yes, her memories always with us, too. But there is no doubt about it. Nothing will ever be the same.

New Creations

2011-03-27T19:10:00.004-05:00

Here it is, my latest creation. The "Harvest" messenger bag. I'm really pleased with how it turned out. I used a lot of Elsebeth Lavold's Silky Wool yarn for this one. I love how it felted. Nice and tight. Everything has a nice muted, earthy tone. Most of the yarn I purchased at the River Boutique and Yarn shop in Brookfield. The button was purchased there, too. I've included photos of the bag from the front (above), and the back (below). This next photo is of one of the first bags I felted. I started with a chocolate brown wool sweater. I disassembled it, cut the front and back panels and crocheted them together. Then I crocheted onto the piece with other yarns, and then added crocheted pocket pieces, too. This bag is nice and deep and can be worn crossed over your body very comfortably. I'd be hard-pressed to give this one up...

I have more in the works, but posting pictures of my progress helps to keep me motivated.

What do you look for in a handbag?

Kimberly

Taking the Leap

2011-03-23T17:58:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I was out running some errands. Coffee (very important), food (again, important), post office (necessary), Goodwill (just for fun). I found a cool bread box at Goodwill for $4. How cool is that?! It has a roll-top drawer. I've always kind of thought it would be good to have one. Tidy up the clutter on the kitchen counter - half-eaten loaves of bread, rolls, slightly empty bags of chocolate, and so on. So, I took my nifty find and got in line to purchase it.

In front of me was a woman with a cart containing an interesting collection of items. Small shelving units, bits and pieces of crafty kinds of things. She gave me a big smile. Then she went to her register and I to mine. But afterward she stopped me to ask where I got my handbag and scarf. I told her that I made them. She asked if I sold them anywhere and I told her that I planned to, but haven't placed them anywhere yet. She was so excited. So pleasant. We talked for a bit standing near the exit.

Turns out she's an artist and makes jewelry and other things. She's back to school part-time studying art therapy. We talked a little bit about the jewelry she was wearing. About my bags, how they are made. Where I might sell them. She wanted to know how much they were so she could start saving up to buy one. And, she asked for my card. Well, I don't have any cards, but I gave her my number and email. And we agreed to reconnect.

I left the store on cloud nine. Someone, a complete stranger, wanted to purchase something I made. I sold some crochet-embellished gloves at Christmastime, but this was different. I was so excited, I called my sister, Cheryl, to share the news. Then I drove to the shop where I buy a lot of my yarn and showed them the bag, and told them my story. Asked their expertise on pricing. I've been talking with them about teaching a felted bag class, and that discussion was reborn. Perhaps in April.

Anyway, I'm a dreamer. I'm an idea person. But I have a hard time following through on things. Afraid of failure, I suppose. Not atypical. But I'm at that age where if you don't follow some of your dreams where will you be? Where will you have been someday?

So, I'm gathering some of my finished items. I'll put finishing touches on some not-quite-finished items, and get this ball rolling. Today I ordered business cards. So, next time, I'll be ready.

And if it doesn't work out? Oh, you can bet I'll be sad and disappointed. But I'll have lots of presents ready to go come next Christmas. And that wouldn't be so bad either.

At first I couldn't sleep. Now, it's all I want to do...

2011-02-27T14:34:00.003-06:00

Six months. Goes by in a blink. So hard to believe, but she's been gone six months. Oh, how I miss you, Mom. I think of you all the time. And when I'm not thinking of you, something, the smallest thing, brings you back to my mind.

I have been prone to bouts of insomnia during times of stress. All summer long, while you were sick I had trouble sleeping. I tried relaxation, ambien, wine, walks, music. My brain wouldn't shut off, and when it finally did and I started to fall asleep my legs took over and walked miles all night.

I remember the day it changed. Your life was coming to an abrupt end. We had no idea it was going to happen so fast. You never wanted to talk about wills, or power of attorney--things like that. But now we were running out of time. I went to your house and we talked a bit about it again, and decided that I would print everything out for you to read and sign. Then I had to find witnesses to sign the papers. I remembered the name of one of the pastors at the church you and Laura attended and looked him up. Called him. He was so kind and willing to help. He and his wife came by so quickly. I brought out the papers and read them out loud to both you and the pastor and his wife. After reading the will you looked at me and you said "Very Good". One of the last coherent things I ever heard you say.

Then the pastor sat with you and read from scripture. It's not my thing, I'm afraid I couldn't tell you which bit he read. But he read it to you, and then prayed with you. He told you that you would be going to heaven, and you said you"hoped so". He said he "knew so". That's when every fiber in my being calmed. Something went click and I knew that I would actually be able to sleep that night. It was a long day and night. I didn't get home until after midnight. But I did sleep.

I went to work the next morning and by early afternoon the call came from Cheryl telling me that you were truly dying and that there wasn't much time left. I left work and went straight to Oostburg. There were no more conversations to be had. It was true. You were leaving.

And then you were gone.

Afterward I did have trouble sleeping from time to time. But once I slept it was all I wanted to do. It's all I want to do now. I've been a night owl my whole life. I like to sleep in. But it's different now. Sundays are the worst. I tell Joe, when he comes into the bedroom to see me sleeping still, "give me a reason", "what's my motivation to get up and join the world today?". Eventually, I do get up. I do what is necessary, and that's about it. Hey, the vacuuming is done, the bed is made. Whoop-dee-doo.

I'm trying. I really am. I feel ashamed. Other people, normal people, get up early. They get things done. By the time I get going (unless it's a work day) it's already noon. As if I don't already have enough guilt in my life, there's this. I know that I'll stay up late. I'll do some chores, take care of the birds, surf a little web, watch something on Netflix, crochet. But I'm missing the flame, the flicker, the gusto. Maybe it's just winter blues, maybe the spring will make it better. I hope so. In the meantime, I'm in a walking coma.

Everyone is there but Google

2011-02-10T01:49:00.003-06:00

He was probably hanging out with me in another room when Joe snapped this photo of all 8 budgies just hanging out. The two newest inside the cage bottom right are "Widget" and "Browser". They are adapting nicely. Hanging out with the rest of the gang, chattering away, and allowing me to help them when they flutter to the floor as they get used to flying around the room.

So, we have 9 birds now. My nephew, Nathan, visited on Tuesday. When I explained that we have 9, he said that we should really get 1 more so that we have 10. "Mmmm," I said, "we'll see." I don't really think we'll be adding another for some time. But, famous last words...

I was going to log on and blog about the chaos and emotions and uncertainty of my life as of late, but it's late, and I'm tired, and all cried out. So, tonight it will just be a brief introduction to the latest version of the flock, and a wish to all for better days.

So bundle up, friends. It's cold out there. Valentine's Day is soon to arrive. Are you prepared, or are you feeling all "so what" about it like me? I actually like valentine's day. Pretty much always have. Even when I wasn't in a romance. I think it's a great opportunity to let someone in your life know they are special. Man, woman, child. Bird. But this year, I'm not feeling it. Even though I'm grateful for so many people (and creatures) in my life, I'm just not feeling it.

Maybe something will change. Maybe a wash of all gooey V-day sentiment will flow over me.
I'm doubting it. But you never know.

Maybe number 10 will show up and make my day.

Happy Valentine's to all....

Kimberly

The Greatest Fan

2011-01-26T22:22:00.004-06:00

There she is. The Packers' greatest fan. I will never witness anything about the Green Bay Packers again without thinking of her. My Mom.

Over the years her loyalty never waivered. She watched every game. She gathered souvenirs and mementos. She screamed and hollared "Go-Go-Go!" from her living room so loud they probably heard it in Green Bay.

She collected memorabilia. She had her photo taken with Chris Jacke. She had a room in her apartment dedicated to "The Pack". In it she hung posters, schedules, photos, a wooden hand-painted Packer on a swing suspended from her ceiling. She collected stamps, and any limited edition ornament, or keychain. She wore Packer jewelry - earrings with the logo outlined in rhinestones, a pin, something that blinked. She wore a Packer jersey and hat on game day, and for Halloween - going as none-other than the ultimate fan - herself.

She new the players. The plays. She knew the rules, and when the rules were broken. She knew a good call from a bad. She loved the game, and the team. Stood by them no matter what.

She reveled in their victories. Cheered loud and strong when they went to the Superbowl, and dreamed of seeing them go again.

This past year she battled colon cancer and lost. Late in the summer we met with the doctor to discuss her prognosis. To discuss what kind of time she had left. In the meeting she told the doctor she wanted enough time to see the Packers play another season. She wanted to see them go to another Superbowl. The doctor told her she might see the Packers play another season, but, well, the Superbowl was another matter. She laughed. He laughed. We all laughed.
It was a strange day.

Little did we know that day that she wouldn't make it to another season at all. Only two weeks later she was fading quickly away. Much faster than any of us would have hoped or anticipated. The day before she died the Packers played a pre-season game against the Colts. They won. Though she lay unconscious in a hospital bed in her living room, the tv set was on, and the game played as we gathered to be with her. When they won we told her so. The next day she died, and the Packers were short one incredible fan. On earth at least.

As the days moved on we cleared out her things. We sorted through her Packer shrine. Some things we shared, some we didn't. But every bit of it spoke to her enthusiasm for the game and for her team.

Throughout the season my sisters and I would comment on how well the team was doing. We would remark that maybe Mom was up there somewhere guiding the Packers to a Superbowl. We would joke that we could almost hear her cheering them on from somewhere in the crowd. That maybe now she was on the sidelines with our Dad, pushing them closer and closer to victory. Sprinkling some kind of magic over the field.

So far it seems to be working. Mom's favorite team is going to the big game. The Superbowl. Just as she'd hoped. Just as millions of other Packers fans hoped. A dream come true.

And yet, I can't help but feel melancholy. Sad that she didn't make it to see it here with the rest of us, on earth. Missing her every day. Thinking of her with every mention of the team, and the big game.

All I can do is hope that wherever she is, she'll be watching. My dad sitting beside her. Both of them cheering and screaming and yelling "Go-Go-Go!". Praying for a win.

I'll be praying, too.

2010: What a Stinker

2011-01-01T13:54:00.003-06:00

I don't know about you, Dear Reader, but 2010 was like an assault on my olfactories - what a stinker! Not to mention (but I will) the fact that it left a very bitter taste in my mouth, and a permanent wound in my heart and soul. Good riddance, I say. Foreword, ho! 2011, give us your best, why don't ya?

I'm sure time and better days will soften 2010 in my memory. But what's the harm in laying the blame for tough times on something as inocuous as a year? It doesn't point fingers at anyone in particular. Doesn't lay blame on anyone's doorstep. It gives us a common enemy. Connects us in a way that nothing other than, say, the weather can. It's ubiquitous, and yet, it doesn't name names.

Across the globe we're making resolutions for the new year. Eat better, be nicer, work harder or maybe, work less. Travel. Explore our artistic side, or be practical and get organized, be proactive, get healthy, or just stay healthy. I could go on and on...

But I think I'll just keep it simple. I'm going to try to leave the bitter of 2010 behind, but take the goodness of it with me into 2011. There were some very difficult, very sad times in 2010. But there were some warm and wonderful people that made those times bearable. That helped me to laugh, and reason, and hold on.

So, this one last time I'm going to give 2010 the stink-eye. And, now, onward...

Wishing you all a very Happy (and stink-free) New Year!

Love,
Kimberly

What the Elf? It's Christmas already?!

2010-12-15T19:32:00.003-06:00

I recently had the pleasure of spending an afternoon with the two elves above - Ben Jr. and Nathan. We took them sledding, then to Starbucks for hot chocolate and coffee (the coffee was for me...). For the past few years the boys have come by for an afternoon or evening at our house while my sister Jackie and her husband Ben do a little Christmas shopping and spend some time together. It's becoming a new tradition. One day they won't want to hang out at Aunt Kimberly's house, but for the time being, they seem to find it fun. I'll take it.

I don't know how the holidays came up again so quickly. The older I get the faster the days pass by, it seems. I feel like it was just spring, and now I'm scraping ice off the windows of my car, and wrapping Christmas presents (okay, truth be told, I haven't wrapped a single present yet, but I will...I will...).

For many, many years, I would put together a Christmas CD compilation to send as a Christmas card to family and friends. Sometimes I would even include an original recording on said compilation. I'm afraid, this year, it's just not going to happen. I have a track list, but the work just never got done. Maybe next year...that said, my Christmas greeting will come in the form of a blog post this year. Hey, I know it's not the same as good old-fashioned hand-addressed Christmas cards, but it's what I got...

I don't know about you, dear readers, but I'll be happy to see 2010 go on its way. This year has been a difficult one. And I know I'm not alone in that sentiment. It's been a tough time for many. Most notably, my mother passed away this year, and I am missing her terribly. We lost one of our darling birdies, dear Pumpkin. I have friends who have lost parents, and other loved ones this year. Friends who have lost jobs, suffered illnesses, broken hearts, disappointments. It has not been the best of years, and I, for one, will be happily celebrating on New Year's Eve when the clock strikes 12:01 am, January 1, 2011.

Yet, despite the trials and tribulations of this life, I have much to be thankful for. I have a new appreciation for my family and friends. I have a renewed love for my sisters. Each one special and magnificent in their own way. I am grateful to have them in my life.

I am grateful for the friends and family that were there for me this year, when times were tough and my mom was slipping away. I'm grateful for my niece and nephews. For the spark of life they bring to the world, and the hope they instill for tomorrow, and the day after that.

I am grateful for my husband, Joe. His patience is limitless, his love always there, his sense of humor often tested, and his arms ever warm and comforting.

I'm grateful for my flock. Sure, I have to wear "poop shirts" on a daily basis, but what's that compared to the sunshine they bring to my day? Just watching them play can make me feel better after a difficult day.

I know there are good days to come. Bad days, too. Still, I'm blessed. My virtual stocking full, come Christmas morn. And every morning thereafter.

Wishing you blessings and strength of heart and hope for the coming year.

Love,
Kimberly

Sunrise River Farewell

2010-11-11T21:26:00.001-06:00

Click here to view this photo book larger

You Can't Fool Me

2010-11-11T00:36:00.004-06:00

Damn, I miss her. My Mom. How is it we go on, day after day, and she is no longer here? No telephone can reach her. No email, no Facebook post. No US mail, either.

It's will be three months, come Thanksgiving. We had hoped she would live to see Christmas. Maybe even the Superbowl. No such luck. She's gone, and there is nothing can be done about it.

I miss her. I've wanted to call her so many times. I've had news to share. Funny stories to amuse her with. I miss her laugh. I miss making her laugh.

Since I was a child, one of favorite things was to be able to make Mom laugh. No matter what it took. Whether it was singing a goofy song, ratting my hair out in a pseudo-fro, or dressing up in way-too-oversize overalls and talking with a bad southern accent, I loved making her laugh. If I could make her laugh, everything would be okay

Even in those last months, when things were so serious and scary, I wanted to make her laugh.
To amuse. Divert her attention. Ease her mind. Ease my own. And sometimes it worked. Laughter does heal, after all. But not enough.

I keep hoping to dream of her, at least. To have some sleep-driven conversation. To hear her laughter. Especially when she would laugh so hard it was followed-up at the end with a big, long, snort. I want to see her face. I want to hug her again. Hold her hand again. Travel cross-country with her again.

I know, I know, I can carry her in my heart. Memories will always keep her near. But you can't fool me. It's not the same. And, not for nothin', but that ain't funny.

Sunrise River Farewell

2010-10-03T14:45:00.006-05:00

It was a chilly day in October. The autumn colors vivid. The sun bright. The sky clear blue. We gathered together...daughters, spouses, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, dear friends. We walked onto the bridge at the Sunrise River to bid farewell to my mother. Her final wishes were that her ashes be scattered here. To the same river my father's had been scattered seven years before.

This place had been special for both of them. He grew up fishing here, hunting here, playing with friends and family here. Years later, he brought my mother here, and, eventually, all of his daughters, too. We would picnic near the river. Walk through the old Sunrise Cemetary a short distance away. It was peaceful. Beautiful. Just the smell of the place a happy memory.

And so, little more than a month after Mom passed away, we made this journey. We gathered on the bridge over the flowing river. We were more than twenty. One by one we stepped forward and gathered her ashes in our hands. One by one we stepped to the side of the bridge, opened our hands, and released the grains of a precious soul into the water. Watched her dust dance in the wind, land on the sun-dappled water and flow away.

We hugged. We cried. We talked. We shared memories. We honored her wishes. Bid her farewell. We traveled from near and far. Carried her ashes to the river, released them, then carried her home in our hearts.

Sadness Upon Sadness

2010-09-04T14:39:00.003-05:00

Pretty Boy Pumpkin

8-24-06 to 9-4-10

As if my heart wasn't breaking already, we have lost another beautiful soul. My beautiful birdie Pumpkin. His illness came on suddenly. There was nothing we could do but make him comfortable. The vet tried. We tried. I held him in my hands this morning and talked to him softly as he passed away. My husband and I both cried. His playmates will miss him. We will miss him. I will miss him incredibly. He has been a spunky, cheerful, faithful friend. He was Tori's best friend. The flock will never be the same. But we will love them all. And we will talk of Pumpkin every day.

Maybe he is perched right now atop my mother's shoulder. Both gone within one week. My heart aches with sorrow.

We love you, Pumpkin.

Long Distance Call

2010-09-02T19:53:00.003-05:00

Carol A. Walker 12-1-1937 to 8-27-2010

About 40 years ago my mother experienced something life-changing and profound. The loss of her mother. It left her with a heavy heart, and a lifetime of longing for the connection that was lost with her departure from this earthly plane.

Over the years Mom often remarked that she wished that there was a phone line to heaven so she could call and talk to her mother. To ask for advice, share a triumph, share a joy. Just to hear her voice.

I never truly understood how that felt...until now.

I'm lucky. I had my mother much longer than my mother had hers. She was only in her early 30's when her mother died. So we've had more time together. More experiences. More laughter. More heartache. More joy. But there is never enough time.

Over the past many months my sisters and I have been by my mother's side. We witnessed her bravery in battling disease. We witnessed her strength, her love, and her everlasting sense of humor. At the end, her ability to accept her fate amazed me.

A few weeks ago, as we discussed her final wishes, I asked her if she'd had any messages from beyond. She smiled and said "not yet".

As my sisters and our families gathered around her during her last few days we talked to her. Cared for her. Shared memories. Told her how much we loved her. Told her that we would take care of each other, and that we would be okay. It was okay for her to go.

During that time she told us that my father had called on the phone and said that "everything would be all right". Just a few days later she left this world.

So now here we are. Sad. Tired. Longing for a woman who was so kind, so caring, so warmhearted. A loving mother and grandmother, a faithful sister, aunt and friend, and a wonderful, witty, and incredible human being.

Now we are the ones wishing for that phone line to heaven. Even so, we will go on as she taught us to. We will honor her life by living ours. Looking onward...to life, to family, to friendship, to love. And to the day when we receive her call.

God bless you, Mom.

Blogger the parakeet - he's a real good flyer...

2010-02-26T23:41:00.003-06:00

Blogger doesn't like me to hold him in any way. But, somehow, he has to go into the cage in the morning when I go to work, leave the house, or it is time to go to bed. Our compromise, he sits on one of the playgyms and I tell him to go in the house, pointing in the direction of the cage door. Blogger simply obliges. His flying skills are amazing. Sometimes he'll just hover in front of the entrance for a moment or two. I (finally) decided it was time for video...

How Time Does Fly

2010-02-24T14:31:00.003-06:00

Happy New Year! My how time does fly. It's been forever since I posted last. My apologies for the blog dead zone. Things are busy, and I've been distracted by much.

The birds are doing well. We've added a couple more feathered children to our flock. Miss Mozilla and Miss Cookie. The little ladies joined the family in late October as a belated birthday gift to myself. I think the boys were glad for the female company. Miss Mozilla (in green and yellow) gets a lot of attention from the gentlemen. She's a bit older. Miss Cookie is still quite young (but bold and fearless), and has yet to charm the others. They like her, but they dote on Mozilla.

As evidenced in the photo above, all of the gang plays voyeur as Pumpkin works very hard to woo Mozilla. They all try, but it is to Pumpkin she is most receptive.

Google is doing well. Talking more these days. He likes to say "Hello" and "I love you". And we have whistlefests nearly every day. He is quite the character. I have a large coffee mug filled with brightly colored markers. He works very hard to remove them, one by one, from their place in the mug and drop them all over my desk and onto the floor. Such dedication.

Joe continues to feed the wild cats from the neighborhood. They can often be found sunning themselves on the cushions of a couple old patio chairs we left out over the winter. When the sun is high in the sky, they like to nap and preen themselves in comfort. Sometimes there will be three or more and they will bicker for a spot on the chairs.

I've discovered the art of crocheting. I made lots of scarves as Christmas gifts, but recently discovered a very cool yarn specialty shop in Brookfield www.riverboutiqueyarn.com, which is seeing a lot from my wallet these days. Every time I go there I become more inspired. I'm trying to make some new things. My next project will be to try and felt something from what I've crocheted. We'll see how that goes. I hope to post some images of some of my creations sometime soon.

Hope all you readers are doing well. I promise not to wait so long inbetween posts. There are stories to tell after all.

Miss Pixel, our Girl, is Gone 8-24-07 to 9-29-09

2009-10-05T13:55:00.005-05:00

It still seems impossible. I keep looking for her among the rest of the flock. But Miss Pixel is gone. She passed away, unexpectedly, on September 29.

I was scheduled for a complete hysterectomy on September 28. On Sunday, the 27th I noticed Miss Pixel was fidgeting with one wing a bit. Other than that she seemed fine. I watched her for a bit, then picked her up for a closer look. I examined the wing and found a rather large lump on the top inside of her wing. All the birds have been molting, so I did some research and determined for myself that it was possibly a feathercyst, which would need treatment, but wasn't immediately life threatening.

So, Monday, the next morning, before leaving for the hospital for my surgery I called the vet and scheduled for her to be dropped off by my husband, Joe, on Tuesday morning. I explained, and wrote a written note as to what I'd found, and how she had been behaving...good appetite, playful, sleeping fine, etc. I explained to Miss Pixel that Joe would take her to the doctor who would check her wing and make things better. I told her, and all the birds, before I left, that I loved them.

Joe took Miss Pixel first thing Tuesday to the vet, and then came to visit me at the hospital. Mid-afternoon we called and I was able to talk with the doctor, who told me it looked like a benign tumor, and that given it's placement and proximity to the blood supply on her wing, that his recommendation would be to leave it for the time being. As long as she wasn't picking at
it, and it didn't become too large, or infected, that she should be fine. That she seemed fine.
So, relieved, that was the plan. Joe would pick her up in early evening, and come back to the hospital later.

That is what happened. He took her home where she played with the rest of the gang. He put them in together so he could visit me at the hospital, where I was still in and out of sleep from the anesthesia.

When he got home later that night he called me in a panic as she wasn't doing so well. He explained that he put her in the travel cage to rest, but that she was sitting at the bottom of the floor of the cage. The birds often do that in there, as it is a small cage. I recommended that it was best he put her back with the rest of the birds on the platform perch for comfort.

Initially I had gotten the home phone number of our pet shop owners in case of emergency. With all the hustle and bustle of getting to the hospital, and so on, I had neglected to take it out of my wallet to give to Joe. Since I thought Miss Pixel would be better in with the rest of the gang, and I was rather out of it, I didn't call in a nurse to get my wallet out for me. I should have. I really, really should have. I should have called back home.

Joe was in a panic and was watching Miss Pixel closely. He was searching for an all-night animal emergency hospital in the area. By the time he had figured out where one was, she had passed away. He told her he loved her. That we loved her. He covered her and placed her in the travel cage and spent the rest of the night and early morning tossing and turning and unable to sleep.

He showed up very early to the hospital on Wednesday morning. The distress in his face was clear. He told me he was so sorry, but Miss Pixel had passed away. A wave of nausea and disbelief passed over me.

He told me what happened. He blamed himself. I comforted him. I asked a few questions. Explained how could we possibly know. We had just taken her to the vet. We had done the right thing. But had we?

I spend a great deal of time with the birds. I watch them play, clean their cage, their food, water, play gyms daily. They get fresh vegetables and fruits. They have lots of exercise time, and a healthy, toxin-free environment. I like to think that I am very aware of how they are doing.
Tori has had a tough time in the past year, and, so far, seems to have recovered well, and is doing fine.

It's so hard to think we could lose Miss Pixel so suddenly.

She was such a Diva. But the sweetest Diva around. She knew what she liked, where she wanted to sit, sleep, eat, etc. She didn't hold back if she didn't like someone else's behavior or opinion. No one could lecture like Miss Pixel. All the boys tried to woo her. None of them really won her heart. I think she liked it that way. But they all miss her. As do Joe and I.

We found a place in the garden for her. Joe and I covered her in pretty fabric and put in some flowers. We'll find a pretty garden stone and put her name on it. She's near the day lillies. Near the bird feeders. She'll be accompanied each day by the song of the wild birds in the yard. And I will tell her good night, each night, as I tuck the rest of the birds in to bed.

Good Night, Miss Pixel. I love you.

No house this time...

2009-08-27T23:42:00.002-05:00

So, we heard back from the realtor. The house we were interested in has been sold. Disappointment sets in.

We learned something though...that we really do want to move. That we really are ready to start preparations to sell our house and find another. We know we are tired of a few of the troublesome characters in the neighborhood. We'd like a bit more space, a little more privacy, and not to have to deal with an iced-down alleyway in the winter.

We will keep our eyes open...

Just a jumble of things...

2009-08-27T00:24:00.004-05:00

My, my, my that's a lot of birds! Have I gone completely crazy and added a full-sized aviary with residents in tow? No, no...we went to the "Wings Down Under" exhibit at the Milwauke Zoo. It was a good time. Joe could hardly get me to leave. It was hard to keep me from reprimanding others on how to handle birds as well. Joe calls me Parakeet Girl for a reason, I guess. Anyway, we spent nearly two hours in with the birds. More pictures another time.

Once we got home we showered and then visited with our lovely flock. Didn't want them picking up any diseases or anything from the zoo gang. Just need to be careful.

We've been busy being a bit lazy, actually. We had a Tiki Garden Party a couple weekends ago, there was a lot of prep, and afterwards, after a successful and lovely party, we just sort of crashed and took it easy. Now I've got to get back to getting things done.

I finally saw a new doctor about my fibroid situation. She is wonderful. It was such a breath of fresh air to really be listened to. To have someone on my side, and to have good suggestions, and the time to explain my options. Unfortunately, given the pain I'm in pretty much all the time now, and the size of my fibroid and uterus, the best option I have is a complete hysterectomy. Joe and I talked it over. The deal is, let's just get this done and move on. Time for me to feel better. I expect my general energy level and sense of well-being will improve big time once this is over. I hope so. Hopefully, the surgery will be completed by end of September or early October. Just in time for my 46th birthday. I'm feeling old for so many reasons...

In other news...Joe and I happened by a house for sale last weekend on the Root River Parkway in West Allis. We really haven't been looking, but talk about it now and then. Especially when we get frustrated with our neighbors, or the snow plow situation in the alleyway. Anyway, we liked the look of the place, so I looked it up. It seems to be a great deal, probably due to the present economy for one thing. But it also looks to need some work.

It's a 50's style, masonry and frame house. On a lot of land. Lots of trees and privacy. Kind of has a Frank Lloyd Wright feel. Was built in 1953. We're trying to get in to see the inside before deciding to pursue it.

If it doesn't work out we'll be fine. But the idea is pretty darn exciting. And nerve-wracking. A hysterectomy and a new house all in the next few months? Isn't that how things go???

More soon...

Whistle Duet

2009-08-02T21:10:00.005-05:00

Google likes mischief. As evidenced in the photo here. He was impatient and wanted a snack, so decided to dive into the food bin instead of waiting for me to freshen up his dish. He's good at mischief.

Another thing Google is good at is whistling. Originally I started trying to teach him "Funkytown". He tried, but it sort of morphed into his own call. So, now, when he's in the mood, he whistles and I follow instead. Next up, I'll work on the harmony part.

In the meantime, check out this short video of Googles whistling talents.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ht_d5nLhSB4

Enjoy! And thanks for watching!

Wild Kitten Update

2009-07-25T22:42:00.004-05:00

Just figured it was time for a quick "wild kitten update". Here are two of the three siblings that have been visiting our backyard garden this summer. Of course, Momma visits, too. These two decided that an afternoon lounging on the backyard swing was on their agenda. Don't they look comfy?

Joe dutifully puts out fresh food and water for them each evening. Then he keeps watch to see when they come by, alerting me when they visit. Once in a while we happen upon them when we are outside. They won't really let us get very close, but they will rest comfortably, like lions in the tall grass of the jungle, beneath the vibernum bush in the corner of the backyard.

I love having them here. I openly wonder where they are on days when they don't come by. Partly worried that something has happened to them, or that they've found better accommodations. Surely we have the nicest spot on the block, don't we? Why would they want to hang about elsewhere? Really, Kimberly, jealous of anyone else in the neighborhood with wild and adorable visitors? Yeah, that's me. I don't lose any sleep over it though.

Not yet, anyway.

The Parakeet Tree

2009-07-25T22:20:00.004-05:00

Last winter I got this great idea to make a tree for the birds. Along the lines of a coffee mug tree, but sized bigger for the birds. Using a drill and saw aren't exactly my strong points. I can drill a hole, no problem. But drilling and cutting and assembling to specifications, that's a bit of a challenge for someone clumsy like me.

So, after several tries at getting the diameter of the holes right for putting the smaller dowels through (and working out how to drill the hole without destroying the post), I was finally able to assemble the piece. It's not as stable as I'd like it to be, but it's pretty good. I thought about painting it with food coloring or kool-aid, but haven't gotten 'round to that yet. In the meantime, I set it up next to the big playgym on one of the desks in birdland and waited to see what would happen.

Over the next couple months the birds began using it. One, maybe two at a time. But, lately, and it seems more often close to night-night time, they've all been flocking to the tree. I'll realize they've gotten quiet and I hear them grinding their beaks quietly, then turn from the computer to see the tree branches full. The Parakeet Tree is a success.

It seems they think they should be able to sleep there all night. Something I haven't permitted. But, you know, it kind of makes sense. In the wild I'm sure they congregate in trees, settling in on branches, well camouflaged by leaves and flowers, and drift off to sleep there. So, it seems right that they've taken to filling in the branches on The Parakeet Tree each night.

Plus, it makes a great photo.

Just a little frustrated...

2009-07-22T17:59:00.004-05:00

It's emotional pain I struggle with. Emotional pain I hate. Physical pain, I can deal with...to a point, of course. Part of my genetics, I think. Part of being a woman, too. You just suck it up and deal with it. I'm always bumping into things, scraping myself, poking myself with something, falling off chairs, you name it. Miraculously, I've never injured myself to a point of breaking something, losing a limb, or poking an eye out. Never had to have stitches, other than for corrective foot surgery, or dental surgery. So, pretty lucky.

I never had kids. Joe and I met when we were both in our late 30's, just barely. By the time we settled in together, and then got married, we were well into our 40's. Neither of us had strong reproductive longings...(ok, I do once in a while...but I have friends and family with little ones to cure those). So, we have 7 birds. Those are my kids. Oh, plus Joe.

Anyway, I've never been pregnant. Never gone through the joy and the miseries of 9 months of gestation. So, it's hard to relate. But in the past few years I've had some female issues come into play. And, now, I'm feeling a bit unpleasant.

Several years back I was diagnosed with a fibroid...one of those "female tumors"...I didn't have much of a problem with it at the time. But since then it has grown, and grown, and grown. I've had a few ultrasounds to diagnose the position and size. It's on the exterior of my uterus, on a stalk, growing out and about. The last check showed it to be nearly up to my belly button. The size of two grapefruit, or something like that. But I've been lucky, and only had occasional discomfort.

I've had some frustration with the doctor's office I was going to. First they made a big deal about the fibroid..."Oh, you need to have another ultrasound, since it's getting bigger". Let me tell you this, those ultrasounds are not exactly pleasant. There's poking and prodding, and, soreness afterward. It's much less invasive than other things, I know. Plus, the cost isn't exactly small beans. We have insurance, but it doesn't cover all of it. Not close enough by me, anyway.

Anyway, after I had the test I called to find out the results. They acted like it was an imposition to find the results and confer with me. And, to top it all off, I never even talked or met with the actual doctor in the office. Her assistant did the exam, recommended the test, and then couldn't remember who I was later. They told me that the test showed there really wasn't much change, and that we should just "wait and see. The doctor would like to examine you herself next time, she may have a different take on the situation. Come back in 6 months or so." Oh.

Now, I'm not all fired up to be cut open. I've done my research. I know these things, generally, aren't lethal. They cause problems for many, but not all. I'm well into my 40's, and perimenopause, and hot flashes, are common visitors in my person these days. It's known that these things can shrink after menopause. But that could still be 5-10 years away. In the meantime...

I haven't really done my job of finding a new doctor. I did find a great GP, whom I trust. The past few weeks I've been having some pain. Hot flashes. Pain radiating from my abdomen up, some back pain, and it has been waking me up, and making it a little more difficult to sleep. My cycles are a little goofed up, too. So, I decided to see my GP. Maybe a bladder infection, something like that?

So, I saw the doc this morning. He said there is a slight possibility of an infection, but he doesn't really think so. He checked me over. His instincts are leaning towards the fibroid causing the pain. So, we discussed it further. By his estimation, it's up to my belly button. Or, rather, it has pushed my uterus up to my belly button. Where most women find it once they are in the latter months of pregnancy.

I tried to talk him out of the test. But the discomfort is turning into pain. And I don't exactly like the idea of it crowding out all my other organs. So, I agreed.

But then what? There are a few different options available. But due to the position, and the size of the fibroid, there won't be as many as for some. Do I go on some kind of hormone drug to reduce its size before trying to remove it? Hysterectomy? Myomectomy? Have the blood supply to it cut off and let it die a slow, painful death and then, possibly, have it roam around freely in my body? Not too keen on that.

I'm lucky. I know. It's not cancer. I haven't ended up in an emergency room with an emergency hysterectomy. Hopefully, we'll sort it out and just be done with the whole thing.

It's just been frustrating. I really felt like a number at the one clinic. I'm lucky to have found a GP that I can trust.

Been there? Done that? Wanna share your experience? I'd be happy to hear from you.

Here's what I've been up to lately

2009-06-29T22:41:00.003-05:00

Granted, the "before" photo is a few years old. It certainly didn't happen overnight. But the most recent change - painting the garage - did have a major impact. I'm pleased. It's pretty much what I envisioned. Our little sanctuary in the backyard. Still working on getting a bit more privacy from the alley and the neighbors backyard (chain link fence), but I expect to get there before the end of summer.

I'd never really gardened (or landscaped, if you can call it that) before I met Joe. Never had my own yard to nurture. Joe's family has the gardening gene firmly planted, but it's not something I knew much about. So, of course, I set out to learn. And each year I plant something new, dig up something old and move it, trade plants with friends, attempt to grow things from seed, paint something, search for bargains and alternative garden decor. I've received garden gifts from family and friends. Spent countless hours weeding, digging, shoveling pea gravel, and painting. I've hung candles and lit them all just to see what kind of magic candlelight under a night sky can bring.

It's an amazing thing, planting something in the earth and seeing it grow. Yes, the fruits of labor. Watching the bees buzz from flower to flower, enjoying the sweet smell of trumpet lillies on a summer evening. Their scent wafts through the bedroom window at night...intoxicating.

Butterflies frequent the butterfly bush, the birds pick at the sunflowers. Fireflies flit about in the evening above the freshly cut grass. Sounds like a fairytale, doesn't it? Not quite, but close enough, I suppose. It's somewhere to escape to when the day is done.

So, that's where I've been these past few weeks when I've been short on blogs. I'll be back with more soon.

Happy Summer!

Wild Kingdom

2009-06-19T22:25:00.003-05:00

I love my backyard. I love the garden that we've cultivated over 5 years or so. Love sitting on the swing on a warm, or even cool, evening. But there's another reason...it's wild. Over the past couple years we've been feeding some of the wild cats in the neighborhood and they come to visit. We've never been able to get very close to them, but this season they seem a little braver. We've seen three litters of kittens over the past couple years. One neighbor, who since moved away, rescued several of them. And, yes, we should probably attempt some feral cat rescue/release program. It's on my list, really...in the meantime, we like to make sure they get food and water. And shelter when necessary.

Recently we discovered the latest litter of kittens. There appear to be three. Maybe 6 weeks old. All adorable. Momma cat comes around regularly and I mentioned to Joe a while back that he/she was a bit paunchy and maybe...sure enough...and he is a she.

So, I've been able to get a few pictures. And some video of our visitors. Last week momma cat and the babies were making themselves quite comfortable in our backyard garden. Momma reclining underneath the swing, one of the kittens sleeping sweetly on an old pot, and another underneath a rehabbed birdbath planter. Oh, how sweet.

We had several storms over the weekend, and I haven't seen the furry family since then, but I hope they found shelter somewhere. After all, they don't spend all of their time in our yard. They are indeed welcome visitors, though.

We've got some squirrels in the hood, one famous from a Hallmark card contest entry/finalist of mine. And, of course, lots of birds...finches, cardinals, chickadees, and more. Last year there was a very large possum that happened by. I'd never seen one that big. He'd been eating well, I guess. And there's a neighborhood skunk or two. Joe always worries that he'll go out to feed the cats and there will be a skunk waiting for dinner instead. I keep wishing a deer, or a moose, or something like that would show up sometime. Wouldn't that be exciting? But I'm happy with the wild cats sleeping away the afternoon on the cushion of our backyard swing, or underneath a shady plant.

I have hopes of finding a cute little dog house to add to the garden. One that would give shelter should one of the cats need a bed for the night. I could paint it to blend in nicely with the flowers and greenery. Joe thinks I'm crazy.

What else is new?

Google Shower

2009-05-26T23:22:00.004-05:00

I'd read in some of the bird publications that the larger parrots might actually bathe in a shower. I didn't really think I'd have a bird that would do the same. But Google, it seems, likes himself a nice lukewarm shower. Just a simple spray, whilst sitting on my shoulder, dipping his head and body in to catch the drops.

On workdays, I usually let the birds out to play first-thing so they have time to stretch their wings and have some fun before being inside all day while I'm away at the shop. The 'keets are fine on their own, for the most part. They like birdland and are pretty content to have free reign while I shower. Google, on the other hand, cannot be left on his own. Mainly because wherever we are is where he wants to be. And he is not afraid to fly down to the floor and walk the house looking for us. So, when I shower in the morning, I often bring Google and his playgym into the bathroom with me. He plays contentedly on the playgym, has a morning snack, while I shower and sing to him just footsteps away. He can't see me behind the shower curtain, but he knows I'm there.

One morning, after I'd showered and was toweling off he fluttered into the tub, then walked around with his wings held up and wide. I finally figured out he wanted to bathe, too. I turned on the faucet, wet my hands and dribbled some water over him. Happy bird. Twice this happened. The next step seemed obvious to me.

So, one day when I didn't have to work and could take a little extra time, once I'd finished my shower, I reached out for Google. He obliged. He sat on my shoulder, dipped his head in and out of the gentle spray, fluttered his wings, chirped once or twice, and soon we were done. When I told Joe about this he thought I was nuts. Perhaps you do, too.

Since then Google showers with me maybe twice a week. In fact, one night I was showering after working in the yard all afternoon and could hear Google whistling while hanging out on Joe's shoulder. I whistled back. Google got louder. Soon enough Joe walked into the bathroom and stated that Google wanted to take a shower, too. I put my hand out the curtain and Google hopped on. Happy bird.

The other day Joe was in the shower and I cracked the door open and yelled in that Google wanted to shower with him. "No he does not!" was the panicked reply.

One day...

Google hit the publish button

2009-05-26T21:54:00.002-05:00

I wasn't quite ready, hadn't written a word, actually, when Google decided to play on my keyboard and inadvertantly hit the "publish" button. So, I'm editing the post to at least say that "here is a picture of Blogger and Tori" hanging out on one of the playgyms. Tori has really been watching out for Blogger and Mouse. It's very sweet."

Tempting fate...

2009-05-18T21:34:00.005-05:00

We were down to one med per day. Tori had one bad day a week ago, then was doing well again. Until this morning. I discovered he had thrown up during the night or very early morning. I watched him carefully while I got ready for work. He seemed to be eating fine, flying about. Stopped by to help me dry my hair (don't know why, but he likes to sit on my hand while I dry my hair). I went off to work at least knowing we have an appt with the vet on Wednesday. Maybe this was a fluke. It didn't seem he had thrown up much. The only evidence I had was that his feathers around his face were matted down.

My husband, Joe, got home early today. I called home from work as I was running late. He informed me that Tori had thrown up again. That his face and feathers were really a mess. I asked him to check for evidence in the bottom of the cage, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for. As soon as I got home I went in to see the birds. Tori did look a mess, but he was eating. I took a look at the tray in the cage. There were several piles of thrown up seeds. He'd thrown up a lot. Not a good sign.

I changed my clothes. Picked up Tori, put him on my shoulder. Then we went to the living room. Joe brought Google. The two of them puttered about on the coffee table where we put a small playgym and a small dish of food and water. Tori threw a toy ball off the table several times. He talked to me quite a bit, I expect telling me how crappy his day had been. I sang to him, he sang along. He wouldn't leave my shoulder so I could prep dinner, so I had Joe help me. While dinner was in the oven Tori and I sat with Joe in the living room and Tori took a nap on my shoulder. When dinner was ready he was reluctant to leave me. Finally he went up to one of the playgyms.

Now dinner is over and I'm spending time in birdland. Tori is presently on my shoulder and I am considering having him sleep alone in one of the spare birdhouses for the night. That doesn't always work out so well, though. He usually wants to be with the other birds.

I did call the vet from work before I headed home and he said I could start up the anti-nausea med again. Then we'll check things further on Wednesday. Hopefully that will help Tori feel better in the meantime.

My poor baby. He is such a sweet, sweet boy. It seems every time I blog that he is doing better he relapses. Am I tempting fate? Dooming him to illness? That's crazy talk, I know. But it sure is upsetting and disheartening.

Keep him in your prayers, dear readers. If you don't mind. I love him like you wouldn't believe.

Thanks,
Kimberly

A Sunday Night in Birdland

2009-05-17T23:09:00.003-05:00

It was a busy day in Birdland. Joe and I did not work today, so we were home most of the time, which mean lots of time out on the playgyms and buzzing the room for the gang. Mouse (pictured above) had a big day, as he buzzed the room for the first time. His flight feathers are finally settling in and he is able to fly short distances, and tonight buzzed the room once entirely with the rest of the gang. You could see the pride in his stance after he'd landed on the playgym on top of his house. He was a happy birdy. I gave him much praise and pointed out to the rest of the birds Mouse's achievement. They pretty much ignored me. Still, it was a happy moment.

Tori continues to do better. I can just see it in him. We have a recheck at the vet on Wednesday. I'm hoping for more good news, that his wellness will continue. It's been such a long road. It's so good to see him playing heartily, tossing toys off the playgyms, buzzing the room, sharing secrets with Pumpkin, eating with gusto.

Blogger and Texter seem to have a blast racing each other around the room, flying from playgym to playgym, and buzzing my head while I'm at the computer. Miss Pixel continues to play the field, and now it seems Blogger may be somewhat enamored of her as well.

Texter seems to be making friends with Google. They tend to follow each other around sometimes.

So, all is well tonight in birdland. Everyone is tucked in snug and sleeping away. I'm including a link to a video that gives a sample of the evening. Enjoy if you wish...

Goodnight from birdland...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvrL_mEu8F4

Birds to the left of me, birds to the right...

2009-05-13T22:52:00.002-05:00

Something interesting is happening now that Tori is feeling better. He's returned to some behaviors from the early days, when he first joined the family. He was the sole birdie in the house then, so he spent a lot of time with me. He sat in the living room with me, perched on my shoulder as I went from room to room in the house. He nestled under my chin while I lay on the couch. It was a sweet time. He discovered that sitting on top of my glasses, and, even better, on top of my nose, allowed him a position of parakeet power. Plus, it was damn cute.

This past weekend, Tori had an early bad morning. A little sickness. But improved throughout the day. By Sunday he was much better. And was being very attentive to me. Surprisingly, he flew to my shoulder and stayed there when I left the bird room. Normally, these days, he would fly back to one of the playgyms. This time he went with me. He even went to living room and sat on my shoulder, sweetly, as I watched a few minutes of television.

Not long after that, he and I returned to birdland, where Google joined us. With Google on one shoulder, and Tori on another, I walked to our bedroom where Joe was watching the bird feeders out the window. Both Google and Tori went quickly to Joe. And I snapped some photos.
It's been a long time since Tori was this adventurous. I'm not sure if it's so much that he's feeling better, or a little bit of jealousy over the fact that Google likes to spend more of his time with us humans than with the rest of the birds. Maybe he felt a little competitive. Maybe.

In any case, I'm enjoying the fun, and I'm relieved (yet still cautious) to have my Tori back in better health. It's taken quite a while. I hope it continues.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

2009-05-10T11:43:00.002-05:00

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to my Mom. To a woman who raised four daughters through trials and tribulations. To a woman who now has a total of seven fabulous grandchildren (none of which I contributed). To a woman with a grand sense of humor, and a grand heart to go with it.
I love you, Mom.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to my sisters. Each of whom has brought beautiful children into this world. Their dedication to their children, their ability to seemingly do it all, amazes me. I have one sick bird and I can't sleep at night. I don't know how a mother copes with the worry while raising a child. But they all do it. And each one of their kids is a complement to them and the world. I love you, Laura, Jackie and Cheryl.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to the women I call friends. The gift of nurturing is not exclusive to those with children. You make my life better just by being in it.

Love,
Kimberly

Let the birds sing...

2009-05-06T23:05:00.002-05:00

The good news today from the vet is that Tori has improved a great deal. His weight is back up to his normal, his energy levels are back up, he hasn't vomited, his appetite is back to normal, he's socializing very well, and his crop is clear of all the slime. Huzzah!

The doc thinks there may have been an underlying yeast problem all along, although it didn't show up on the tests until the previous visit. So, we'll continue with the anti-fungal and phase out the anti-biotics. Which means Tori will soon be down to one med per day. Relief for me, and even more relief for him. As long as it sticks.

Texter went along today for his first wellness exam and passed with flying colors. The vet says he is a beautiful specimen of a budgie in every way. Healthy, athletic, good demeanor, and truly beautiful. This Texter seems to know, and work at. He's been known to bathe two times a day! And he relishes his bath, let me tell you. Every inch of him is wet and attended to. He's a poser for the camera, too. He's a good looking boy and he knows it. I told the doc Texter is our metrosexual. Ha! He does have a thing for Miss Pixel, but she's playing both Texter and Pumpkin along. Such a diva!

Anyway, I wanted to let the good news be known. We have a few more weeks of meds and a couple re-checks until we can say this thing is gone for sure, but things sure look better than they did a week ago.

For me, birdsong is a gift. And so is Tori.

Q-tips are for the birds...

2009-05-03T22:58:00.002-05:00

I'm crossing my fingers, and all of my toes. Saying my prayers, counting my blessings, throwing as much love as I can out into the cosmos. It seems to be working. Tori is finally seeming better. Earlier in the week I was very afraid. But the meds must be working. His energy is now more consistant, he's eating well, playing well, and, as far as I can tell (and I check often) he hasn't thrown up again since last weekend. Huzzah!

We still have a visit planned with the vet for Wednesday when we'll find out more. I don't want to take him off any meds until we know this thing is gone. He's such a trooper about taking them, too.

This photo shows Tori and Google playing with one of Google's new discoveries, and one of Tori's old favorites...the Q-tip. There is something so fun about this little wand. They love to pick them up, pill up the cotton tips, then drop them to the floor. I finally had to put the box away since there were so many on the floor and scattered about. I buy all those colorful toys and bells, and they want to play with tissue paper and Q-tips! Sounds about right...

All the rest of the gang are doing well. I think Pumpkin seems relieved that Tori is better. He keeps watch over him, and he seems a little more at ease now. Me, too. Hopefully things will stay that way.

Just wanted to post an update in case anyone has been wondering. And if you've included my little angel in your prayers and good wishes, I thank you.

Kimberly

Good days, Bad days...

2009-04-26T12:10:00.002-05:00

It's a feathered roller-coaster. Each day I watch closely to see how Tori is doing. Some days it seems as if he is better. Last week I became very alarmed because I could tell that he had lost a significant amount of weight. I was terrified. I told Joe about it. He thought I was imagining it. That he was fine. But I could feel it. He wasn't as heavy on my hand, he felt smaller in my grasp when I gave him his meds. Some days he had more energy, it seemed, some days, he seemed so quiet. The moods varied throughout the day.

At work I struggle with the constant anxiety burning a hole in my gut. Trying not to worry about him, or jump to conclusions. I had myself convinced that he has bird wasting disease. A horrible affliction that, basically, starves birds from the inside. They eat and eat, but their bodies don't digest the food, and instead it eats away at the birds muscle, etc., until they die. They lose lots of weight, become weaker and weaker. I did some research online. Cried and cried. Not my baby. Joe said to stop reading the stuff as I was making myself crazy. He has a bacterial infection that is really hard to beat, it will take a while, but it's not wasting disease.

I had set up an appointment with the vet for my day off. We went. I was so nervous. I immediately told the doctor about my worries. He said that wasting disease is still pretty rare, that Tori would not have been exposed to it where I got him (and the rest of the birds), and that I should put it out of my mind. I told him he might have to take MY pulse in a minute, since my fingers were tingling, my stomach was burning, my cheeks were hot. I felt sick to my stomach. He checked Tori over. They found bacteria, still, which wasn't a surprise. And some yeast. So, they cleaned out his crop (not fun for Tori), and added another, anti-fungal, med to his regimen for the next couple weeks.

I took Tori home relieved that he didn't have this horrible disease. He slept quite a bit that night, and I chalked it up to the trauma of the crop-cleaning. It's stressful on a bird. They are fragile creatures.

Over the past few days Tori has been playing with the rest of the gang quite a lot during the day, but by evening, he seems quite tired, and goes off by himself sometimes. I've been trying to get them all to bed a little earlier. Tori needs the rest, and with the extended daylight, they've all been extra wild. So, a little extra rest won't hurt them either.

Today Tori seems very, very quiet. I gave him his meds. Took two tries to get it in him. I put him inside the big bird house with the heating pad dialed up a notch to keep him warm. He wants to come out, but I think he needs the rest. I'll keep him in there a while, just so he is undisturbed.

My fingers are tingling, numbing. My stomach is in turmoil. I am trying to think positive. I love this little guy so much. I hate to see him miserable. He is such a good thing in my life. Such an angel. I'm praying every day now. Over and over. Please save my Tori.

Please, save my Tori.

On the road to Wellville...

2009-04-17T11:29:00.004-05:00

It appears Tori is getting better. I've decided to go the long, extended route with the meds just to be sure. Doc said we could do 2 to 4 weeks of antibiotics. We're going with the 4. As stressful as it is to get the meds in him, I want to wipe this bug out so that my baby can stay healthy.

He seems to be playing more. He's more playful. Hasn't thrown up in a week now. Thank goodness. I just pray he continues to get better and better.

The rest of the gang are good. Mouse and Blogger are coming out to play more often. Blogger is quite a good flier and isn't far behind the rest. His landings are still a bit rough sometimes, but he's definitely getting the hang of it. Mouse still flutters to the floor a lot. He's making it short distances, though. And he loves, loves, loves spinach!

I suppose, to many people, they make a lot of racket. But their calls, chattering, and fluttering are music to my ears. Sometimes I watch them fly and play and sing and, corny as it sounds, it just makes me happy.

Just thought it was time for an update...

Tori, Tori, Tori...

2009-04-07T21:21:00.003-05:00

That's my Tori, as a baby, enjoying his first bit of cucumber. It is a favorite of his, along with broccoli and carrots. He's an expert food flinger. Well, they all are. But Tori can fling with the best of them, I'll tell you that.

This morning I was troubled to see that Tori was vomitting again. He's been on the new anti-biotic four days now, and I was hoping he was feeling better. I could tell by watching him that he was trying hard to stifle the need to vomit. Finally, it won over. This was even more upsetting as I had to leave for work, and couldn't stay with him. I tucked him in with his buddies, kept the heating pad on low, and went to work.

I cried on the way there. I cried once there, telling my boss and co-workers about Tori's further ailment. I called the vet and asked what next. When I talked with him this afternoon we recapped the last time out with this infection, and how we ended up doing two meds simultaneously, an anti-biotic, and a med for helping to curb the vomitting and nausea. I queried him like a frantic mother, asking what might I doing that could cause this. What if this, what if that...he reiterated that last time we used this combination it worked.

I picked it up after work and just gave Tori his meds an hour ago. He is sitting atop one of the playgyms now, chattering with the rest of the gang. Google is next to him, singing and whistling, too. Maybe he will feel better. I have to admire his determination even in distress. He wants to be out and about with the other birds.

But tonight, I will tuck him in a cage on his own, with the heating pad going and a nice cozy blanket to keep out any cold air. He needs rest.

God, I hope this works. The thought of him not being with us is just too hard to bear. I'm saying another prayer (and another). If anyone is reading this, would you mind saying a prayer, too?

Thank you.

Little Victories

2009-04-06T23:51:00.005-05:00

Progress. That's what little Mouse and Blogger are making. Aren't they cute? Blogger was sharing some seeds with Mouse when I took this photo. They bicker sometimes, mostly when fighting for the same spot on a perch, but otherwise, they are tight. And these days, they are both coming out to play with Tori and the gang. In fact, tonight Mouse climbed out and up to the top of his house, and Blogger flew out, around the room, and up to one of the playgyms. Twice. Both even took the time to explore Google's new house, too.

Now when Mouse flutters to the floor because he's still light on flight feathers, he allows me to pick him up. Or, really, he steps up onto my hand and let's me escort him upward. It's amazing progress. They still don't like it when I try to go inside their house to bring them out, but, if I'm patient, that will come in time. It took a long time for Texter to allow me to do that. He let's me bring him out, and tuck him in at night. Other than that, he makes the call. So, I'm feeling encouraged at this progress. A week ago I was feeling a bit sad and overwhelmed. Wondering if I would do them justice. Presently, it seems, we're doing OK.

Tori seems to be feeling better since starting the new meds. At least he hasn't thrown up since Friday. It's only been a few days, but I hope this continues. He looks a bit rough. He's got some new pin feathers around his face, and the rest are kind of mucked up from the sticky medicine. I'm trying very hard to get every drop in him, but it's a challenge. The vet tech showed me a better way to administer the meds, and it's helping. I hope. I'm trying not to obsess about the lump the doc talked about. Hoping that it's just a wayward fat deposit and it will go away with time, exercise, and more fruits and vegetables. I'm praying.

Tomorrow I'll go and donate blood, try to keep the good karma flowing.

The rest of the gang seemed to have a good day, too. Pumpkin and Google seem to be trying to become friends. One or the other will make an effort, it seems to take for a moment, then one of them gets skittish. They're still getting there, I think.

Texter seems to delight in "stalking" Miss Pixel. His games of "I'm not touching you...am I bothering you?" seem to irritate, and delight, her at the same time. Ah, relationships...

In our neighborhood there is a family that has a parakeet. During the summer I would drive by their house and notice they had their parakeet, in it's cage, hanging outside on their porch. It always caught my eye. I worried they wouldn't bring it in soon enough. That the temperatures would drop in the evening, the bird would get a chill, then get sick. I'm aware that a lot of bird owners/lovers take their birds outside. There are differing opinions on this, and I can respect that.

However, on my way home from work tonight, nearing 7pm, I drove by their house and saw their parakeet outside. Officially, it's spring, but weather-wise, it isn't. The temperature at that time was a mere 36 degrees (F)! I damn near slammed on the breaks a-la Fred Flinstone. I thought, maybe they cleaned the cage with bleach and water and put it outside to air out or something. But it was nagging at me. I drove around the block and went back. Sure enough, the bird was in the cage.

I was fuming. Shaking, even. There was no way I could go home without taking action. I parked the car and walked up to their front door and rang the bell. A young woman answered. I'm not sure how much english she can speak. It was a short conversation. I simply said hello, and that I noticed their bird was outside. Somehow she misunderstood me and thought I said their dog had gotten outside. She went to look for the dog. I tried to explain, pointing, that I was concerned about the bird (I could hear the dog barking inside). She said it was her brothers. He came out. I greeted him. Explained that I live in the area, that I have many parakeets, and that it was too cold for the bird to be outside today.

He insisted, the bird is happy. He likes to be outside. I said, "Yes, but not today. It's too cold. Not until it's warmer." Then I just asked him, "Please, please take him inside. It's too cold. I don't want him to get sick." He humored me. He took the bird inside. I said "thank you".

Perhaps they think I'm crazy. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe parakeets can withstand those kinds of temperatures. I have to admit, the bird wasn't puffed up like it was cold. But I did notice that, unlike my spoiled feathered children, he had no toys in his cage. I'm fighting the urge to gift that bird with a few.

I didn't get the impression that they didn't care about the little budgie. In fact, I'm pretty sure that they are putting the bird outside because it likes it. I admit, when I drove by in the summer, it seemed to be singing happily on its swing. But still, it was only 36. Near freezing. I couldn't, in good conscious, let it go. Maybe they'll wait until spring really does arrive to put him out again. I hope so.

I don't know if it's age, peri-menopause, life experiences, or just neurotic tendencies, but I'm finding it harder and harder not to act on things like this. I suppose I could just mind my own business, but I do like to sleep at night. And if I was wrong to butt in, well, I can live with that better than I can a frozen, innocent, little bird.

My heart is breaking...

2009-04-03T23:58:00.008-05:00

Tori and I made the trip to the vet today to have him checked further since he is still throwing up large quantities of slimey seeds. The doc checked him over and found an excess of bacteria. It's the good bacteria, but way too much of it. Not a balance of good and bad. They cleaned out his crop again. Lots of slimey goo.

We discussed what could be causing this. I asked about a tumor as a possibility, thinking he would just say no, not causing this. Instead, he said it might be a possibility, and that he does feel a small, movable something below Tori's crop. That possibly it could be obstructing the drainage of his crop. My stomach fell, my head got warm, my heart started breaking.

We discussed the fact that this same scenario took place last spring. We started with one anti-biotic, and within weeks had to try another. After that it was a good five months before Tori had another slimey episode. We traced it to a possible side-effect to a stressful molt. His immune system weaker, stressed, the bacteria took over. I am praying like crazy that's the case this time. And, knowing that, once we have this cleared up with the new meds, that he'll be healthy and happy for a long time. Maybe we can head it off next molt with special molting foods, vitamins, or something like that.

But the tumor thing stuck with me. I asked the doc to show me what he meant when I picked Tori up at the end of the day. I couldn't really feel it, but the doc felt it was there. Sometimes a benign, fatty tumor can show up and not cause any ill effects for a long time. But the position of this, if it is one, could be problematic. I went overboard and imagined losing my baby, my Tori. I feel lonesome already. My heart is breaking and I can't stop crying. The possibility of it all.

Maybe things will clear up, and nothing further will develop with that "thing". I pray so. My gut tells me otherwise, but it's been very wrong before. I hope to God it's wrong this time.

I know it's key to live in the moment. To appreciate today, live now, love now. I do try. I will try. But that doesn't mean I won't go through a box of Kleenex while doing it.

So, tonight we gave Tori his first dose of the new meds. I brought him home, and he spent the evening playing with the gang. He seemed to have energy, appetite, and was particularly attentive to the youngest, Mouse and Blogger. In fact, he seems to be mentoring them a bit.

Mouse flew down to the floor (he hasn't much flight yet), so Tori flew down to the floor to watch over him. Pumpkin joined them, too. Tori seemed to be trying to teach Mouse how to take off, fly upward. Mouse tried, he just doesn't have enough flight power yet. So, Tori hung around down on the floor with Mouse until I went over to help them both up. Mouse has been very shy about getting on my finger or my hand. Tori, as sweet and clever as ever, demonstrated for Mouse what to do. Lo and behold, Mouse followed Tori's lead! See what I mean. He's damn special, Tori is. One of a kind.

I know to some people Tori is "just a parakeet", a "silly little bird", but let me just say that couldn't be further from the truth. He's an amazing, living, breathing, sensitive, sweet, and loving creature and to lose him would wound me profoundly. So, I'll just pray and pray that won't happen. And, I'll tell him I love him every day.

My Angel...

2009-04-02T21:18:00.004-05:00

Tori. He's my angel. The first parakeet we brought home that led us to five more, plus cockatiel, Google. Tori is my sweetheart. I love them all, deeply. But Tori is absolutely special. Sweet. So much personality. Sometimes so serious. I fell for him pretty hard. The first week we had him I kept him with me every moment I was home and awake. He napped on my shoulder, in the crook underneath my chin. Joe had to insist that I put him to bed when it got to be midnight. I didn't want to let him go.

He learned to talk quickly. Seems like it only took weeks before he said "Hi!". Then, "pretty bird", then "Tori", then "Tori, Tori, Tori", as it was part of a refrain from the "Tori Song" I sang to him so often Joe probably heard it in his sleep. He would sometimes sing along with me, with an extended refrain of "pre-tyyyyy bird!" After awhile I would just listen in wonder as he sat on my knee, or my shoulder, or my nose, and chattered away. He added "sweetheart" to his repertoire, then "how was your day". I felt guilty leaving him home alone all day while I was at work, so we adopted Pumpkin and watched as he and Tori became best friends forever. Their friendship was instant. Day one. Tori didn't speak "people" as much after that, but he and Pumpkin are such great companions, I can do without it.

Every so often Tori seems to become ill. Parakeets tend to hide it when they are feeling poorly, an inherent trait, but I have gotten to a point where I can tell pretty quickly if he's not feeling right. Like parents do with their children, I suppose. He puffs up, keeps to himself. Sometimes he naps on my shoulder. Then I really know he's not feeling well. Then, he does this thing where he throws up slimey, seedy, foamy goo. He gets very upset when this happens, and tries to fly away from me. But once he's done, he's back to sit on my shoulder (and wipe his slimey face on my shirt, or my chin).

I've taken him to an avian vet for this a few times over the past year. We thought we had it figured out. Stress from the big "spring molt" weakens his immune system, and he is overrun by bad bacteria. A course of antibiotics should do the trick. But it keeps coming back. And, though I'm diligent about administering the meds, he sure doesn't like it one bit. It's not easy on either one of us, but at least I can see that he's feeling better.

Just over two weeks ago I could tell he wasn't feeling right. He'd gone through a major molt, all the 'keets did, but he is the only one who seems to suffer the stress of it. I took him to the vet. He checked him over. Slimey crop. Bad bacteria. Antibiotics were prescribed. Two weeks worth. We started right away. Within 24 hours there was a major difference. Within a week Tori had more energy than it seems he's had in a long time. Ah, all we had to do was get through one more week of meds and we were done. He'd hopefully be healthy and wise for a long time. At least until the next big molt got his immune system down.

But tonight, I came home from work to find him sitting, puffed up, by himself, out of touch with the others. He didn't even want to come to me. My stomach fell. Not again. We've barely been done with the meds for 48 hours. My poor, poor baby. I finally got him to come to me, sit on my hand so I could talk to him. It wasn't long before he threw up. That was about two hours ago.
I've already called the vet to see about bringing him back in tomorrow morning. He seems to have rebounded for the moment. He's playing with the rest of the gang. He's flown over to my head several times, hopped down to my hand, told me a story or two. I don't know what to think.

I think of all the possibilities. Maybe he's just got a tender tummy. Hmm, probably not. Another infection? Yeast infection post anti-biotics? Tumor? (please, no...) I go over and over, in my head, what he might be eating, or drinking, or picking at that might cause this. But, over and over, I see that anything he eats, or is exposed to, is the same as the others. And they have all been fine. I clean every day. Fresh water, every day. Rotate water dishes, food dishes, clean ones for dirty. Unlike Texter, or Miss Pixel on occasion, Tori doesn't eat his own poop. So that can't be it.

I know I'll just have to wait and see what the doctor says. I won't be sleeping much tonight. But as long as I'm awake, I'll say a little prayer. I 'll make a wish. Hell, I'll make two. My little angel deserves it.

Oh so sweet...

2009-03-31T23:52:00.005-05:00

Just had to share this recent photo of Blogger and Mouse. Aren't they as sweet as can be? Look how they take care of each other. Both of them are spending an hour or two out of their cage with the other birdies these days. Blogger even came out on his own this evening. They still aren't thrilled with me trying to pick them up, or trying to get them to step-up on my finger or hand, but they have eaten broccoli from my hand. And they do come to the front of the cage, chatter at me, and play the winking game.

So, slow-going a bit, but it's going.

I can take a hint...

2009-03-31T23:26:00.005-05:00

Lately, when I'm getting the birdies ready for bed, I've been getting pretty much everything done, then turning off two main lights in the room and turning on their night-night CD. It's a nice mix of mellow celtic tunes that they've really gotten to know as bedtime music. Some nights, after I've dimmed the lights and started the CD I'll sit down at the computer for a few minutes before I officially tuck them in. A good deal of the time it includes actually having each bird hop on my finger and putting them in the house, one by one.

The past week or so they've been going in on their own. When I turn around after a bit at the computer, there they are, all inside, waiting for me to close the door, say goodnight, and cover them (slightly). After that, the nite-lite goes on and they are off to lullaby-land, grinding their beaks until they drift off to sleep.

Google still requires me to tuck him in. He doesn't have the flight yet to get over to his cage and climb in on his own. I expect he will someday.

So, tonight, I had everything done...their cages cleaned, food freshened, clean waters, the floor vacuumed. I turned out the two main lights, put on the music CD, and left them all to settle down for a few minutes. I walked down the hall to talk to my husband, Joe, about something. It got involved, a few more minutes passed. Mid-conversation I felt something on my foot. I looked down to see Google standing on top of my shoe, staring up at me. He didn't call, he didn't whistle, he just decided he was done waiting for me to come back and took the walk down the hall to come and get me.

Startled, I picked him up and we walked back to birdland. All the budgies were in their beds, waiting for me to say goodnight. I tucked Google in, he went swiftly to his sleeping spot, and I, finally, said goodnight to all my lovelies.

I can hear them grinding their beaks softly now. Dreamland must be near by.

The Beginning...

2009-03-29T23:36:00.002-05:00

His name was Hutch. Yeah, as in "Starsky and...". It was 1976. It was the hot TV show, and I had a thing for David Soul. Back then. I was in seventh grade. I spent a lot of time at my best friend Diane's house that year. Her mom had a parakeet. He was a very cool bird, and I started wishing I could have one too.

I don't really recall where we got Hutch, but I asked enough, and my mom allowed me to get him. He was a great parakeet. Tame. You could hold him. He had the run of the house. He talked quite a bit. He liked to sit on the edge of the bathroom mirror and admire himself while I got ready for school in the morning. He even knew a cuss-word or two. We went on a summer vacation up north, and we took him along. I believe that's where this picture was taken. His cage was sitting on a dresser in front of a mirror, and he was out for a bit of play. Everyone in the family liked Hutch. Even my dad. Somewhere there's a picture of my dad relaxing in a chair with Hutch sitting on his head.

If I'd have only known then what I know now, Hutch may have had an even better life. A longer, healthier one. Oh I took care of him. Trust me. But if I had known then the dangers lurking. Cigarette smoke. Non-stick cookware fumes. Cleaning chemicals. Fragranced candles. Hairspray. And to feed him fruits and vegetables. If only I had known. He lived maybe 4 years or so. To be honest, I can't remember exactly how long. But I do remember the trip to the vet with my mom, to have him put to sleep. He had developed a very large tumor that is prevalent in parakeets. I remember handing him over to the vet tech, never to see him again. Oh, how I wish now that I had gone in with him. Held him in my hands while he drifted off to sleep. Told him softly, sweetly, how much I loved him. I know that I told him I loved him. But, that final moment. I was scared. Maybe it wouldn't have been the right thing for me then. I don't know. But now, how I wish I had.

He was a great pet. Smart, funny, sweet, talkative. A great companion. For years after, decades actually, I wanted another. In college I got two more, but they didn't last long. A casualty of the environment, the cats, something. I don't really know for sure. But it wasn't the same situation. I don't think I was ready then. I'm sorry for not doing as well with those two. I wish they had been with us longer. I do recall we bought them at Walmart or something like that. So, they probably weren't the healthiest birds from the day they came home with us. Ah, regrets...

So, I pretty much consider Hutch the first and only...until now. Now, decades later, I have parakeets again. And the experience has been an awakening of sorts. Now I know the dangers that lurk out there for birds. I know not to use cleaning products that aren't safe around them. I know not to paint a room in the house with them here. In fact, I'm looking into zero-VOC paints. I know now that they need to eat, and they actually love, fruits and vegetables. I give them spring water, and purified tap water. I buy a special blend of bird food from the breeder filled with nutrients they need. I clean their cages every day. I still make a mistake here or there. Or worry that I have, and lie in bed at night hoping that they will be okay.

I worry about them dying someday. They have had injuries, just a hazard in life. We've made some trips to the vet. A few of them panicked. But, so far, everything seems to be working out okay. I pray that the fresh fruits and veggies, and the lack of toxins in the air we breath, the water we drink, will help them to avoid those drastic tumors. I pray they live a long, long life.

They bring so much joy to my life. Joe and I don't have kids. We're late bloomers (and starters). It's not something we felt we had to do. So, the birds. The birds are my children. My babies. I get it now. All those people out there with pets that they spoil and worship, worry over, cry over, mourn so deeply when they are gone. Not that I didn't understand it before. I've had pets. Lost them, too. But, at this stage in my life, it just means something even more. I get it now, I do.

So, people might think I'm nutty because I spend an hour every night cleaning their cages, getting them ready for bed. A little "off" because we have rituals, and songs that I sing to them. A room full of playgyms, and toys, and CD's especially made for their enjoyment. That's fine.

They make me happy. They bring joy to my day, every day. No matter how terrible a day it might be. Or how upset I might be about something. They can always make me smile. Warm my heart.

They have already taught me so much. Opened up my eyes to things I used to try to avoid thinking about. The environment, animal rights, watching out for the innocent. They make me want to be a better person. A better pet companion. A better friend, daughter, sister, love. A better human being.

Adolescence wasn't a fun time for me. I wasn't one of the popular kids. I didn't have a lot of friends. But Hutch, he was my friend. My sweetheart. If he were here right now, he'd probably be sitting on my shoulder as I write this. And when I was done, he would hop up on my finger, and I would tuck him inside his cage, cover him lightly, tell him I loved him and say good night.

Good night, Hutch. I still miss you...

The Gangs All Here

2009-03-23T23:14:00.002-05:00

You could color me surprised. Tonight I left the door to Blogger and Mouse's house open for a bit, sometimes Mouse comes out. Blogger isn't so keen on it. Mouse doesn't have much for large flight feathers right now, so he mostly flutters to the ground, then I pick him up and place him up top one of the playgyms with the other birds. Blogger tends to stay behind. I'm hoping that curiosity will get the better of him and he'll climb out on his own to play with the rest of the gang. So far, that hasn't been the case.

So, after dinner, Mouse came out. The rest of the gang was already out. Except for Blogger. I decided to try and lure him out. He wasn't having any of it. Finally, I just scooped him up and brought him out. Let him hop from my hand onto the top of his cage, to the playgym there. Imagine my surprise, not long after, when he flew around the room. I was stunned! He has more flight feathers than Mouse, but he hasn't really used them much, except for a bit of exercise in his house, on his favorite perch.

Anyway, he showed me. He flew about the room, trying to follow the other birds. They are expert flyers, dipping, and turning, landing smoothly. Blogger had a few rough landings, but, overall, he did quite well. I'm still struggling to get them to be comfortable coming to my hand, stepping up, and so on. But they are young, and I think we'll get there. What's really important to me is that they bond with the other birds, and are interested in following along. Playing, singing, flying, chatting up a storm. They both say "pretty bird" already. It's amazing.

I told Joe my goal for the week was to get a photo of all of the birds together. All seven of them. He said it couldn't be done. So, of course, I had to do it. And, immediately.

So, maybe it's not the best photo of all of them. Some of them aren't even facing the camera. But, heck, have you ever staged a photo shoot with seven birds? It don't come easy.

I had a dream once, shortly after we brought Tori home. I dreamed I was standing in a room, and there were birds all over me. Happy. Cheerful. Singing. From the top of one hand, to the other. The dream was peaceful. Happy. I wonder sometimes if it was a brief peek into the future.

Works for me.

Google Speaks

2009-03-11T22:26:00.005-05:00

Google was ill last week. We're not sure exactly what it was, but it showed up a day or two after Google tried to fly to me and landed abruptly enough to frighten him into running to me crying, and took me a while to calm him down. We looked him over well once he was calmed down and saw a small blood spot on the tip of a feather, but nothing other than that. He was alert, eating, playing. But two nights later Joe and I discovered he had developed some kind of tremor or flinch of his wings. This later also moved into his feet. I ended up taking him over to see Kay at the pet shop, and, when Kay and Ralph determined neither had seen this before, I set up an appointment to take him to the vet the next morning.

The vet hadn't seen anything like it before either. He gave him a thorough exam. We discussed Google's health at length, the episode, any other possibilities, and I took him home to keep him warm, get some rest, and to watch for the next few days to see if he improved. Thankfully, he did. By Sunday all signs of the tremors were gone, Google had finally gotten a good night's sleep, and he seemed back to himself. Calling out for us in the morning, and getting into mischief. Hopefully it won't present itself again. Only time will tell.

In the meantime, he's started talking! It started on Monday night. He gets very excited to see Joe, and decided that he would start talking while sitting on Joe's shoulder. We made out "pretty bird" very clearly, and few sing-song type whistles, and something else that wasn't clear. Nothing else the rest of the night besides his regular whistle calls.

Last night, once again, while hanging out with Joe, he decided to say "pretty bird" again, and "I love you". Nothing for me. Nope. Nada for the mama who takes care of him, sings to him, cleans his house, makes his food. Oh, boo-hoo.

Then, tonight, while Joe was taking a much needed post-work nap, he was hanging out on my shoulder and very clearly said "Hi", "Google", "pretty bird" and "I love you". I was elated! I couldn't wait for Joe to wake up so I could tell him. And when he awoke I did tell him. Google then took roost on Joe's shoulder, and went crazy.

He said all the things he'd said to me, and more! And a few I couldn't make out at all. In fact, at one point it sounded like he was trying to sing! All this to Joe. It should be noted that he was very enthralled with Joe's ears the whole time. I couldn't tell you what that's all about, but, boy, does he love them.

So, he's talking. And so quickly, too. I do sing to him a lot, though. I sing to them all. But I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous. All this time, and love, and singing, and he decides to share it all with Joe first. Well, I suppose I could take advantage of that somehow. Perhaps I should teach him to say something like "paint the garage", or "clean the basement". That could be sweet...

Sunday in Birdland

2009-03-01T23:13:00.003-06:00

Awww, aren't they all so cute? Even the one without the feathers. He's pretty cute, too. Google sure seems to like him. He likes him a lot.

It was a full day in birdland. The kids were up early as it was a bright and sunny, albeit cold, day. Google was having none of that "sleeping in" stuff. So I got up, dressed in loungewear and went off to the living room with him and his portable playgym and a breakfast bowl of Google food. The rest of the gang arose and played in their room. The house was filled with happy bird calls and the flutter of wings.

We were kind, we let Joe sleep in.

Google and I made it to the living room sofa. There I covered up cozy with a blanket and he ran up and down the couch, rested on my shoulder, climbed over the pillows, spent some time on the playgym having a little breakfast, and playing with a toy. After a while we both got drowsy and ended up napping, with Google nestled happily above me on the top of the sofa back where I could see him, his head tucked neatly into his wing. It was a nice nap for both of us.

This afternoon I did some shopping to make Mouse and Blogger's home more functional. I think we've got things set up pretty well for them now. Time will tell, but this evening they seemed quite comfy, and chipper. They even came over to the front of the cage to chatter to me. I wish I knew how to approach them, to make the most of their disabilities and tame them. I guess I will follow my instincts and let time work its magic. It seems to have worked with the others.

Tori came over to supervise and visit with Mouse and Blogger for a bit. Pumpkin, too. Miss Pixel and Texter attempted to make further friends with Google, but he didn't seem to be in the mood. Miss Pixel gave me a look like "What the...". I just told her to try again. Remember, he's just a baby. Miss Pixel can be quite bossy, so I don't think she's giving up yet.

This evening, Google was on the desk playing, while I was cleaning their cages, and got impatient to come over by me. He doesn't have all his flight feathers, and is just getting the hang of things, so he's not always very steady, but he seems to land just fine. He fluttered to the floor and called to me. I said to him from the other side of the desk to come to momma. I expected him to waltz over from under the desk and look up at me to pick him up like he usually does. This time, though, he was running, and flapping his wings incredibly, and calling to me. Running to me as if he had been frightened by something or someone. I bent to pick him up and he leapt fiercely to my chest, climbed up to my shoulder and fluttered his wings like crazy. I could tell he had been spooked, but I didn't know if he was hurt. So, I spoke softly to him. Shushed him. Told him it was okay. He kept fluttering his wings. I wondered if he was hurt. I tried to get a good look, but he was still upset. It almost seemed to me like a "night-fright" without the night. I talked to him some more, walked around with him on my shoulder. He calmed down. I lifted him up on my hand and examined him. I didn't see anything. Eventually, after putting him in a towel and taking a look at his wings I saw a little spot of blood at the tip of one of his feathers. Everything seemd to have stopped bleeding, and he was calm and happy again. But it was a scare. I should be used to this by now, but I'm not. After a while I tucked him in his house for a rest. When he came out to play a while later he was just fine.

One thing that amazed me about this was the difference in behavior. Most birds, when frightened, will fly away from you. Some will, after learning to trust you, look to you for reassurance, but their first instinct is still to fly away. Tori does fly to me if he gets scared, but not quite the way Google did. Even cats and dogs don't do what Google did. Children do that. They run to mommy and cling to her. Fortunately Google wasn't hurt badly. And it melts my heart to know he trusts me so much already. But I'm not in any hurry for it to happen again.

Unexpected Beauties

2009-02-28T23:19:00.002-06:00

I went to the pet shop to visit Kay and Ralph. To pick up a few supplies for the gang, and to ask a few questions about our latest feathered family addition, Google, the cockatiel. By the time I left the shop, Ralph had offered me two budgie babies to add to our ever-growing family. They were a pair of brothers, both with some walking disabilities. They are otherwise healthy, very sweet, and quite beautiful birds. I was flattered they would consider me for this, and told them I would think about it.

I wasn't far from the pet shop, and into my afternoon errands, when I pretty much knew I wanted to do it. The birds were beautiful, one gray and white, the other purple and white. Clear-eyed, chipper, they played the winking game (it's a sign...I've blogged about it in the past). Anyway, I tried not to dwell on it, since I figured Joe, my husband, would say "No". Actually, I thought he would say "Kimberly! Are you crazy?!"

So, I went about my day. I was working on organizing my office/the bird room in an effort to make it more functional, and tidy. I needed to purge some things, clean, etc. I worked on that until Joe came home from work. Shortly after he came home we realized we had a problem with the refrigerator. It was leaking water. This did not help Joe's mood, or mine. We set about emptying the fridge and freezer. This was an all-night task, and we were both working on other things at the same time. I didn't mention the birds.

By the time midnight rolled around, and we'd returned our perishables to the cold zone, we sat down for a beverage and to catch up on our day. I started with "I stopped at the pet store to see Kay...and ended with "Ralph offered to give us two baby budgies." I waited for Joe's response. For, "Kimberly! Are you crazy?!" Instead, to my surprise, he semi-smiled. I asked "What?"
He said "Five...Seven...what's the difference?!" We discussed it a bit further, but didn't make a final decision just yet. He went about turning off the TV, the living room lights. When he came back to the kitchen I was smiling. "What?" he asked me. I looked up at him..."I've already picked out names..."

And so it was, that we adopted Mouse and Blogger. Two more baby budgies. Two more feathered bundles of personality. Two more fine-feathered friends named after some crazy computer/internet thing. I brought them home Friday night and introduced them to the gang. So far, so good.

We're still fine-tuning their living quarters to adapt to their foot issues, but so far they seem to be doing okay. They eat, drink, climb, chirp, preen each other, and call out to the other birdies. Tori has been inside to visit them several times and they don't seem to mind at all. They are sleeping just a few feet away from me as I write this.

Am I crazy? Most people would say so. But I've got plenty of love to give. And if it takes just a little longer to say "Night Night", well, what's the big deal? We're not exactly the Waltons, you know.

Not yet, anyway....Good night, John-boy.

Window Watcher

2009-02-23T22:55:00.001-06:00

He looks so pensive and thoughtful sitting at the window like he does. One day I left the room for a few minutes and came back to budgies only. Where was Google? I called out to him and he answered promptly. But I didn't see him. It's not a big room, but it's plenty full of shelves and desks, and books, etc. And, of course, he was plainly in the room. I followed his whistle and found him sitting on the window sill, behind the curtain, watching happily the backyard view.
It was a cloudy, snowy day, not much happening. But he sat there a while.

Now I have it set up so that we can set a small playgym up there and he can sit on the perch and watch out the window. Even in the mornings, while I put on my makeup he sits watching out the window at my dresser.

As he sits there, contentedly, I wonder, what's he thinking?

The Kids are Alright

2009-02-20T21:43:00.004-06:00

My little gang of feathered children sure do amaze and entertain. They touch my heart, and my funny bone, too. It's been three weeks since we brought Google home. The gang seems to be settling in with him. They aren't best friends yet, but they do seem to snack at the same snack bar on occasion. And sometimes the little budgies don't fly away when big, bumbling Google comes along to play. Not that Google is really big, but in the context of a budgie, he seems that way.

He fits nicely on my shoulder. My hand. He likes to nap on both. It's so cute to watch him struggle to stay awake--like a little child (and some grown-ups) not wanting to miss anything. When he can barely keep his eyes open, and his head starts bobbing towards sleep he'll try hard to shake it off. Shake his head quickly back and forth. Like I do when I've been driving too long and I'm so tired, but eager to make it to my destination. Sometimes I sing to him when he does this, and it seems to relax him. Before I know it he's tucked his Google-head into his wings and is cozy and asleep within distance of a quick kiss. He's a good nuzzler, too.

The only other bird who will nap on my shoulder or hand is Tori. He's content to sit quietly on my shoulder, grinding his beak. Occasionally he will go ahead and nap there. Unfortunately, when he does spend too much time napping there it means he's not feeling well and a trip to the vet is evident. Fortunately that hasn't happened for some time now.

We tried a new snack tonight. "Honey Nut" Chex cereal. Everyone likes it. There were two birds hanging off the side of my head, and two on my hand snacking away. They like to nibble at it while I hold it from my lips. I know, I know, it's crazy. It's not how I feed them every day. It's a form of play.

Right now the budgies are buzzing the room. Texter likes to buzz low, around my head, over Google's head. Google looks on with fascination. I'm certain he longs to take flight and buzz the room, too. His wings are clipped lightly, so he's got a little air power. Mostly just enough to make for a safe landing on the floor, or my desk.

Google is sitting on my desk, trying desperately to type on the keypad. He seems quite fascinated with it. I whistle at him. He whistles back. This will go on for a while.

And when bedtime comes, as we prepare for night-night, he'll start up whistling even more. Showing off, wanting my attention, hoping to stay up just a little bit later. He'll get this whole nighttime routine eventually. In the meantime, I'm a sucker for an entertaining Google.

What's a Googlebath?

2009-02-03T23:34:00.002-06:00

He's a Googlebath. A very wet one! Google the cockatiel has been with us for a little over a week now, and he seems to be settling in pretty well. He's 10 weeks old. He's very much like our gang of four parakeets, but kind of not, too. In part, due to the fact that he was hand-raised and fed, he is very affectionate. He will sit on your shoulder and go anywhere in the house with you (not that he should). He's already taking naps on my shoulder while I read or work at the computer. My point is, he's very tame and friendly.

He's becoming more and more vocal. Tonight he was repeating some whistles that I was calling to him. A good sign. He's already become very fond of the bathtub we put out for the parakeets. They all like to gather there, take a drink, a dip, socialize. Google is no exception. Well, the one thing he does that the others haven't is bring his toys into the tub to play. So, now we have lots of wet bird toys bouncing about.

This evening, Tori, our oldest parakeet, decided to pay Google a visit in Google's house. All went well. No big to-do, just a simple, cordial visit.

The parakeets (the Four Amigos) are all familiar with the bedtime routine. We clean up, get fresh food and water, sweep or vacuum up the floor, night-night music goes on. Then, one by one, they are tucked in to their house to settle in for the night. I bid each one good night, cover their cage (only partially), turn out any lamps in the room, and turn on their nite-lite. There may be a scuffle or two as they volley for their favorite sleeping spots, but that's pretty much it.

Now Google is part of that routine and he's adapting. But not without a few attempts to woo me to let him stay up. His chatter grows more frequent as we get ready for night-time. Like a tired child amusing a parent for that extra ten minutes, Google seeks to impress and entertain so that he can stay up late with "the folks". He calls out a few times once he is tucked in, but soon settles in for some shut-eye. He's had a busy day, after all, and he needs some sleep.

A fine feathered search engine

2009-01-24T22:16:00.004-06:00

I have been warning my husband for the past few months, dropping hints, fantasizing out loud, really, about adding another feathered friend to our family. We have four adorable parakeets, thus far, and I've been thinking six would be a better number. And I have promised that will be the maximum. As long as none of them decides to procreate. So far, no problem.

When it looks as though he's dying to tell me "No way, no more", I suggest we get a dog instead. That goes nowhere. When I really want to get my way I suggest we have a baby. Suddenly, he's quite open to adding another feathered angel to our nest.

And so, as it happens, although we've been discussing adding another parakeet, my latest trip to the pet shop to pick up gourmet parakeet food instead introduced me to a 9-week old, hand-fed and raised cockatiel. Kay told me not to be shy. He's very friendly. She opened up his cage and he popped out, and easily stepped onto my hand where he stayed for the next ten minutes or more. During which time, of course, I fell in love again.

I always have a gut instinct, a "knowing" when the next one appears. I haven't been wrong yet. They all get along so well. With all their personalities and quirks, they are still one big happy winged family.

I went home from the store knowing I wouldn't be able to wait to bring it up to Joe. I started with the dog suggestion, and then worked my way back around to another bird. Then I told him how I'd found the next one. Only it's not a parakeet, it's...bigger. But just as sweet. And already so tame. You know something, he's an incredible man. A very sweet husband. He asked when we would pick him up.

So I spent last night getting the carrier cage, and the baby's new home ready. I worked today, so we made plans for Joe to pick him up this afternoon. He was here when I got home from work. And already settling in.

We spent a few minutes with him, I greeted my original Four Amigos, and then we introduced them to Google bird. Yes, Google is his name. And I might as well tell you right now, the next, and final addition (but not for some time) will be named Blogger. So go ahead, call us techies, we don't care. I'm fond of blogging, and Google is a damned fine name, if you ask me. I hope they don't sue me for copyright infringement.

Google is fitting in just fine already. He's happy to pose for pictures. He likes nibbling on my hair, and eating carrots, and playing with his toys. The Four Amigos are a little tentative yet, but they'll soon realize that he's not to be afraid of, and just one of the gang. They've been spying on him when he's in his house. And I think signs point to them being good friends. As long as they are certain that they all have their designated spots in my heart.

And believe me, they do. I've blogged about it in months past. You can Google it, if you want.

The kitchen chair tried to kill me

2009-01-18T18:44:00.003-06:00

Call CSI. I want an investigation. The kitchen chair tried to kill me. Well, I suppose all forensics evidence will just lead to telling me to join Jenny Craig. I need to get into better shape, and I know it. Irony is, I like walking. I do. But somehow I always get distracted by something else.

But back to the events at hand. Yesterday, believe it or not, it occurred to me that I had not had a fall in quite some time. I'm a bit of a klutz. Last winter I had several incidents. One that left my brain shaken for several weeks, and my body incredibly sore. But nothing broken. Ice and shopping mall parking lots are a dangerous mix, that's what I have to say about that.

An encouraging side note to that incident, however, is that when I fell, several individuals came to my aid. Warning me not to move until I knew I was okay, and so on. One person even walked with me a ways to make sure I was okay. Ah, the kindness of strangers. It does warm the heart, even when you're feeling embarrassed as hell.

I fell a couple more times through the winter, shoveling, traipsing through snow banks, and such. And once or twice in the garden during the spring and summer. Just carelessly placed garden implements, or distractedness on my part.

So, here we are, three weeks in to 2009 and I realized, hey, I haven't had a fall in a long while. I'm doing pretty good. Granted, there are many weeks of winter to make it through yet. And, truth be told, I've been known to fall in the house, too. I blogged about a bug incident from the past spring/summer that left me in splits on the kitchen floor.

But last night, while treating myself to a late night, relaxing, facial, I decided to read a magazine at the kitchen table. While sitting there, I had a napkin to toss in the garbage, so I turned sideways, leaning back against the kitchen chair to toss it in the basket. As I did so I heard a telltale crack. But I did not heed its warning.

A few minutes later, as I pushed the chair back to stand up and go wash my face, the chair collapsed beneath me. I sat stunned for a moment or two. My husband rushed in from the other room to see what the hubbub was about and found me in a lump on the floor, surrounded by broken chair parts. The back of the chair had come completely undone. To say the least, I was completely embarrassed and ashamed.

I'm a little sore today, but nothing that won't fade away with a little ibuprofen. My ego is still red with embarrassment. I'm not joining Jenny Craig, but I suppose I feel a bit more motivated to get on that treadmill now.

But if the CSI team does show up, the chair tried to kill me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

A Diamond in the Rough

2009-01-16T22:32:00.004-06:00

The waiting, as they say, is the hardest part. That's certainly been true in this case. It's been a long two weeks of waiting for the results of Nathan's biopsy to come in. Although the signs were pointing to a good prognosis, life can be so full of surprises, good and bad, that you can never be too certain. I admit it, I was obsessed day and night. I poured over websites about neuroblastoma, I read Wikipedia definitions multiple times. I read the blogs of others fighting the disease. I hoped, I prayed, and I enlisted friends near and far to include him in their prayers and wishes and dreams. And I cried. A lot.

Today was a long day. I knew that Nathan's results were due in. Unfortunately, I hadn't asked my sister what time they were to meet with the doctor. So, last night I tossed and turned. All day long (with apologies to my boss) I struggled to stay on task and not drift into bouts of fear and paranoia about the outcome. I heard nothing all day.

When I arrived home this evening, however, there was a message from my sister to call. Nothing else. I picked up the phone, then suddenly couldn't remember her cell number. I frantically looked for my address/phone book and couldn't find it. I thought, maybe, I could remember the cell, so I dialed it. It wasn't hers, but her husband's. He worked in a few pleasantries. But I wanted the news. Tell me.

As he filled me in on the Oh-So-Good news I burst into tears. The results: the tumor is definitely a neuroblastoma (and not something unexpected), Stage 1, Low-Risk. And the best news beyond that - NO CHEMO. Be still my heart. I have never been so grateful in my life.

I congratulated him. He told me more of the details, the doctors comments, the fact that they will be watching him carefully, doing scans every 3 months. They will continue with the infusions for the OMS that warned them that a tumor was possible. They will continue with the steroid injections for a time. The physical therapy, speech therapy, and so on. All of those things seem like status quo after this. The tumor is gone. He will live.

It is possible that it may recur. But based on the traits of the one they removed, anything additional will hopefully be treatable in the same way. And, with regular scans, they can catch it early, as they were able to do with this one.

As it turns out, they were nearby, having just come from the doctor. So I rushed out to meet up with them. To hug them. To see their happy faces. To see Nathan, and his big, handsome, brother Ben, play together, and laugh and giggle. To take a few pictures. How did I get to be so lucky, to be able to be with them on this momentous day? Yes, I am grateful.

It was a rough day. It's been a rough 12 months since this began. But the diamond is worth it. For he sparkles and he shines. But most of all, he warms our hearts.

A much better day...

2009-01-05T23:04:00.002-06:00

Today was a much better day. When I went to visit my nephew Nathan this evening the difference in his condition was amazing. He was in the playroom with his parents when I arrived. We took a walk around the medical wing. Then it was time for Nathan to actually have his first post-surgery meal. And he was ready for it!

He was clearly feeling much better today. Smiling, laughing. Not in such pain. They have taken him off most of the post-surgery meds. We did a lot of playing after dinner. He likes to play with cameras, snapping pictures. Manages to get some good ones, too.

He and I played "curly hair". I messed mine up and made him laugh. This time without pain. Thank goodness. It's hard to believe he was so miserable yesterday. They really do "turn a corner" quickly, as the docs say. Let's hope this lasts and lasts.

They got the bone marrow results back today and it was negative for any cancer cells. HUZZAH! That is something to celebrate.

They took a post-surgery CT scan today. Pray the results come back in their favor. And the pathology report is still due. Then they will know what the next step will be. In some cases of Neuroblastoma, based on the staging of the tumor, chemotherapy isn't required. It would be such a blessing if that was the case. But we will not know for certain for a while yet.

In the meantime, Nathan is in great spirit, and, there is talk of him being able to go home soon. I'll have to make a longer drive to see him then. But you won't hear me complaining.

Vive' la Nathan!

Let's keep the laughter down, shall we?

2009-01-04T20:45:00.005-06:00

It's the third day since my nephew Nathan had his surgery. A (most likely neuroblastoma) tumor removed from his abdomen. Thank heaven the surgery went well. They were able to remove it all, and without any complications. Lab results are still forthcoming. In the meantime, Nathan is in recovery. Most of the time he has been sleeping. The medication to numb the pain makes him very tired. He hasn't been able to have any liquids, much less solid food, since the day before his surgery. His mouth is dry. His lips chapped. But he doesn't much complain.

Today we went to visit him. He was sleeping. However, earlier in the day he had been much more alert, and actually made a trip to the toy room to play for a while. A very encouraging step in his path to wellness.

After we visited with my sister and family a while, Nathan awoke. I was attempting to entertain him with a hand puppet. Big mistake. I made him smile. That was good. I made him laugh. Ooh, that was NOT good. The laughter made his body hurt. Laughter turned to tears. I felt so bad. His mother comforted him. Eventually he calmed down. But any little cough, bump of the belly, hurts him. And it breaks your heart. This is a major boo-boo. Yes, time should heal. He is better than yesterday. And signs point toward a less painful tomorrow.

Hopefully he will be able to have fluids soon. Hopefully the test results will come back and will show the best possible outcome. Hopefully I'll be able to make him laugh again without causing any discomfort. In the meantime, I think my "silly hat" will go on hiatus.

And the sunlight danced upon his hair...

2009-01-02T23:50:00.004-06:00

That curly hair, dappled with sunshine. Photos from a summer day not so long ago. A miracle in action, many months into treatment for OMS. That is Nathan. A bundle of laughter, and personality. A ball of energy. A delight.

I asked for your prayers. Your good wishes. Your kindness of the human soul, and you answered. Thank you!

Nathan's surgery went very well today. Could not have gone better, in fact. The operation lasted little more than two hours. They were able to remove the entire, walnut-sized tumor, and did so without any complications. All organs, and arteries intact. Hallelujah!

They also did a bone marrow test. A previous osteoscan showed no affect of the neuroblastoma to the bone, but this will give a definitive answer. Pray it's clean, clean, clean.

The pathology will not be back on the tumor for a week or more. So, we must wait. In the meantime, Nathan is resting and on pain medication to keep him comfortable for the next few days. When we visited tonight he was sleeping. He woke for a bit, long enough to request his SHREK dvd be played.

When I kissed him goodnight, I was struck by what a courageous boy he is. Not unlike so many of the other children whose stories I've read recently. Children plagued by childhood cancer, or other horrific diseases or challenges. How they just keep plugging away. Look into the face of a child and see your true self. Somewhere deep inside each one of us, that innocence exists.

Let us resurrect it. Treasure it. Share it. May the preciousness of a child live on and on and on. Bless Nathan. Bless them all...

Calling All Angels

2009-01-01T23:19:00.005-06:00

Isn't he beautiful? My 2-1/2 year-old nephew, Nathan. He's as sweet as he looks, too. A happy, loving, adorable child. I must admit, I've got a serious crush on him.

Tomorrow this beautiful boy is undergoing surgery to remove a tumor in his abdomen. Based on an illness that began nearly a year ago, the doctors are pretty certain that this tumor is a Neuroblastoma. He began having neurological difficulties in January of last year. The symptoms were subtle, and not apparent at first. It wasn't until spring that they finally came up with a diagnosis of OMS (opsoclonus myoclonus syndrome, possibly with neuroblastoma). This is a very rare disease (maybe 700 cases per year), and primarily a pediatric, early childhood disease.

Nathan, his parents, brother, and close family have been on this roller-coaster ride since then. At the time of his diagnosis Nathan had regressed from a walking toddler saying some of his first words, to a toddler that could barely sit up on his own. He had tremors, emotional issues, and was having a difficult time eating solid foods any longer. The doctors at Children's Hospital of Milwaukee made the diagnosis and began aggressive treatment. He had scan after scan looking for the tumor that usually precedes this condition. They found none. This was a relief.

They began chemotherapy and imunoglobulin therapy. They put him on a year or more regimen of steroids that cost over $30,000 per month. He has monthly transfusions. But, his progress was amazing. By the time he left the hospital he was walking again. Regaining some strength. Within months, by the time of his 2nd birthday party in July, he was running. Miracle of miracles. Makes me cry just thinking about it.

He has speech therapy, physical therapy, he still takes steroid injections, he has a transfusion each month. He's been lucky, he hasn't had many of the side effects that come with the steroids he's getting. He's energetic. He loves The Wiggles. He can jump up and down to music endlessly. He loves Richard Simmons' "Sweatin to the Oldies" and knows the routines.

Earlier in the fall of 2008 he had a check-up with a series of tests which turned up clean. No sign of the cells that belong to a Neuroblastoma. Or so we thought. When he had his 6-month MRI, shortly before Christmas, they found a growth above one of his kidneys. This was an incredible blow, since he had recently had such a great medical review. My sister and her husband were knocked out shocked. It took time to catch their breath. The hope was that Nathan's body had already fought off the Neuroblastoma, and that was the reason for his illness. But this time, the OMS was a precursor to the tumor. Because of that, and the regular MRI's, etc., they were able to catch it early.

All signs seem to show that this tumor is exclusive. That it hasn't spread. But until the tumor is removed, and the pathology known, and prognosis and any further treatment determined, we'll have to wait. I pray that the surgery tomorrow goes smoothly. That they are able to remove it all. There is no spread of the tumor. That he will recover without regression. That he will not be in too much pain. That he will soon be a very healthy, cancer-free boy.

What I'm asking for, dear readers, is a Calling of Angels. Whether you believe in God or not, whether you belong to a church or not, that doesn't matter. This is a request for prayer, good karma, good wishes, from you, dear readers. From anyone reading this post. From anyone who wants to share this post. Please, take a moment, say a prayer, make a wish, just send a warm thought, a warm virtual hug to a small child, out through the cosmos and back again.

Life is a beautiful thing. I already know that Nathan's life is a loving one. I pray that it's also a very long one.

Thank you....Kimberly

I should be sleeping...

2008-12-23T00:43:00.002-06:00

...but I'm not. Christmas Eve is less than 48 hours away and the clock is ticking. I'm trying to finish up a dozen projects I hope to have ready for the big night. As the clock ticks, some of the projects will fall away. What's left standing on Wednesday morning will most likely be it. The rest will have to wait until next year. Or not at all.

In the case of Christmas, my crafty eyes are bigger than my crafty stomach. Pardon the analogy. It's just that I have so many ideas spinning around in my head, and not enough time, energy, or hutzpah to complete them all. Even if those ideas start forming in August, somehow, it's the night before Christmas, when all through the house, only crafters are stirring, of course, not a mouse. But why? Whose fault is this anyway?

Mmm...I blame my mother. The woman who somehow did it all come Christmastime. She somehow managed to make sure everyone was included. She was heaven-bent on making sure each child got the same amount of gifts, in one way or another. She found ways to include friends, relatives, pets, even. Christmas stockings were full, gifts from Santa underneath the tree. When we awoke in the early hours to dump out our stockings, and tear open the gifts from Santa, the tape was still fresh on the boxes, the ribbons just curled. My mother, exhausted, had barely fallen asleep when we trotted down the stairs in the early morning light. By the time she arose, to start preparations for Christmas dinner, we had made our way through fresh oranges, and chocolate, and several Christmas cartoons, maybe even Scrooge.

I wonder what I would be like with a house full of Children at Christmastime. A lot like her, I suppose, if my crafty expeditions are any telltale sign. I don't have children of my own. But I do have four darling parakeets. And I know this...come Christmas morning, their stockings will be full.

Caroling, Caroling...

2008-12-20T20:53:00.005-06:00

Christmas is almost here...it wouldn't feel like Christmas without a little Christmas music. Since I don't really want to go out caroling solo (it would be comical, though, would it not?), I've decided to put up a few of my original Christmas tunes on my blog to spread some holiday cheer. It's been a tough year for many, and I think we could use a little positive musical karma.

There are two songs posted here that were recorded just this past week. My skills at the 8-track mastering board are lower than novice, so I apologize for the less than perfect mix. I do hope, despite that, you will enjoy the tunes. Check out the menu in the player above, select a song, and enjoy.

Update: clearly something isn't working with embedding the player. So, here is a link to click on that will take you to the online playlist.
http://www.box.net/shared/2k43jzufjt

Merry Christmas to all.
May you have a Healthy and Happy New Year, too!

HO HO HO and Here We Go....

2008-12-01T21:33:00.003-06:00

Here it is again, Christmastime. Seems hard to believe, how fast the year has gone by. But here we are, putting up trees, bustling through shopping malls, shoveling snow, writing letters to Santa, planning get togethers, singing Christmas carols.

Christmas carols. Aside from the fact that the local radio stations literally started playing Christmas music ON Halloween this year, I love Christmas music. I'm a fan. Dedicated. I have amassed a large collection of tunes throughout my 45 years, and I make a point of sharing my favorites with as many people as I can.

Back in the early 90's I started assembling a Christmas collection as a vocal Christmas card. I oftentimes included original productions as well. But culling the CD's, visiting the different record stores each Christmas season and picking out new titles to add to my collection has always been a treat. And, with music, a great deal of the joy is in being able to share it.

This year's theme will include birds. Hey, I'm Parakeetgirl; it figures, doesn't it? It's been a bit of a trick to find Christmas/holiday/winter songs that make reference to birds. Given that birds are a well referenced theme in Christmas cards, ornaments and decorations, you would think that songs featuring them would be plentiful. Not so. I've done my homework. I've scoured my CD's, gone through songbooks, visited many a website about birds, and have only come up with about a dozen. And that counts an original I'm producing this year with a friend of mine. That's okay, I'll fill in the disc with several new discoveries.

And speaking of discoveries...here's a new Christmas collection worth checking out - "The Hotel Cafe' presents...Winter Songs". It's got some brand-new holiday tunes, and very original productions of some tried and true favorites. The title track "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson is beautiful. "Frosty the Snowman" by Fiona Apple harkens to a bygone era. "The Heartache can Wait" by Brenda Carlile is haunting and melodic. Definitely worth a listen. A portion of the profits goes to Susan G. Komen for the Cure to fight breast cancer, so there's good will attached as well. Check it out here: http://www.hotelcafe.com/wintersongs/

Over the years I've searched high and low for obscure Christmas tunes. My main complaint about holiday radio is that they play the same things over and over. When you're trying to fill 24 hours of air time, you'd think they would welcome something a little different. That said, there are a few artists I've never found Christmas/holiday tunes for. Wouldn't it be grand, or at least interesting to hear holiday music by: Bob Dylan, Bjork (the only piece I've found is instrumental, and amounts to the "sound of snowflakes" falling), Billie Holiday (something besides the classic "I've got my love to keep me warm"), Patti Griffin, Lucinda Williams, The Killers. There are more, but it's late and I'm starting to fade...more on this subject matter later. In the meantime...

I'll fade out...cue the jingle bells...

Wild Beauty

2008-11-22T17:07:00.002-06:00

So, it's nearly Thanksgiving already. My the year has flown. Last year, on the day after Thanksgiving, I was at work and my husband stopped by the shop I work at to surprise me with lunch, and to show me some video he had taken in the backyard that morning. A local feral cat had shown up with two kittens in tow. They were romping around our backyard, playing amongst the worn out garden and leaves. They were adorable.

We were on the lookout for them after that, and eventually discovered there were four kittens in all. We would put out food and it would disappear, but they managed to come by when we weren't looking, or weren't home.

When winter came, we wrapped a big tarp around a swing we had in the yard. One day we discovered that Momma kitty and her kittens were enjoying the shelter inside the tarp. I had hopes of trapping them and getting them to a shelter, but I've never done that before, and they were rather inconsistant in their visits. And, being winter, I didn't want to set a live trap and have them out in the cold all day without any decent cover.

So, I enabled them instead. I got two big wine crates, some old fleece blankets, and set them up on the cushions of the swing inside the tarp. They made themselves at home. Trouble is, any time we got close, they took off running so fast, there was no way we could catch them. So, we just kept putting out food, and watched for them.

One sunny winter morning I looked out the bedroom window to see a couple of them playing, peeking in and out of the tarp. I quickly grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures. I got some great shots and posted them on flickr. When spring came we took the tarp apart, washed all the blankets, and dismantled the swing. It needed new cushions anyway. Some friends of ours took the swing and rehabbed it for themselves, and we got a new swing with removable cushions.

Earlier today I looked out the bedroom window and discovered one of the kittens, now a full-grown cat, napping on the new swing. I'm sure he's done it before, just not when we've been around. I called my husband, Joe, to come and see, and we both snapped some photos of our guest. That adorable kitten had grown into a beautiful, wild, cat. Eventually, a neighbor walked by and the cat ran off to some other spot.

Watching him rest on the swing, it was clear he was truly enjoying himself. Basking in the sunlight, and the softness of the cushions.

We dismantled the cushions today, got the yard winter-ready. But I'm worried about that cat. And his mother and siblings, too. Clearly they've made it this far on their own. But winter is coming again. I'll have to come up with some kind of shelter for them for those cold, cold nights. Maybe this year I'll be able to rescue a furry friend.

The Kids are Famous Now

2008-11-19T22:22:00.002-06:00

Well, relatively so. Tori, Pumpkin, and Miss Pixel are featured in a video montage of pet birds on Ultra Kawaii.com. Featured a total of three times, in fact. Alas, Texter didn't make the scene, perhaps next time. He's got some catching up to do. He's certainly screen worthy. Anyway, just a little fun to brighten up our day. If you get a chance, swing by the site and check it out.

In the meantime, I think they're just about due to make a Christmas video of some kind. I have a feeling they won't be receptive to the Santa hat thing, though.

The Great Pumpkin

2008-10-06T18:46:00.001-05:00

It was two years ago, this week, that we brought Pumpkin home to join the family. He and Tori were instant friends, and have been constant companions ever since. Watching them hang out together, playing, chatting, sitting so close you can barely discern a line of space between them. It's an incredible thing. Sure, they've had "jealous sibling" issues, like brothers vying for attention, or first dibs at toys or treats. But, all in all, they are the best of friends. Brothers in wings.

When we were looking to find a friend and companion for Tori, I visited Kay and Ralph at the pet shop many times before making a decision. It had to be the right match. The first time I saw Pumpkin he was wrestling with his brother bird in a cage in the store. They wrestled so boisterously that they both fell off the perch and were rolling around at the bottom of the cage. Not fighting, but wrestling. No harm done. I was amazed. When Kay told me that Pumpkin's brother had been sold and that someone would be taking him home in the next few days, I knew that I couldn't let Pumpkin go lonely. He would be missing his companion. His buddy. His brother. So, the decision was made, and we made plans to bring him home.

When we got him home I spent a bit of time with him, hoping to keep him calm, and not stress him too much. Then we introduced him to Tori. Within minutes they were both sitting on my hand together. Like they'd been friends forever. And, now, it seems, they have been.

Pumpkin has always been a true "boy" in all things. Always on the move - places to go, toys to play with. Flying to do. Except, not too long after he joined the family, he was a bit over zealous and somehow wounded one of his blood feathers. I panicked, and ended up taking him to an emergency vet clinic about 20 miles out of town. I hadn't been through it before, and I wasn't taking any chances. For those who haven't had birds, it's important to note, they are small creatures, so even a little blood loss can be harmful. It's very important to make sure that any injured feathers are treated, or removed as the case may be. That any bleeding is quickly stopped, and any chance of infection staved off. Fortunately, everything worked out fine and Pumpkin was okay. But he had more than a few blood feather incidents in that first 6 months or so. It just seemed like he would start to heal and he would get just rowdy enough to injure himself again. I had many an urgent conversation with Kay during this time period. She would look him over, make sure all was well, and then proclaim him "all boy".

Pumpkin is doing very well these days. It took some time for him to really come around and want to hang out with me. But he and I are good friends now. Though, Tori wins the number one spot.

My Flock

2008-10-06T18:39:00.000-05:00

My flock. Aren't they something?! I was offering a treat and they were all "Don't mind if I do!". Some people might cower at the prospect of having four birds climbing on their heads, and shoulders, arms and hands. Not me. This is pure joy. It rarely fails to make me laugh with glee. Such a simple thing, and yet, it can turn a really bad day into a much better one.

Try it sometime.

The Final Countdown

2008-08-29T22:29:00.000-05:00

3...2...1...Over...Well, just about over. It's the final weekend for voting in the Hallmark Your Funny*ness card contest. The final countdown, the end of the road, the last dance, last chance for romance tonight. Oh, wait, I've segued into a Donna Summer classic.
Did someone throw the cake out in the rain yet?

Okay, this is just nuts. Wait, that's it. Some days are just nuts. Sounds like the theme of a greeting card. A really funny greeting card. One with a very amusing photo of a squirrel on it.

Enough of this craziness. The final two days of voting in the card contest are upon us. They have now clouded the online vote status in a veil of secrecy. You can still vote, but they won't show you the results.

So, maybe, just maybe (oh sure, click my heels together three times and it'll happen) when the lights come up, and the final votes are tallied, and the results are posted Mr. Squirrel will find himself a winner. Uh, probably not. But does that mean we shouldn't try?

Does it mean that all the cupcakes I baked, the cookies I baked, the fliers I printed and handed out, the people I met, the excitement I felt, the Hallmark card store tour, the t-shirts we wore, the campaigning, the printed cards available in stores, were all for naught? I think NOT! It was fun. It was a brief moment in time. One moment in time. (Oh, sorry, another diva song). It was my Warhol share of the limelight. My 15 minutes. I even got one of my cards in the mail with a request for an autograph! (Thank you, Fred!)

Maybe we should try. Just one more rally. Would'ya, could'ya, double-dare'ya. Will you vote for me please? One last time? Or maybe two? For the good times. www.hallmark.com/you

Hey, you take the good, you take the bad, and then you have...oh, don't make me say it...the facts of life...

Let us climb every mountain. We'll be strong. We'll be invicible. We'll be Squir-rel!

Thankyou, folks. Thankyouverymuch!

My Sunshine

2008-08-25T23:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, while I'm getting the birds ready for bed at night, I sing to them. Usually, the song is "You are my sunshine". Sometimes they sing along, very often they climb up on one of the playgyms, start to relax, and listen quietly, attentively. After a while, they close their eyes, twitter softly, contentedly. Occasionally, I think they expect me to let them sleep all night on top of their house on the playgyms. Eventually, I tuck them inside, one by one, and there they stay until the morning, and the sunshine, comes again.

Could we really rally?

2008-08-17T23:39:00.001-05:00

So, I logged on earlier today to vote for Mr. Squirrel, and I discovered our percentage had gone up from 2.7% to 2.8%. Huzzah! However, we were still in 13th place. Then, later this afternoon Joe logged on to place his vote, and, zippa-dee-doo, we were still at 2.8%, but in 12th place!! Yowza, Yowza, Yowza! Someone is voting for us for certain!

Could we rally? Really? Could we make it to the finish line? Catch up to that baby (who, by the way, is now a toddler)? It would take a major happening to pull that off. But, I'm grateful for the momentum. Looks like Mr. Squirrel will at least be getting a fresh bag-o-nuts, if not a weekend in Chicago with the comedy stylings of The Second City.

Thanks for voting, whoever you are!

Kimberly & Mr. Squirrel

Hallmark Summer

2008-08-16T23:47:00.001-05:00

Well, the party's (nearly) over. Come August 31, voting will end for the Hallmark "Your Funny*ness" card contest, and I will be in the running no longer. I've had a beast of a time climbing back from 13th place. I was at 12th a while back. My percentage of votes has increased, and so many people have been kind enough to take the time to vote for me. But darned if that baby, and several other cards, just seem to have me beat.

I made a fair play for the finish line. I marketed. I visited over a dozen Hallmark stores in our region. In fact, Joe and I visited four of them today. Even got asked to sign my autograph at one!

I met some interesting people along the way. I was generously given a one-year membership to the Squirrel Lovers Club after contacting the president of the club about the contest. He was so kind and supportive. Check out their website if you get a chance. More information about squirrels than you would expect to find in one place. Gregg, the president of the club, is a genuinely nice guy.

I was brave (or crazy) enough to approach complete strangers with little hand-outs about the contest and ask them to vote for me. Most were gracious enough to at least take the hand-out and pretend interest. And for those that did actually vote, thank you!

At one point there was a small article in the local paper about the contest, and myself. I got a local radio DJ to vote for me, and plug the contest on-air. Last week I baked squirrel shaped sugar cookies and sent them to work with my husband in a last-ditch effort to rack up some votes. Although most said they would vote, the numbers didn't change. I suppose the other finalists are out there campaigning, too.

I have to give thanks to my friends, family, and co-workers for being so supportive and patient. I know I've sent email after email. Chattered on about the contest at length. And everyone has been very kind about it. Some of them even wore custom-designed squirrel t-shirts to promote the card. Many of them went to Hallmark stores and purchased a card, too!

Hallmark has a new contest for the holiday season. Submissions are due at 8am on Monday. So far I haven't come up with anything to submit. I think this will be a tough contest. It's heavily illustration based, which is defnitely not a strong point of mine. I can barely draw a straight line. So, I told my husband Joe that I didn't think I would be entering. The relief on his face was evident - at least he wouldn't have to bug his co-workers to vote for me again.

I did inform him, though, that I have two photos in the local Humane Society 2009 calendar contest, and that voting starts online in September. So, um, there will be more voting requests to come. Although I don't know any of the details yet, and I don't know if I'll make the cut anyway. The pictures are of my budgies, though, and who can resist their beautiful faces? We'll see.

Anyway, it's been a real Hallmark Summer (shouldn't that be a Beach Boys song?). I'll be sad to see it end.

The Winking Game

2008-08-13T23:33:00.001-05:00

I noticed it first when I visited the pet shop and was introduced to Tori. He was so sweet, and pretty. And when I talked softly to him he paid attention. I winked at him. He winked back. Coincidence? I tried it again. He responded. This went back and forth for a bit. He didn't shy away from me, and he winked back at me. This was a good sign. This was the one.

A lot of the manuals tell you that for the first few days you should leave the bird in its new house, keep things quiet. Let it settle in before talking to it, attempting to hold it, and so on. This may be the case when you buy a bird at Petco or somewhere like that. But when you buy from a specialty breeder that hand raises the babies themselves, things are a little different. At least they were for me. Kay & Ralph are among the believers in prompt results. They know their birds. They are careful to match the right birds with the right people. They always answer any questions I have (and I have had soooo many) with such patience, and a sense of humor and compassion.

It's possible that a bird will not eat in the first day or so that they are in their new home. They are adjusting to their new surroundings. They are nervous. I hated the idea of Tori going hungry, so I was of the mindset that I would get him to eat at least a little bit. If I could get him to eat, then I knew he would be happy here. That he would be okay. When I brought him home I talked softly to him. He was listening. He sat on my finger. Eventually, I put some seed in the palm of my hand and he ate some. I was so relieved. I didn't want to put him in for the night, I just wanted to watch him. Let him know he was going to be okay, and, happy. Joe finally convinced me to tuck Tori in to his new house and let him get some sleep.

Over the next days I talked to him. Played different music for him. Got him to sit on my hand, and on my shoulder. We played the winking game. It was a secret way of communicating. If I blinked hard, squishing my eye down, he did the same. It was adorable. By the end of the week he was hanging out on my shoulder, and napping beneath my chin while I watched television.

With each bird since then I've followed the same idea. I try to make that initial connection - if they pay attention when I speak, or are intrigued by the rest of the birdies when we visit the pet shop, if they play the winking game, I know it could be a good thing. And, so far, I haven't been wrong.

**wink**

Daijobu

2008-08-12T22:45:00.001-05:00

I found my Japanese-English-English-Japanese dictionaries today. I knew I had them stowed away somewhere, it just took a little searching. I found my multilingual guide map to New York, too. Joe and I took a look at it after dinner.

I actually have a fairly easy time with pronunciation when it comes to foreign languages. What I don't have much luck with is remembering any of it! So, as I've mentioned before, when we went to New York with "the cousins from Japan", I took several translation dictionaries, and a notebook, so I could jot down things ahead of time so we could communicate as well as possible. My sentence structure was terrible, but I could at least at least convey where we were, where we were going, ask if anyone was hungry, and so on. To be honest, most of my sentences consisted of one or two words. Three, if I was really working at it. Plus a hand motion or two. The ability to play charades does come in handy.

Joe grew up in a household where his mother spoke Japanese, and his father spoke some. Strangely enough, neither Joe, nor his sister Theresa, or brother John, picked up much of the language. A phrase here and there, the ability to count in Japanese. But no real working knowledge of the language. So, it was rather amusing that on this trip I spoke better Japanese than Joe did.

One key word worth learning in Japanese is daijobu (pronounced di-jo-boo). This word is essentially translated as "okay" or "fine". However, depending on how you present it, it serves multiple purposes. Asked as a question it serves to inquire whether or not the person (or persons) you are speaking to is "okay", or in agreement. Expressed as an exclamation, it can convey that you are happy, pleased, excited, or, obviously, okay. Coupled with a slight "ta-da" of the hands, it can signal "destination achieved". Here's where it gets a little more complicated.

If you want to suggest that the group get a bite to eat, you should make eye contact with everyone, ask very slowly, and somewhat loudly, "Is anyone hungry? Hungry? (motion to stomach). I think that we (motion to yourself, then to all) should go (motion towards something) to the restaurant over there (point to restaurant) and get something to eat (motion to your mouth, then rub your tummy). Pause to allow time for confusion to settle. If this does not work, allow additional time for your co-traveler with the translation dictionaries to look up random words having to do with dinner, food, eat, and so on. Try one or two words or phrases to get the message across. If this does not work, revert once again to speaking slowly with gestures. When this fails, just hand signal to all to follow you and lead them to the nearest eating establishment.
Upon arriving, exclaim "daijobu!"

New York City, 2004

2008-08-09T21:50:00.000-05:00

There were six of us. Joe, myself, and the cousins, Haruko, Rieko, Yuri, and Tsuyoshi. We were bunking in two separate hotel rooms at The Portland Square Hotel, just a few blocks from Times Square. It was quiet enough, with small, but tidy rooms. And, thank goodness, air conditioning, since it was the height of summer and it was HOT! In the 90's.

When we arrived in the city mid-Thursday afternoon, we had parked the van at a reserved parking garage and walked the 10 city blocks to our hotel, luggage in tow. Once there, we checked in, cleaned up, and headed out for some immediate adventure.

We stopped first for some lunch, which is a bit tricky when you can't really translate the menu to your guests. We found, somehow, that steak translated well, and, so, that's what the cousins ordered. After lunch we made our way to Battery Park, and to the Ellis Island/Statue of Liberty tours. Post 9/11 the Statue of Liberty was not open inside for tours at the time, but the grounds were open. We spent some time there, then got on the ferry to go over to Ellis Island. The museum was open and we spent quite a while there looking at all the exhibits.

There is an incredible display there. It stands floor to ceiling, and, maybe, two rooms wide or more. In it there are hundreds of photographs of people that have come through Ellis Island over the decades. You walk in one direction and see all the pictures, one by one, but when you stand back and walk in the opposite direction, the display becomes a giant, waving, American flag. I remember seeing this, then pointing it out to Yuri, who is twelve. I watched her walk along looking at the photographs, and then saw a surprised look come across her face as it changed into the flag. She laughed and clapped her hands.

We took the ferry back to Manhattan, and made our way up to the Financial District, and then to Ground Zero. It was strange to look into this wide empty space in the middle of this vast, iconic, metropolis, knowing what had happened. However, I found it even stranger to look towards the cityscape from the ferry coming back from Ellis Island and realize that those two very tall trade center buildings were, indeed, missing. We found our way to the Metro and headed back to mid-town.

To be honest, I can't recall exactly what we did after that. If we had dinner, or stopped anywhere else. I can remember that we were all exhausted from the long drive, and a day full of sightseeing and walking. I do recall that once we got to our room, Joe and I just dropped down on the bed and moaned about how tired we were, how our bodies ached from all the walking, and the heat. A little while later we managed to freshen up a bit and walked up the block to Langan's New York Bar & Restaurant for a glass of wine to celebrate our first day in NYC. I've no doubt the cousins were fast asleep by then. It had been a long day.

The next morning we met in the lobby and, together, made our way to the siteseeing tour, where the cousins met up with their translator and received a two-three hour tour of the city and the surrounding buroughs. This left Joe and I a few hours together, which we spent walking the city streets, and into Central Park. As mentioned in my previous post, this is the point where romance falters and the human condition kicks in. My digestive tract revolted and we bolted for the nearest restrooms. Finally, after a few hours we found ourselves running late to meet up with the cousins after their tour of the city.

We did catch up to them. They had stopped for a bite to eat near the tour company building, so we were able to find them pretty quickly. They wanted to find a currency exchange office so that they could exchange their yen for dollars, etc. It took a while, but we finally found one.

After that they wanted to do some shopping. We got on the metro, but, somehow, I had gotten us on the wrong one. So we got off, asked a stranger for directions, and got back on the right subway car. Next up, we visited Grand Central Station. They had some shops there, but not what we were looking for. So, we had a snack in the food court, and some guy overheard us talking about where to go, and he gave us a few pointers. He said if you had only one day to shop in NYC then you had to go to Macy's. So, off we went.

Macy's is huge. A little intimidating, if you ask me. We were really looking for touristy stuff, but it wasn't easy to spot. We finally asked one of the clerks and they told us it was in the basement, or some such thing. Ooh, that's where they send the tourists.

Anyway, we made our way down there and spent some time shopping. At one point Joe had to caution his cousin about being too open with her money. She needed to be careful. We found a wad of cash lying on the floor near the checkout. Oy-vay!

Evening was approaching. We made our way back towards Times Square. Then headed to Rockefeller Plaza. Took in some of the sights. Sat for a while and just absorbed the view, watching the people come and go. In the summer the center of the Plaza is like a big party, not a skating rink. It looks so different than that familiar image. We walked by NBC, Radio City Music Hall, then made our way south towards the Empire State Building. The building featured in so many movies. So many happy endings.

You have to understand, it had been a busy day. We walked a lot. I was a bit sick for a while. It was exciting, but a little stressful, as any good vacation might be. We managed to communicate between bits of Japanese and English, but it was frustrating not to be able to just converse.

After 9/11 the security at the Empire State Building had become a maze of checkpoints, photo id's, and rules. Just getting from the lobby to the elevator exit at the observatory deck takes forever. The entire way up, from floor to floor, you have to cue up for baggage xrays, id checks, and so on. They even photograph you. (And, you can even purchase a copy of said photograph -- we didn't).

So, it's dark now. We've been on line forever. We're so close to getting to the point where we can step out on the observation deck. Just a few people in front of us. Then it's our turn, I go up the last few steps to enter the shop that goes out onto the deck, and hear someone calling to the cousins to turn around.

They are turning back away from the line and heading in the wrong direction! Where are they going? All this security! I don't know what to say because my Japanese is sooooo limited. So, what do I do? What do I do?! Well, I growl! I turn towards them and, honest to God, growl! Stomp my feet. Joe motions to me to go ahead into the shop towards the observatory deck. He will handle it. I go inside. Feel the blood rushing to my head. Not even aware of how embarrassed I should be from my display. I had a meltdown, right there in the Empire State Building, in front of maybe 100 people. I wandered around the shop waiting for them to follow. They did not. A woman came up to me, "Excuse me," she said. "Would you like a Xanax?"

I didn't accept the Xanax, but thanked her kindly. I was calming down. We had been in line a long time. The cousins couldn't wait any longer and needed to use the restroom. That's where they were headed. Perfectly logical.

Finally, they were back. We found them out on the observation deck looking at the sites. Joe and I walked around, looked at the view of the city. Amazing. We were standing together. He put his hand in his pocket, pulled it back out, held it out, opened his palm, the ring glistened. "Still want to marry me?" he asked. I'd just had a major meltdown at one of the most famous places in America, and he still asked me to marry him. What else could I say? "Oh, alright" I said.

We found the cousins and showed them the ring. They congratulated us. Took our picture. We browsed the gift shop, then made our way back out of the building to the city streets below.

August 2004: Strangers in a Strange Land

2008-08-08T21:21:00.000-05:00

Joe's father, a polish, and devout south-side Milwaukee man, spent time in the service in Okinawa, Japan. That's where he met Joe's mother, who is Japanese. His dad was persistant, won her heart, and they got married. When his time in the service was over, they came back to America, and Milwaukee, with baby Joe in tow.

Many years later, Joe and I were living together and talking marriage. Joe had purchased a ring. Well, we picked it out together. But once he had it, we had been playing a game of hide and seek with it all over the house. I was doing pretty well at finding it. But Joe wanted an opportunity to make an official proposal. I told him I wanted that ring by the end of summer (half-teasing).

We had been told that Japanese relatives were coming to visit the family towards the end of summer, but were not privy to any specific dates, names, or plans. Joe and I talked off and on about when his relatives might be coming. We should contact his folks and find out when. Find out if anyone needed a place to stay, and so on. But our timing was a little slow (as usual).

So, on a Sunday evening we received a call from Joe's parents. The cousins were in town and at their house. They wanted to meet him. For some reason I didn't go. Can't recall why. Joe called from me his parents house.

"Honey? Are you working this week?" I was inbetween jobs and temping at the time, so my schedule was somewhat flexible. I was scheduled to work part of the week, and said so. But, if needed, I could probably switch with someone. "My parents are wondering if you would escort my relatives to New York."

The scoop was...there were four cousins here from Japan. Three women (including a 12-year old girl), and one man. They had been told by many that if they were coming to America, they had to visit New York City. But they did not want to go alone. Joe's parents weren't up to traveling to New York, so they were trying to come up with a way to accommodate their cousins. Since I was temping, they hoped I would be able to get on a plane, or a train, and escort them to the city, then fly back home on my own. I told Joe to come home and we would discuss it.

While waiting for Joe to come back home, I went online and started researching. I checked plane rates, train rates, bus rates. Back in 2004 gas was much cheaper than it is today (well, in hindsight anyway). I figured the best way to handle this would be to drive to New York. We would borrow Joe's dad's van, pack it up, and drive out there. I found us great rooms just blocks from Times Square at a great rate (it wasn't even a slum). I found a parking garage where we could leave the van for a great rate and not have to worry about parking while we were there.

I presented this proposal to Joe when he got home.

We discussed it. I spoke no Japanese, so how could I possibly escort four people, that did not speak english, that I did not really know, to New York City and just dump them there all on their own? Besides, I've never been to New York City and here was an opportunity presenting itself. And, Joe had plenty of vacation time, he hadn't really taken any, so why not use up a few days worth?

The next evening we met with Joe's parents and his cousins to discuss our idea. Joe's mother served as translator, telling them our plan, and then telling us their response. They were relieved to know that they would not be left in New York City all alone.

That was Monday evening. We went home, made some calls. Made reservations for the hotel rooms online. Made a reservation for the parking online. I went out the next day and bought several English-to-Japanese-to-English dictionaries, a few New York maps and travel books, and started making notes and packing. Wednesday morning we loaded everyone into the van and started off for New York City.

Given more time to plan, I would have hired a NY college language student to come along with us on our travels and serve as translator. Joe's mom wasn't there with us, so I was piecing together sentences in a notebook so I could explain where we were, how far we were, if we were stopping at a rest area, getting food, and so on. They did know a bit of english, but not very much. The person who knew the most was Yuri, the young girl. She was learning english in school.

We quickly figured out a few words and motions to communicate, and showed maps, etc. when necessary. They had a map of NYC in Japanese, so we were usually able to compare and point out where we were going. I was able to make arrangements for them to go on a multi-language bus tour of the city where they had their own Japanese translator. You could see their entire bodies relax when they met the translator at the tour station. They would probably get a better tour of the city than Joe and I would.

The tour gave Joe and I some time to go off on our own. We decided to walk through the infamous Central Park. I was unaware, but Joe had discussed with his friends that this trip would be the perfect opportunity to offer me that engagement ring. He was hoping to take me on a carriage ride around Central Park and propose then. However...

My stomach...most likely in reaction to the stress of the impromptu trip, lack of sleep, and erratic eating, and, maybe, one too many Starbucks iced coffees (there really is one on just about every corner in NYC),...my stomach decided to revolt. So, there we were in the middle of Central Park, and I was desperate to find a bathroom. This was not cute. Not romantic. This was panic. We found one. I was a bit hesitant to go in, after all, this was Central Park in NYC. Surprisingly enough, the restroom was quiet, and pretty clean. Ah, relief. Joe waited patiently for me.

We started walking through the park again. It was mid-August. Hot. Humid. My relief didn't last long. Suddenly we were making another mad dash for the nearest restroom. We spied the Plaza Hotel not far in the distance and made a beeline for it. It's a lovely hotel. I can now highly recommend use of the restrooms there. I have no idea about the quality of the restaurants, rooms, or anything else. Just, thank goodness they have nice restrooms. I did tip generously.

So, no carriage ride, no proposal. We were all strangers in a strange land. Strangers to each other, strangers to the city. We were running late to meet up with the cousins after their tour. What would happen next...

Items not referred to in the manual...

2008-07-29T20:41:00.000-05:00

The manuals tell you what they like to eat. What they should eat. What they shouldn't eat. What chemicals are dangerous to them. What to do if they injure a blood feather. How often to clean their houses. That they need indirect sunlight and exercise time, toys, and companionship. They tell you that the males will flaunt themselves a bit in wooing a mate. The females are a bit diva-ish. They will talk if you keep at it. They can learn tricks if you wish to take the time and they seem open to it. That you will become one of the flock. And so on...

I've gone through several of these manuals. Not word-for-word, mind you. But there are some things I guess you just need to figure out for yourself. They don't tell you, for instance, that if you start with one bird and it learns to talk that once you bring home a companion bird it will most likely revert to mainly bird-talk. Within the 10 months that Tori had come home to live with us he had developed a pretty nice vocabulary. "Hello", "Hi!", "Tori, Tori, Tori", "Pretty Bird", "Tori is a pretty bird", "How was your day?" and "Hello Sweetheart". And a few others that we couldn't quite make out. Amazing.

Once we brought Pumpkin home, however, Tori reverted to mainly speaking bird talk. After all, he didn't need to converse with me in my language anymore. He does still say "Pretty Bird" and "I love you", so all is not lost. And, in fact, has taught both of those phrases to all of the other birds. I think they say "I love you" a lot. Joe claims that only I can hear it. Hmpf!

Tori and I had a pretty strong bond. When Pumpkin came along that eased for a while. He still loved me, but there was a real birdie for him to hang with now. He and Pumpkin would talk to each other, preen each other, feed each other, disagree with each other. They would play with the same toys, and bicker about who got to eat out of which food dish. I was handy for treats like broccoli and carrots. Eventually, Tori came back 'round, and Pumpkin started to hang out on my head and preen me.

They don't mention in the books how a bird might have a good time all on his own. It took me a few views to realize what Pumpkin was doing with the big ball of rope fringe on the playgym. He was enjoying himself, and how. Oh, my. I called Joe into the room - "Honey? Is he doing what I think he's doing?" Joe's eyes got wide, he said "Oh my God!" and quickly left the room. I guess so.

For a long time it seemed Pumpkin was the only one doing a drum solo. No big deal, right? I talked to Kay at the pet shop. She told me a few stories of very "happy" birdies and their human companions unhappiness with their selection of "happy places". The shoulder, a balding head. I guessed that I was lucky.

Tori likes to keep me company sometimes. He'll sit on my arm, shoulder or hand for what seems like hours. He'll chatter, preen, nap, demand my attention. Sometimes he likes to pick at my teeth, which is another story for another time.

But, one day, he was sitting on my hand, chattering away, and the next thing I knew he seemed to be getting very excited. He was running back and forth across my lower arm and the back of my hand. His feathers were standing upright, he was chattering wildly. Pecking at my fingers. Nipping at my fingernails. What was going on, I asked him. He kept pulling at one of my fingers. Pulling it upward towards him, then chattering at it and pecking at it. Next thing I know he's feeding my fingertip seeds. And, then..."Honey, could you come in here a minute?...Is he doing what I think he's doing?"...Joe stops dead in his tracks..."Oh...my...God!" And makes a mad dash for the living room. I guess so.

This happens off and on for a few weeks. I resist the urge to yell at Tori and tell him "No." After all, he's just doing what comes naturally, and he's not harming anything, or anyone. He's happy. He's expressing his love for...my hand. Hmmm...

One evening Tori stops over for a visit and eventually begins his dance while I'm working at the computer. I only partially pay attention. Before I know it he is going all-out and rubbing himself madly. One wing expands, then the next. Both wings stretch out and wrap around my entire hand. All the feathers on his back and neck are standing upward. He is in rapture. He extends his entire body, and then sits upright. Now quiet. He blinks at me once or twice. Then begins to grind his beak in contentment. Eventually he leaps to my shoulder and sits there for a while, grinding his beak. Letting out a soft twitter of happiness now and then. Then Pumpkin calls, and he's off to play.

This was not in the manual. Probably a good reason for that.

Thank you very mulch

2008-07-27T23:09:00.000-05:00

Late Saturday afternoon, near the end of the work day at Lighting Accessories, I received a phone call from my husband, Joe. I could hear the panic in his voice immediately and asked what was wrong. There was background noise on the phone. He was outside. "Honey? he asked. Did you order a delivery of mulch?!" I did not, and told him so. I think I would have remembered that.

I asked how much there was. He said a truckload. (Cue hysterical laughter here...) It had filled up my entire car port beside the garage. I wouldn't be parking there when I got home.

He mowed the lawn that afternoon and had gone inside to take a shower. Once out of the shower he was dressing in the bedroom and looked out the window to survey his work, and discovered the delivery. No one had come to the door. No delivery receipt. Nothing. No clue as to where it came from.

I asked him if he was kidding. I very often play pranks on him, this might be a little revenge. No, he swore it was the truth. He's not the best actor, and judging by the sound of his voice, I knew it was authentic. So, I headed home from work thinking about how we would figure out who it belonged to.

I got home and parked down the block and walked the rest of the way home. When I walked into the backyard Joe was standing with the pile of mulch still looking bewildered. "Honey, I said, that's a lot of mulch."

We asked a few neighbors if they had seen the delivery truck. Nope. We walked around it. We took pictures. We determined it was very fresh. Possibly a maple tree. We joked about it being a mob drop and that there were woodchipped bodies buried in there. Okay, that was me. Joe didn't think it was so amusing. We debated how long we would have to keep it before we could start giving it away - we have no need for it. I'd already installed enough mulch this season. We went online and started surfing legal advice websites for information -- would we be responsible for payment if contacted by the deliverer? We have plans for the upcoming weekend, company coming. How would we get rid of all of that mulch by then?

We made a few phone calls. Mainly to share the story, because it's funny. We think. So did everyone we talked to.

After a while we took another walk around the neighborhood. We found the recipients. They live just across the alley from us and weren't home when it was delivered. They were very apologetic. We told them not to worry. They said they would clear it out right away. They did. Joe and I went out for dinner and by the time we got back they had it all moved away. That was a lot of work to do in just two hours or so.

Not the most exciting ending to this story, I know. But for a while it was damn funny. Damn funny. We'll have to keep that in mind. We've been known to pull a prank or two...

You've got to have friends

2008-07-22T23:21:00.000-05:00

Look at those two. Pumpkin and Tori. I often find them sitting like this. So close. Chattering to each other, or just sitting quietly. Sometimes with their eyes closed, sometimes not. Sometimes Tori is chattering quietly and Pumpkin just nudges in close, closer, closest. They have been friends a long time now. Nearly two years.

From the first day we brought Pumpkin home they were buds. Eager to be near each other. Not that they didn't have issues. Pumpkin is like that little brother that wants to follow big brother everywhere. To do what he does. Eat what he eats. Play with his toys, and so on. But their bond is a strong one. And though we've added the adorable Miss Pixel, and the playful Texter, they are as strong of friends as ever. And that's encouraging to see. To watch. To know.

Because, even though life brings constant change, some things remain true. Though the dynamics may be different, the amount of time spent together altered, knowing someone for who they are, for where you've been together, what you've been through. That's something we can hold on to. Something special. Everyone needs friends. Parakeets, even.

There's no place like home, sweet budgie home

2008-07-19T22:55:00.000-05:00

I've been procastinating. Certainly nothing new. About two months ago, now, we purchased a larger bird house, to replace the two houses we've been using. Splitting the kids up during the day when we're at work, or out of the house for one reason or another. At night, occasionally, they pair up as well. Although, more often Miss Pixel has her own place, and the boys share a budgie bachelor pad.

It's a lot of upkeep, two houses. And, I thought it would be nicer for them to all be together in one house, albeit one with plenty of room for each to spread out. They really like their own little "space" at night time.

So, we bought the bigger house and I put it on my desk, and put the big playgym on it, so the birds would get used to it. They enjoyed the big playgym there, but had no interest in climbing down and inside the new house. Even after I'd filled it up with toys and food.

So, now, finally, I decided it was time to make the move. I would clean all of the houses, and rearrange things, so the new house took the place, literally, of the original two. I moved Tori's house over to the desk, so as not to traumatize them, and shifted the playgyms around a bit. They seemed okay with the playgym shift, but, once again, had no interest in checking out the new digs. I convinced Tori to go in for a minute or two. Long enough for a snack. Pumpkin sat on a perch for about 30 seconds, and that was it. I'm worried. This is going to be difficult. I can't get Miss Pixel or Texter to go near the door. They keep flying off.

So, last night, all four of them slept in Tori's house. It was a little crowded, since they all want to sleep in the same spot. So, there was a bit of a tussle once they were tucked in. Not for too long, though.

Today I worked, but Joe was home, so they were out all day. Joe said they didn't go inside the new house at all. They did go into Tori's house for snacks.

Tonight I tweaked the set up a little bit. Put fresh food and water in the new place, and when it was time to tuck them in, that's where I placed each one of them. To my surprise, little resistance. In fact, they all found a comfy spot, and within minutes were chirping at me to turn on the night-night music and turn out the lights. They are all now sound asleep.

I made this out to be such a big deal. I was so worried about traumatizing them. Parakeets are not the most comfortable with surprises. They like time to adapt to things. If you put a new toy on a playgym, they will stay away from it for a while. Won't go near it. So, I thought this would be a long drawn-out process.

Perhaps having the house sitting on my desk did help them acclimate a bit after all.

Of course, there's always tomorrow. They may revolt.

What music the birdsong brings...

2008-07-15T21:56:00.000-05:00

Their chatter in the early morning gets a little louder, and more demanding as the sun rises higher. They hear the least subtle move. When I sit up in bed, fluff a pillow, attempt to sleep a little longer, they get a little louder. "Let us out! We want to play!" Well, they don't actually say that, but it's pretty clear what those calls mean.

I get up, let them out to play. They call to one another, "Come out! Come out!", until all four are out and buzzing the room. Flitting from playgym to playgym. I turn on the radio, or a CD for them. And, sometimes, I go back to bed for a while and listen to them play as I close my eyes a bit longer. Occasionally, on a gray, sunless day, they will sleep in a bit, and I may actually have to wake them.

They keep me company as I get ready for work. Tori loves to sit on my shoulder, arm or hand while I blow-dry my hair. Sometimes Pumpkin joins him. Some days even Miss Pixel wants in on the fun. I don't know why they like it so much. Is it the sound of the hair dryer they like? I use a diffuser, and I don't point it in their direction, so it's not the blowing air. Or maybe they just want to distract me. Because by the time I've dried my hair, it will not be long before I tuck them back into their houses for the day while I go off to work.

As soon my husband or I arrive home we let them out to play again. They can hear the key turn in the lock and start calling to be let out. They play. They snack. They chase each other around. Take turns landing on my head while I'm at the computer. Throw their toys on the floor. Jump in the "swimming pool" I put out for them. Sing along with the radio or CD, sit together and have parakeet conversations, take a nap. Sometimes one or two will nap on my shoulder, softly chirping with contentment now and then.

When I put on a new CD Tori and Pumpkin often run over to the CD player to watch and see what I'm doing. Waiting for the music to start again. They have favorites, believe it or not. A most recent is a New Orleans tribute CD. Others are Iris Dement, Van Morrison, David Gray, and some compilations I've put together. They have a special Night-Night CD of celtic music I put together for Tori and Pumpkin when it was just the two of them. I put it on when I'm getting them ready for bed. They know it's Night-Night music. Once it is on they are ready to go inside and be tucked in for the night. It's amazing.

Sometimes I'll be at the computer a little longer than they would like, once they've gone into bed, and I'll realize that one of them is yelling at me to "turn the damn thing off". So, I'll turn it off and say goodnight, and off they go to dreamland.

They are remarkable creatures. Angels do have wings.

Miss Pixel would like your attention

2008-07-11T23:50:00.001-05:00

Miss Pixel wants to remind you to vote, vote, vote for Mr. Squirrel and his card at the contest website www.hallmark.com/you. Well, okay, maybe not. What she really wants is the attention of her three male companions - Tori, Pumpkin, and Texter. All of whom were playing up above her house, and not inside, with her. Check out the video and see how she makes her feelings known.

As you can see by the wild fluttering of her wings, Miss Pixel is clearly demanding something. It is my interpretation that she wants her friends attention. I'm pretty sure I'm correct.

She is the only one of the four that does this. A short while after we brought her home I noticed she would do this when Tori and Pumpkin were hanging out together, or spending time with me. Although she is very fond of me, I'm certain it was Tori and Pumpkin's attention she was looking for.

The dynamics were interesting. At first it seemed as though Tori and Miss Pixel might be an item. See the video "A Very Awkward Moment" for further example. After a while, it became clear that Pumpkin was not going to back off in the pursuit of Miss Pixels affections. I was worried that Tori would be lonely without his best friend, Pumpkin, to pal around with. And that he would feel rejected by Miss Pixel. (Oh, how we humans do like to project our feelings onto others...) Anyway, Tori did have me to play with. Our strong bond has continued to grow. And, after a while, the trio did seem to settle in to their places.

But, then, we added Texter. Another male who definitely is fond of Miss Pixel. Miss Pixel does seem to return some of that affection, but, so far, I think the majority of her affections are reserved for Pumpkin, and, herself. She is a confident little Diva after all.

More on this little parakeet soap opera another time...

Hay-elp! Hay-elp! Someone forgot to vote...

2008-07-09T22:54:00.000-05:00

Well, gee, gosh-darn-doggone-it anywayzzzzz...we're slipping in the polls again. We had finally gotten up to 2.6% and now we've slipped back down to 2.5%. Ohhhh, fudgsicle! On my visit to the Hallmark contest website tonight I discovered a decline. I'm sure it's just a temporary glitch. We'll bounce back and then some, right?

Meanwhile, Mr. Squirrel is dreaming of a winter with lots of nuts in store.

There are only 53 voting days left in the contest, folks. Let's give that cute little baby a run for his money, honey. Remember: www.hallmark.com/you (vote for the squirrel)

I promise, I'll send good wishes out to you all.

Many thanks,

Kimberly & Mr. Squirrel (seen here napping on a sunny day this past winter)

The Mourning Dove

2008-07-04T23:58:00.001-05:00

I discovered a baby mourning dove today, while working in the yard. He (or she) was relaxing underneath a lawn chair. Waiting for mama bird to come back with lunch, I suppose. Anyway, I was able to snap a few pictures. Here's one...

Happiness is a birdie on my head

2008-07-04T23:42:00.000-05:00

Tonight Texter was brave. He was curious. He wanted to go where the other birdies go. Onto my nose, eyeglasses, and head. I can tell the relationship is going well when my birdies finally decide to sit on my head. Why is it so interesting to them? Because that's the highest point on my person, and they want to sit up there? Because my hair is up there and they like to preen me? Miss Pixel likes to preen my eyebrows and eyelashes. It tickles, and its sweet.

So, tonight, as I was getting the birdies ready for bedtime, Texter decided it was time for him to take the leap. To see what it was all about. To preen me. Then, of course, the others had to join him. Miss Pixel, then Pumpkin. Tori took a seat on my shoulder instead. Before you know it, Texter will be flying over to sit atop my head while I'm at the computer, just like the others do.

And so, I'm happy.

Is this thing on?

2008-07-03T23:20:00.000-05:00

Just wondering if anyone is out there reading this...

Is it age, or the parakeets?

2008-07-03T22:04:00.000-05:00

I've always liked animals. We had cats and dogs, the occasional mouse, gerbil or hamster growing up. I even had a wonderful parakeet named Hutch for many of my teenage years. I was never much of a dog person. Not that I would be mean to one. In fact, I get very upset if I see one mistreated. They're just not my thing.

When my husband Joe and I first moved in together, I expressed an interest in getting a bird. I wasn't certain, however, if it was the right time. We both worked long hours, and I worried about it being alone all day. Plus we were adapting to living together, and that in itself was an adventure for two people used to being on their own.

Finally, a few years later, after we were married, I decided it was time. I gave Joe the option - baby or bird. Well, I was joking, really. Both in our 40's by the time we married, kids weren't in the plan. I've never really had that deeply felt longing. An occasional yearning, sure. But it just never felt right. So, we brought Tori home, and thus began our parakeet adventures. And my mellowing...

Like many parents, I have, on occasion, projected my emotions/perceptions onto the birds. I've decided that they are sad, or hurt, or lonely. Sometimes I think my perceptions are right, after all, I know them well. But I can go a bit overboard.

But aside from that, I started to look adoringly at dogs out for walks with their owners. At stray cats and kittens in the neighborhood. I convinced Joe to put up a tarp over our yard swing, and put in crates with warm fleece blankets to keep the kitties warm over the winter. I put out food for them. Took pictures of them playing in the snow. I started looking into rescuing them. So far that hasn't worked out.

I now talk to the wild birds in the yard. I talk to Mr. Squirrel (of Hallmark fame). I had a rather one-sided conversation with a baby mourning dove the other day. He/she was resting comfortably under one of our lawn chairs.

We've put out feeders for the wild birds. I've even taken to talking to spiders and ants, and other critters, putting them outside of the house instead of squashing them. It just feels better not to destroy them. After all, what's the point. I haven't, however, crossed this spiritual threshold with centipedes. I hate them. I just do. Fortunately, I don't see them too often.

Early this spring I was doing some cleaning. And discovered an ant on the counter. I decided to take it outside, not kill it. I got it to crawl onto a piece of paper to take it out. But, when I turned to go outside, I knocked over a diet coke and it spilled all over the kitchen floor. I took the ant outside and released it. Returned to the kitchen to clean up the spill, and slipped on some ice cubes and did the splits falling to the floor. I haven't done the splits since high school gymnastics, and even then, not really. But this was authentic. And I felt it. The muscles in my legs pulled in ways I didn't know were possible. I sat for a moment on the wet floor, and then slowly got up. I was sore for a day or two. Good karma and clean kitchen floors. I guess it was worth it.

So, the question is...is all this goodwill due to the mellowing that comes with age (not necessarily with hot flashes), or is it a byproduct of having these wonderful birds as companions? (I'm sure my sweet husband has something to do with it as well).

I still swat at mosquitoes. After all, they want my blood. But I also had a brief conversation with a firefly the other night. Well, I did the talking...

Thank you, thank you, it's working!

2008-07-03T21:40:00.000-05:00

Huzzah! Someone is out there listening/reading/voting. I logged on to the Hallmark contest website today and, lo' and behold, my percentage of votes has increased from 2.3% to 2.6%! Seeing as how I've been stuck at 2.3% for quite some time now, it's a vast improvement. So a great big THANK YOU to all the voters out there! And for those of you spreading the word as well, Muchas Gracias big time!

If any of you have been watching the stats, you may notice that some of them have changed. Still, that darned (but cute) baby is still in the lead. I'm not one to pull the bottle from a baby's mouth, but I'd like to catch up to that little rubber baby buggy bumper. So, keep voting, Please.

I've decided to try a new tactic to get more votes. I came up with the idea of making sugar cookies in the shape of a squirrel, and including with them a note on the contest along with the website address. But first I had to find a squirrel cookie cutter. Not an easy task. Wasn't exactly the hardest task either. I found one at Joann Fabrics & Crafts. However, it was one of a set of 50 animal cookie cutters. But, 50 cookie cutters for $9.99 - not such a bad deal, right? Besides, I'm sure I can make use of some of the other critters at some point.

I did a little shopping, and took my cookie cutter kit and got in line at the check out. The woman behind me in line joked that she was curious what I needed 50 cookie cutters for. I told her that, actually, I only needed the squirrel, which she thought was very funny. Then I asked if she would like to know why. She was a little reluctant, but said "sure". So, I explained about the Hallmark contest and how this was my new marketing/bribery plan to get more votes. By the time we both had checked out and left the store, I had given her a card with all the voting information on it and asked for her vote. And, she had shared with me a story about a crow that visits her backyard on a regular basis. He picks up stale bread at the Uno restaurant near her neighborhood, then brings it to her yard where he dips it in the birdbath to soften it, and then feasts away. I told her that warranted video, not just a photo!

I received an email from my cousin, Deb, who was in a Hallmark store recently and found my card. Out shopping on her own, she wanted to show the card to someone, and struck up a conversation with one of the other shoppers in the store and told her that the card was by her cousin. So, now, members of my extended family are getting in on the act of approaching total strangers. No word, though, on whether she convinced this stranger to get online and vote.

Well, that's the latest news regarding Mr. Squirrel. Keep voting America. If anyone needs any animal shaped cookie cutters, just let me know!

Kimberly

Awkward Moments

2008-06-28T20:02:00.001-05:00

Living with parakeets is a joy. Presently, we have four of them. Tori, Pumpkin, Miss Pixel and Texter. My husband, Joe, worries that I will come home with another at any time. Not that he doesn't like them. He does. But he worries. Or so he says.

The babies, as we call them, are all pretty easy going, happy birds. Each has its own distinct personality. Tori was my first, and we have a pretty strong bond. He was talking quite a bit, with his best phrase being "How was your day?". But once Pumpkin came along, Tori decided that, aside from the occasional "pretty bird" or "I love you", he would just talk parakeet talk.
He and Pumpkin got along well from the start. Although Pumpkin can be a bit of a stinker, and likes to follow Tori around, wants to eat what he's eating, play with what he's playing with. Pretty much the same as a younger sibling will shadow an older one. But, at times, when they sit close together, chatting, or one chatting away and the other listening closely, with his eyes closed, they seem like they've been friends forever.

Tori is what I call my intellectual. He likes to sit quietly and listen to music. Sometimes he will sing along beautifully, joyfully. He loves to sit on my shoulder, and, since he was very young, really enjoys sitting atop my nose. Early on he would sit on my glasses for the longest time while I read a magazine, or watched television. He waits eagerly for me to get out the hair dryer in the morning when I'm getting ready for work. For some reason, he loves to sit on my hand, or my shoulder while I dry my hair (I use a diffuser, and never point the dryer in his direction).

Pumpkin came along second. He was one of a pair of brothers. The brother was adopted, and I thought it was just too sad that he was all alone without his brother, so he came home to live with us, and Tori.

Pumpkin is always moving. Rarely still. Always checking out what's going on, and very eager for all the others to come out and play. He was very shy with me for a while, so I didn't push it. Once he was ready, he was flying over to sit on my head, or hand, or to help Tori clean my teeth. (check out the youtube video here)

Miss Pixel was chosen by the boys. I had taken them to visit Kay, (the pet shop owner/breeder where we've found them) for nail trimmings. When we go to the shop we visit the other birds. On that particular day Miss Pixel decided that we were of interest to her. Both Tori and Pumpkin perked up, and chatted at her. She came right to the front of her cage and answered back. I talked with her a bit, and she answered back sweetly. I figured she might be the next one, and discussed it with Kay. Tori and Pumpkin were boys. Miss Pixel could add a whole new dynamic to the scene. Kay suggested I talk it over with Joe first. We had decided the next bird would be named Pixel. But since it turned out to be a girl, we decided to call her Miss Pixel. A fitting name, actually. She's a bit of a diva. But, very, very sweet. She was sitting on my finger and chatting with me the first night we had her home. It took a while for her to really trust me, but she and the boys got along very well. There have been a few romantic triangles and awkward moments since she came along. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYKUau7SzMg

Texter was chosen in much the same way. I took the babies in for pedicures, and we visited the birdies at the store. Tori showed a keen interest in Texter, and Texter seemed very interested as well. Both were hanging from the fronts of their cages and just quietly observing each other. Again, I went home and discussed it with Joe. The next day I went back for Texter. By the end of the evening, he was hanging out with the gang.

Not that there haven't been surly moments between them all. A few scuffles here and there, but no injuries, no malice. Just, hey, that's my toy, my swing, my perch.

We have no plans to add another right now. But that could change...