Bird Brain Part 2

A very curious thing happened yesterday as I was writing the blog about Bird Brain and how annoying it was that Bird Brain kept slamming into the window in my office, every 38 seconds or so. The curious things was that as I was finishing the blog post, Bird Brain disappeared and did not return again all day.

I immediately wondered what magical powers blogging had. Could I, by merely posting about something really annoying, have it go away like Bird Brain did? My daughter and I marveled about what a strange coincidence it was that the minute I wrote about Bird Brain, he took off. Then my daughter started annoying me while I was trying to work and I had to threaten to write a blog post about her to see if my theory of having creatures that annoy me disappear.

I remained surprised and proud over my blog superpowers for the rest of the day and night. Until this morning, when once again, Bird Brain was at it. In fact, he seems to have doubled his efforts and as I write this, the time between intervals of window crashing seems to have decreased to every 25 seconds. I guess I will have to figure another way to get rid of Bird Brain.

Bizarrely, I was reading David Sedaris' latest book, When You Are Engulfed In Flames and he has a chapter, Aerial, devoted to how he contended with birds that wanted to get into every window of his home in Normandy (I guess Bird Brain looks relatively tame in comparison). His solution was to put up photos of the 9/11 hijackers which Hugh, his partner had blown up and worked some artistic magic on, and the covers of various albums (from Hugh's collection) showing singers' faces, in each window. He found that the faces were what kept the birds away. Now, I would try this, but I think the neighbors would be a little put off by the "faces" in every window.

Sedaris had already tried the obvious Scarecrow to no avail. So, no scarecrow, no magical blog superpowers, no LP covers or photos. Anyone have a better idea? I have tried telling Bird Brain to give it up, to evolve, but he won't listen...

Bird Brain

"Oh, what a cute little bird!" I imagine this is what you are thinking as you look at the image above. I, on the other hand, am thinking, that I finally got the moron to sit still long enough to get photographic evidence of it. This seemingly harmless little Robin has managed to make working from my home office, our sunroom, nearly impossible.

Today is Monday. Last Friday morning, as I sat down to work, I was met with the sound of repeated crashing noises, not even 8 feet behind my head. I turned around to investigate and there, on the branches of one of our rhodedenderons was our little friend, Bird Brain, as I have come to call him. He didn't stay there very long. Instead, he made what had to have been his 22rd attempt to crash through one of the sunroom windows. The attempts come reliably every 38 seconds or so.

I am not sure what the exact learning curve of a bird is, but unfortunatley, for my sake, despite crashing into the window all day for the last four days and running, neither is Bird Brain. I am not the only one who has been annoyed and unable to work under the constant crashing of Bird Brain against the window. My husband likes to hop on my computer over the weekend, and it seems to have been a distraction to his Dungeons and Dragons Game. My daughter has even noticed it despite having the Disney.com channel blaring while playing on Club Penguin. The whole family is annoyed and has different theories.

My husband's theory is that Bird Brain is trying to build a nest in the sun room. I am thinking that Bird Brian is fixating on the pub sign above my desk which has an English landscape scene in it. My guess is that Bird Brain thinks the landscape is real and keeps trying to fly through it. My daughter hasn't hazarded a guess but likes to marvel at all the bird poop all over the rhodedenderon leaves where Bird Brain likes to perch in between flight attempts/crashes. My thought on that is that he has stressed himself out so much he has made himself sick to his stomach.

Our bedroom closet is over this sunroom. Early this morning as I was getting dressed I heard thudding noises and was momentarily startled. I imagined an intruder in our living room. Then I remembered Bird Brain. Of course, he would be up early. What is that saying again? "The early bird gets the worm?" However, in this case, it is "the early Bird (Brain) gets the window"...and gets the window, and gets the window, and gets the window...

A Happy Medium

You have heard the saying before "the medium is the message." Well, today the message is the medium. Medium is what I have been seeking in some ways and what I have ended up with in others.

Take our new dog Hanna for instance. We love to speculate on how big she is going to get. We used to have a big dog (a samoyed), Kramer. So, I was used to having a big dog like Kramer and thought that is what I wanted when Kramer passed away and we were ready to welcome a new dog into our lives. Then we spent a few weeks in the UK with our friends Mary Jane and Rick and their little Westie Sophie, and the kids convinced me that a little dog just like Sophie was what they wanted. Okay, I agreed. I filled out the Westie rescue paperwork and got myself mentally prepared for a small dog.

Those who know me know that patience is not my strongest suit. So, after a month with no replies and no leads on Westie rescues, I went on Petfinder and started looking at other dogs. To make a long story short, along came Hanna, who was advertised as a border collie lab mix. That is what her mother was anyway. Watching her develop and hearing her "howl" outside at times, we are pretty confident that Hanna's father must have been 100% beagle. No matter, she is really cute, has a great disposition and we love her, all 28ish pounds of her at almost 9 months. Though at first I wanted a big dog, then the kids convinced me to get a little dog, we are ending up with a happy medium, by the name of Hanna.

On the other hand, quite literally, I really am seeking medium sized dishwashing gloves. I had a pair of smalls that were way too small. Then somehow I ended up buying ones that would have been comfortable only on Lurch. Add to that the fact that I kept forgetting to get new gloves when I went to the store. Finally, this week I remember to buy new gloves. After literally scaling the supermarket shelf (why they put the gloves hanging over the very top shelf is beyond me. We all know it is us little women who do the dishes and even if it were the men who did them, do you honestly think they would wear gloves to protect their hands?) I found myself trying to remember if I had originally bought medium or small. Paranoid about getting gloves that were too big again I opted to "play it safe" and got the small size.

Well the small size is definitely not too big. In fact, you would probably be amused at the nightly gyriations I perform in front of the sink after I have done the dishes and am trying to remove the gloves that have now been suctioned to my skin because they are so tight. In the end, I should have chosen the medium. Maybe I will remember next time, but given that I am now over 40 and can't seem to remember much, don't bet on it.

Dear reader, my message is this: learn from my lessons and seek the happy medium. I don't think you will go wrong, or too big or too small.

Tank of America

I had to make a major deposit today for work of lots of cash and checks. I didn't want to be carrying this kind of money around, so I made sure I was at the bank right at 9:00am-the advertised opening time. This was at Bank of America's location in the center of my town.

Bank of America-yes, that bank, the one with pretty big image problems (even bigger than most). So, you would think given all of the bad publicity that the bank has been getting, that the employees, who, unlike most of the rest of America, still have jobs, would show up on time for them and open the bank on time. That would be asking too much apparently.

There were three of us crowded in the vestibule, waiting for the stroke of 9:00am. Then the strokes of 9:01 and 9:02 came and went respectively. Then I decided to knock on the door and interrupt the group breakfast the employees were having in the far corner. You would think this would rouse them to open the doors and run to their posts. Well you would think wrong. They made brief eye contact and kept eating and chatting.

Apparently, they must have been waiting for the teller manager, because when she came past us with her Dunkin Donuts breakfast in tow at 9:05 and told us we couldn't follow her in until "they" opened the doors, "they" suddenly leapt to and came to life.

Now, as I shared with the other two individuals waiting with me, I am baffled that these folks can't be ready to serve the public at the advertised time. This is especially so when you figure that they still get away with working "bankers hours" of 9-4 when the rest of us have to put in a whole day's work. Leaving that aside again, the irony too was that we were all making deposits. So much for the banks not being able to get money to hand out in loans. Maybe if they opened up in time they would get more money! The deposit I was making was for my employer, if it was my own money, I would move to another smaller bank, where the employees show up on time and are eager to serve you.

The Magazine Queen Abdicates

Slowly but surely, I am cancelling my magazine subscriptions. House Beautiful, Elle Decor and the like were all fun and useful when I first moved in and needed ideas for decorating. They were also more fun when I was in the mood to spend money on such things. Those days are gone. Just like the rest of America, my wallet is now under lock and key.

Except for the references to botox and plastic surgery, I used to enjoy reading More magazine. It seemed like a cool badge of honor for us over-forty types. Now I look at the magazine and think the name More rather ironic. I think I would be more willing to pick it up and read it if it was called Less. Truthfully though, a bonus reason for getting rid of these magazines is that I never get around to reading them and then feel guilty about not doing so. I don't need another source of guilt, especially when I am paying good money for it.

You might be thinking to yourself, so she is cancelling a few magazines, what is the big deal? Well, let's put it this way, when I lived in the UK, I used to give all of my old magazines to my friend Mary Jane. Her husband once asked me if I had been stealing from a doctor's office. He couldn't believe the volume of magazines coming through the door. (I must admit to still having a weakness for those Brit magazines-sometimes I go to Borders and finger the few they carry for old times sake). So the magazine industry is going to take a hit, but it can't be helped.

The great magazine blackout is not the only change going on in my home. Here is the scoop: I am no longer dating those guys Ben & Jerry. The affair had lasted for years and we saw each other a few nights a week, despite my being married. Sadly, I am still unfaithful. But now I am back to seeing that guy I hadn't even given a second look at since high school. His name is Breyer.