August 5, 2012


Hummingbirds & corkscrews

Ever watched a hummingbird? They never settle on anything, and it exhausts me just watching them. The last one I saw was when I was on the deck at the cottage a couple of weeks back. I heard the unmistakable thrumming - well, I guess that's a lie; I often mistake that noise for a distant airplane at first - but looked up to see the bird. The problem with hummingbirds is that if you glance quickly, you first think it might be a large bug, which makes you jump because it's such a damned ugly bug. Then you realize it is instead a tiny bird, and somehow that makes it far cuter. Perspective is everything, it would seem.

It bugs me however, that they don't sit down. Real birds take a load off, at least once in awhile. I drove past a highwire yesterday, just as a whole pack/flock/group of birds were swooping in to do their big sit. A whole string of them queued up on the wire, one after another. There was some jostling going on, and it reminded me of when we used to have to go to pep rallies in the school gym and my friends and I would all try to sit on the same bleacher, and eventually have to scooch over to make room. The birds were scooching, though I'm sure they weren't there to clap for a losing football team and roll their eyes at the cheerleaders who thought they were better than us, even though only one of them could sort of do the splits.

I have mourning doves in my backyard, and the things are so lazy they walk everywhere. Seriously. They forage around in the weeds (there is no grass) just like the squirrels and bunnies I have. I will see something moving, get ready to make that stupid noise I make when I see a bunny (the boys now roll their eyes, and no, I can't do the splits) and then realize it is a bird. A bird with wings, too lazy to use them.

I put out stale bread and old popcorn and stuff for this zoo I keep in my backyard. Ari was eating corn on the cob on the deck last night, and a wee bunny was eyeing it. I considered tossing down a cob, but then all I could picture was a raccoon in the middle of the night eating corn on the cob, and I didn't. I tossed out some stale taco shells the other day, and only the squirrels would go near them. Expect for one, who gives me the side eye and reminds me he's gluten free.

I'm typing this around JoJo's Rubenesque form lying on my lap. She's been cacking up too many hairballs, so I found her brush and now I brush her. She actually likes it, unless I touch *that* spot by mistake and then she turns into something from the Exorcist and draws blood. Ten minutes later I've barely staunched the blood, and she's back on my lap deciding we can try again.

It's dark and raining here, and I'm supposed to be doing touch up painting in My Nearly Done Bathroom. Instead I'm doing laundry, paying bills and staring at a hallway clogged with garbage bags full of clothes to drop off somewhere. I decided to do my spring cleaning. I have a closet that has the normal row of hangers in front, then another behind it. Way behind it. If I go back there, we tie a rope around my ankle to pull me out. I tossed things that have been back there for a decade.

The good thing about cleaning my bedroom? The things I find: the party pack of 9Vs to change the smoke detectors, the fitted sheet for that set of sheets I haven't been able to use, two pairs of black sandals I forgot I bought, a Shopper's bag with shampoo and stuff in it, a red sweater I lost and love, another red sweater I lost and hate, three chargers to things I no longer own, a stack of Vanity Fairs for Roz, 9 scrunchies the cats had chased under the dresser, and a rechargeable phone I've been accusing the boys of losing.

I was dumping my purse upside down yesterday to pay for a coffee at the bookstore. I knew I had a crapload of change, and there was no lineup. As the guy patiently waited, I stared what had fallen into my hand: a video card, a silver hoop earring, a boarding pass, a safety pin, a nail file, a mini flashlight, a mini screwdriver and over 22 bucks in change. I used to always have a corkscrew, but I've had too many confiscated at customs. That, and Ari was horrified one day when he was little to discover that I carried a corkscrew with me. "Oh my god, you have a CORKSCREW IN YOUR PURSE?". I can still hear him.

I'm still missing a white leather jacket (do not worry: I bought another one), and we're still down a phone. Ask Roz about her earrings some time. I dream of a day where everything is in its place and I don't lose things. Dream big or go home.

4 Comments:

Blogger DJW said...

You can drop the clothes at the Bibles For Missions store by Easterbrooks on New, and reward your good deed with a milkshake!

DJW

August 06, 2012 8:12 AM  
Blogger DJW said...

...and maybe pick up a new corkscrew or 2

August 06, 2012 8:13 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Or call the CP people, they pick up all your bags of stuff at your front door.

August 06, 2012 3:58 PM  
Anonymous Padraig said...

Or the Diabetes folk who'll do the same. Yes, please call them and help lower my blood sugar.
22 bucks in change!!? How did you lift your purse up to the counter?

August 07, 2012 4:46 PM  

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