Random Triggers

 I miss Bob.  Every minute, every day.  It's rather like breathing; most of the time I don't pay attention to it - it's just there, going on in the background.

And there there are times that there is a quick gasp.  The big things (like anniversaries, or going through his stuff) I can kind of prepare for.  The little triggers surprise me.

Yesterday I finished a carton of cottage cheese.  I washed the container out and tossed it in the recycle bin.  Along with a huge pang of guilt.

I threw away a Perfectly Good Container.  One that could be saved to Store Things In.  He never would have done that - which is why I have found bins and bags filled with empty jars and containers in the barn.  The butter tubs and cottage cheese containers and yogurt cups would get tossed into a cabinet, where they would cascade out on the times that I actually had some leftover food to store.  At times, it would become a source of contention, because that cascade (and the followup of shoving them all back in and slamming the door shut) annoyed the hell out of me when all I wanted was something to put some mac & cheese in.  And sometimes I would have a breakdown.  "For God's sake, Bob, just how many damned empty cartons do you need?  Give me a number - 12, 20, 45? "  And he'd be like "it's not like that, you don't have to be that way" and he would grudgingly let me throw a stack in the recycle bin but it bothered him and I suspect (heck, I know) that a lot of them were rehomed in the barn, just in case they were needed.

I also tossed an empty kitty litter jug.  When you have a houseful of cats, you go through a lot of the stuff.  Now that I'm down to five, I splurge on the Arm & Hammer low dust litter, which comes in a guilt-free cardboard box that I can just toss.  But sometimes Publix has buy one get one sales on Tidy Cat litter, and who can pass up a good bargain?

And look at that jug it comes in!  The right size to hold a couple of gallons of water - useful if a hurricane is coming and you might be without for a few days.  Not too heavy to pick up.  Yes, they are useful.  I keep a half-dozen of them around for that purpose.  But I also threw away 20 or 30 from the barn, and I tossed one last week - again, like the cottage cheese carton, with a pang.  I feel like a wastrel (in fact, he used to call me that).

And that brings me to the big kitty litter bins.  I don't get these anymore because they're a bit too heavy and awkward for me to lift comfortably (and, honestly, I prefer the low dust litter).  But they were the best buy - and those bins!  Even I admit that the bins are great.  In fact, when I built the storage shelving in the cottage, I made the lower two shelves of a height to accommodate the bins (which I painted, so as to cover up the glaring yellow)

They're the right size to store fleece and yarn.  Buying just a sturdy storage bin would be $4- $5.  But down in the barn - well, there are a lot filled with empty jars (and cottage cheese cartons).  A lot filled with random stuff I can't even identify.  And there is a large, wall mounted storage shelf filled with row upon row of them - and I need to go through each one, although I suspect a lot of them are empty.  The majority of them will get tossed.

I will feel bad, and shout my apologies to the universe for each one.

 

Linen Couch Slipcover

This is about the couch in the den. It's pretty old - maybe 20 years?  It replaced the 50+ year old couch that I inherited from my parents.  It's nothing fancy - we got it, gently used, from Aaron's Rents.  We didn't want a fancy one - the idea was that if we came in from outside, maybe from working in the yard, and wanted to sit down and rest for a moment before grabbing a shower and changing, we could.

So after years of that (and the usual houseful of cats) it got a bit grungy, the upholstery faded and snagged.  We didn't want the bother of a new couch - it would entail shopping, and dragging one in, and dragging one out, and it in turn would eventually get grungy.

I tried putting just a one-piece slipcover on it.  This failed.  The problem was that Bob liked to sit on the floor, with his back against the couch, whenever he ate or snacked while watching TV, sitting on a bean bag chair until the innards turned to styrofoam dust and the seams finally split (then we got a big fluffy pillow instead).  He and his knees were not always on speaking terms, so getting down was a problem solved by sitting on the couch and then sliding down - taking the slipcover with him.  3 or 4 or 5 times a day I would have to retuck the whole thing.

I gave up and sewed individual covers for the seat and back cushions, as well as a fitted cover for the rest of the frame.  Washing these was a bit of a bother - it all had to be unzipped and the cushions extricated, then wrestled back on again.  But it worked.  When those got grungy enough after a few years I made another set.

Finally, in 2021, I realized that it was yet again time to replace them, and I honestly just wasn't up to sewing all those fitted covers again.  Suddenly - and sadly - I realized that I didn't have to.  No one was sliding off the couch anymore.  I ordered a stretchy slipcover online.  Like most things, it looked better online than it did in real life.  But it was, well, functional.  It was also thin, and textured, which made it really good for catching on cat's claws.  I added to the elegance by throwing a ratty old bedsheet over it (nothing like protecting the slipcover, right?) 

I've mentioned before (especially when talking about my bed sheets) that I have an obsession with linen (any more and it might cross the line into fetish).  FaceBook apparently picked up on that, because I became inundated with adds for an organic linen couch cover.

Sigh.  Just looking at that lowers my blood pressure. (It also reminds me of movies where there is an abandoned house with sheets tossed over the furniture; I always liked the look of that).  But I don't like buying things unseen and untouched; you never know what you're getting.  And there was that $400 price tag . . .

I wanted it.

I do know what I'm getting, and what the quality is, from the online fabric store where I have often bought linen for sewing clothes (I use to get that luscious stuff by the bolt when I was the clothier for Mission San Luis a lifetime ago).  They often run sales - when the next one came around, my order went in.

In theory, it was an easy sewing job.  Cut the long length of the fabric in half crosswise, and sew it back together lengthwise to make a big square, and hem it.  But when you're dealing with a piece of fabric that's 15 feet long and 10 feet wide - it gets really cumbersome.  Like sewing a circus tent.  And I had to stop halfway through yesterday because the alerts on my phone kept going off; we were having a major thunderstorm and a tornado had been spotted out this way.  I love my cottage but I thought the house might be a little safer.

But I got it finished today, and on the couch with the help of the cats, and I friggin' love it.  Yes - it's rumpled, because Linen.  But I like the rumpled look; I'm the same way about a bed that hasn't been completely made.  Both seem inviting, beckoning you to snuggle down and relax.  If something is too crisp and neat and perfect I feel as though there is a sign on it saying "do not sit on the furniture."

The before and after.

Time for tea.

Farewell to the Watcher; Tiny Owlet; Hungry Hungry Turtle

 I used to belong to an online Halloween group.  Once a year, it would have a "cheap prop" (I can't remember the restriction - under $20, I think) competition.  I tried for several years; I did often get to the top 3, but in in my fourth year I won.  Inspired by a sculptor who created human-like swamp creatures, I built the Watcher.

The idea was simple - I constructed a framework of hardware cloth, pool noodles, fabric, and a Styrofoam skull, then plastered the whole thing with clay.  It was at the last part where the insanity came in - I gathered roadside clay from a back road that had a streak of Georgia red clay running through it.

I say "we" but of course Bob encouraged and helped me in my insanity.  We would fill the truck with 5-gallon buckets, and then drive out Joe Thomas road and shovel in the clay.  Then my backbreaking work started - I would mix the clay with enough water to make a slurry, then push it through a piece of hardware cloth to remove rocks, leaves, any other detritus, and break up any lumps.  Then I plastered over the framework, sculpting hands and face.  Strips of cheesecloth dipped in the clay became dreadlocks.  I have to admit that I was please with the final product (and I won the $50 Lowe's gift card prize)

He lived at the edge of the woods, gazing at our fire pit.  Anyone who came out both liked and were disturbed by him.

Alas, time, rain, tropical storms, and finally a hurricane caused him to slowly dissolve.

Even at this stage, he looked pretty cool.  In December 2020, I posted his picture on FaceBook, asking if I should take him down, or just let him dissolve.  Everyone voted for leaving him - except for a couple of people who suggested that I restore him.  I thought about that for awhile - and when he got to the point that all that remained was the wire, styrofoam skull (with no clay face left on it) and pool noodles. I thought I would give it a shot.  This time, I used cloth and monster mud (a mixture of drywall compound and latex paint, often used for props).  I got partway finished before I ran out of mud; I eventually went to Lowe's and got more, but somehow didn't get back to working on him.  

I think it's because he was more than a yard statue.  He was the time spent with Bob digging clay.  I often thought that he was so tolerant of my crazy-ass ideas; now, at a distance, I think it might be possible that it was one of the things he loved about me.  The Watcher had his time, and then dissolved, and it was best to let him go.  So today I dismantled what was left of him, crushed all the wire flat, and now he's in bags and will go to the dump this weekend.

Goodbye, my watchful friend.

And now, the owlet.  I don't know why I'm writing about him (or her, who knows) except that I write now about things the move me, or touch me, or just to get things out of my system.  And the little owlet makes me sad.

I was at the museum, cleaning the small aviary where we have several screech owls.  It's spring, so they have a nest.  But below the nest box, I saw a broken egg, fallen or maybe even tossed from the nest.  I carefully picked it up, gently moved the broken shell, and saw the tiny pink blob inside that was a baby owl.

I took the egg back to the kitchen.  I was holding it when the other volunteers came in.  I held my hand over it, giving the trigger warning - "it's an owl embryo, if you want to see it."  They did, and gathered around as I carefully with the tip of my pinky finger wiped aside the yoke and the white and straightened him out on my palm.  He was a little over a half inch long, pink and naked and alien looking - but also a tiny owl.  They took pictures; I did not.  But it was all done with respect,witnessing this tiny miracle.  Afterwards, I carefully slipped him back inside the broken shell, got a trowel, and gave him a little funeral.  

On a happier note, my turtle made me laugh today.  She was on the front deck as I came back from feeding the chickens, and started walking towards me as fast as her stubby little legs would move.  I walked past her back into the house, and she turned and was following me.  I came out a moment later with her breakfast; I thought it was a generous serving, but when I looked out a little later her dish was empty and she was
trying to get the last little bits up.  So I refilled it, commenting that she was "hungry hungry Hippo."  I'm not sure that "Hippo" is a good name for a turtle, but perhaps she is Hippolyta.  We'll see if the name sticks.

 

Another Circus and . . . Tank Tops?

 And I have gone out once again!  To another circus, no less.

FSU has it's own Flying High Circus.  I haven't been to a showing in, oh, about 35 years or so.  But one of the girls (ahem, women) who used to volunteer at the museum tried out for it several times and was excited to finally make it in.  She had texted me about it, and, like one does, I said of course I would come.

What usually happens in those cases is that the person doesn't go.  It's just a nice thought.  I'm not most cases.  So I went to the matinee show on Saturday and I have to say - pretty damned awesome.  Especially considering that it's all students, and completely extracurricular - they get no credit for it.  The performers, when they aren't performing, are also the roadies, setting up and breaking down for each act.

No animals, of course (and, increasingly, I'm all right with not having trained animal acts), but tumbling, trapeze, wire walking, aerial gymnastics - it's impressive.  It was dark in there, so I didn't get any pictures, but I had told Faith where I would be sitting and she spotted me and ran over afterwards for a hug, which made me feel special.

I did lift a couple of pictures from their web page.

And now a side quest, a musing on tank tops.  I wear tank tops year round.  In the summer, they're what I wear around the house.  In winter, that thin close layer can keep in some warmth.  I sleep in them.  I wear men's tank tops - like any male vs. female clothing item, they're a lot less expensive, and also they're longer.

I haven't bought any new ones for years - and it shows.  So on a recent trip to WalMart I thought I'd pick up a pack (as I remembered, they would come in a 3-pack) .It's not the sort of thing that you think was going to be a victim of post-Covid recession and shortages but guess what?  For one - you used to be able to get a 3-pack in three different colors.  All they had at WalMart was white, black, and gray.  Furthermore - they were locked up.  Seriously?  None of the boxers/briefs/etc were behind glass - do more people shoplift tank tops?  So even if I wanted one, it was a no-go; it can take a ridiculously long time to find someone with a key to those locked cabinets.  So I did what every red-blooded American does:  I came home and went onto Amazon.

And found that, even on Amazon, tank tops come in white, gray, and black (at least the 100% cotton Fruit of the Loom that I favor - I am not wearing polyester, especially in the summertime.  Besides, it's evil)

It's certainly not the end of the world, but it's yet another thing that I always took for granted, that I would be able to just pop into the store and pick up a 3 pack of colored tank top, and isn't there anymore.

Interlude 2: Purple Mystery

 I have a pretty set morning routine:  get up, wash face, brush teeth, brush hair.  Feed  the cats; then go outside to take food to the crows and feed the chickens.  This all happens before I've had my morning tea.

This morning I'm coming back to the house, thinking of tea and breakfast, and something registers as being A Little Different.  There's something purple and shiny in my azaleas.

It's what used to be a Mylar balloon, now split open about halfway through and stuck in my azaleas.  

If I were Neil Gaimen, I could write a short story about this.  About whatever celebration needed Mylar balloons.  The howl of a child as his balloon escaped and went floating free.  And how did it get split open along the seam?  Did it relish its freedom and, like Icarus, find its own doom, soaring too high until the air inside over expanded, split the seam, and it fell to its doom?

I pull it out of the bush, intending to toss it into the trash, but instead I just look at it - shiny purple Mylar.  I feel the tug of my inner Bob.  Bob, who saved anything and everything because he might find a use for it, leaving me with dozens of boxes and bins and bags and a whole room and bigger barn filled with God Knows What But It Might Be Useful Someday.   I should toss it.  But somehow this stray piece of shiny purple has found its way into my hands.  I see dragon scales, or maybe fairy wings.  Its a gift of sorts.   And, honestly, deflated, it's not very big.

I'm keeping it.

Interlude

 I was sitting on the back deck this afternoon, with my book and coffee.  The woods are in full leaf now, and I would look up when I heard the buzz of a hummingbird's wings at the feeder.  I had let RiverSong come outside with me; she was laying with the dappled sun on her dappled fur.

"You're quite beautiful - do you know that?" I said to her.  Suddenly I heard it in Bob's voice.  "You're quite beautiful - do you know that?"  It was something that he said to me often.  I might be dressed up to go somewhere, or I might be out in the kayak, or streaked with dirt and sweaty from working in the garden, or just doing the dishes.   And he would say it.

More Randomness

 I did my errand-running today.  First thing was to get the oil changed in the car.  In the Before Times, we would have brought the car and the truck in, dropped off the car, run errands, picked up car afterwards.  Today, I sat there for an hour and a half.  They have comfortable chairs and I had a book.  Alas - no cappuccino machine as in days past, but they did have coffee.

Then off to Ramona's for my spinning wheel.  As I was driving, I realized that I had tears running down my face.  Influence of the book - Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik.  Fantasy, more complex than most.  The fae and the mortals living mostly out of time sync with each other - same worlds, just not meshing.  And I realize that's how I think about whatever world Bob is in now.  The land of the fae.

He's my selkie man, out there in the ocean.  He always loved the water, loved swimming.  When he was 10, he was a competitive swimmer, top in his class.  Then his growth spurt came and ended that path for him.  But he still loved swimming.  There was a little-known FSU intramural swimming pool only a couple of miles from the museum, so we got in the habit of swimming after I got off work.  He would go out there and get started, and then I would join him.  I liked watching him swim; despite his size, he was sleek in the water, cutting into it, never a splash.  I liked watching his shoulders and back, strong muscles.  I picture him sometimes, out there in the Gulf, maybe sometime rising out of the water for a moment, looking at the land, remembering me, and then diving back down.  My selkie.  Close, but always out of reach.

Sometimes such romantic visions comfort, sometimes, honestly, they are of no use.  A couple of days ago I found a tick, pretty much right between the shoulder blades.  It's imperative to get those bastards out immediately; they carry far too many diseases.  So there I was, sitting on the bathroom counter, back to the mirror, holding another mirror in my hand, with my other arm twisting around my back, trying to see the reflection through the gap of my elbow, and maneuver tweezers.  Total failure.  After about 15 minutes I sighed, put down the mirror and tweezers, reached back, and with my fingernail gouged it out, skin and all.  You do what you gotta do.

Back to today.  I picked up my wheel, and then went to Little India for my tea.  I got incense, rose and orange flower water, and a strange fungus which is used for cooking, but which I had also read could be used for dyeing yarn.  We'll see.

Sometimes the voices in my head are oddly formal.  By now it was about 11:30, and I found myself thinking "I could go to Jenny's Lunchbox to eat French toast and drink coffee."  Jenny's is a tiny local place.  I had a small table tucked into a corner, and I could eat and read some more.  I didn't have the three-tiered etegere  with small sandwiches and scones, and no view of rosebushes with a reclining cat, but it was close enough.

And now, in about an hour, I drive back in for the volunteer appreciation party, where once again I get to eat food that I haven't cooked -always a treat.  And just hang out with my co-workers, some people I haven't seen for awhile, and generally have a pleasant evening.

More Randomness, Compromise, Finding Balance

 I was actually in a pretty good mood this morning - getting some stuff done, planning a weaving project.  Then I noticed Hamish looking intently out of the kitchen window.
My baby wrens were fledging.  I've only witnessed this moment a few times before, despite the fact that wrens build their nests around my house every year.  But when it's time to leave - it's time.  It's only about 15 minutes from the moment the first one leaves the nest until they're all off in a tree or the bushes.

I found myself crying.  The world is so big, and they are so small.  I did hold one briefly - he had fluttered over to the far side of the porch and, of course, found some cobwebs.  So I cupped my hand around him, pulled the web off, and set him down with his siblings.  So tiny - I could barely feel him in my hand.

They're gone - and now Bob's hat, hanging up where he left it, feels doubly empty.

So I sat on the couch with some leftover frosting (I made a cake for dinner with friends) for awhile.

I'm out of loose tea.  I like using loose tea; there is sense of ritual to it (although I use a French press instead of a teapot and strainer).  And less waste and packaging than tea bags.  Grocery stores don't carry loose tea any more.

I like a loose Indian tea (Assam with Golden Tips) from the Indian grocery store.  Getting more always seemed to just sort of happen before - we would notice that we were running low, and put it on the list to go there "when we were out."   After retirement, we'd still go into town once a week or so for grocery shopping, and "while we were out" we'd go anywhere else.  Thing is, I don't have a "while I'm out" anymore.  I go to the grocery after work.  By then I'm tired and also a bit grungy, so not inclined to drive anywhere else in town.  Like anyplace else, the store is about 20 miles from me - that's a long round trip just for some tea.   Yes, I could get loose tea from Amazon (I did during Covid) but the store is owned by some nice people and I like looking at all the other interesting stuff.  Tuesday I need to get the oil changed in the car, so "as long as I'm in town" I can go get it then.  Several boxes.

The ritual of making tea - I also like the mini-ritual of making coffee, grinding the beans in my 100-year-old grinder.  But like tea - it's getting harder to find whole coffee beans.  So, like trying to track down loose tea, I'll have to drive to a coffee shop (which are woefully absent on this side of town) for a bag of beans (and again, would rather support a small local shop than Amazon).

It gave me flashbacks to being a little kid, at the grocery store with Mom.  Back then (hard to think I'm talking about 65 years ago) what the stores had were bags of whole beans.  And there was a marvelous big red coffee grinder.  Mom would get the bag of beans (likely Folgers or Maxwell House), open it, pour the beans into the hopper, and put the empty bag under the spout on the bottom.  You could select the grind you wanted, and then she would let me push the button and there would be the most satisfying grinding sounds and the aisle would be filled with the scent of fresh ground coffee and it would pour into the bag.

I doubt that kids today get the same kick when their mothers grab a pack of K-pods.

Note to 2024 self, in case you're wondering why, once again, I haven't gone to the Arts in the Park this weekend.  2020 it was cancelled for Covid.  2021 it ran, but still to Covid-rich for my liking.  2022 self didn't mention it, but likely I just couldn't handle the though of going alone.  I had every intention of going this year, but on short notice my friend Judy invited me to dinner with some of her friends yesterday (which is why I had some leftover frosting in the fridge - I made a carrot cake).  It was fun (even if on the way home the thunderstorms that were supposed to come in today came early, so driving in dark, rain and lightening).

I've been going out an unusual amount for me lately - more than my usual 2x a week to the Museum.  I had lunch and spinning with Adrienne last Sunday.  On Wednesday as well as working, I drove back into town that evening because there was a premier showing of Path of the Panther (a documentary meant to promote the development of greenways for animals, with a focus on panthers, and stunningly beautiful) and a bunch of museum people were going.  I had dinner at Judy's yesterday.  Monday and Wednesday coming are work, and Tuesday will be a "double driving" day - getting the car worked on and my tea in the morning, as well as a side trip to pick up a spinning wheel that I loaned out, and in the evening going to the annual volunteer appreciation party at the museum.

So I didn't want to make The Drive today.

I came here today to talk about compromises, and The Drive is one of them.  We bought this place because we wanted some space, some woods, and a place I could have chickens.  Such places come with a far heftier price tag than we could afford, except out in the Unfashionable West End of Town.  And, obviously, I love it here.  But there is a price, and that is The Drive.  Any time I think about doing anything, I have to figure in The Drive - how long it will take, and do I want to do it?  It's not like it's impossibly far to go do anything; just far enough to be annoying.  To go visit Gill is a 40 mile round trip.  The day last week that I went to work, came home, and then went back in that evening for the documentary made it a 60 mile day.  The same will happen this coming Tuesday when I run errands in the day and go back to the museum in the evening.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be 10 minutes away from a coffee shop if I felt like a latte.  Or - crazy thought - where I could get a pizza delivered to me.  I think about taking a yoga class, or joining a gym - but aware that a 1-hour workout would involve 1.5 hours of driving round trip.

But then I see a post from a friend who went out to a park and is gushing about how nice it is to get outside with some trees.  All I have to do for that is go feed my chickens or check my mail.  I lie in bed and look out the window into the forest; would I trade that view in for a pizza or latte?  I would feel so claustrophic in town - what would it even be like to be out in my yard and able to see other houses?  In the words of Marvin the Robot:  Sounds Awful.

My other trade off involves the cats (and, to a lesser extent, the chickens).  I am at a stage in my life where I am (knock wood) in decent physical shape, in decent financial state, single, with no ties.  Which means that I could go anywhere I want, do anything I want.  Travel.  

Some problems there.  I don't seem to want anything in particular (that's a subject for a future post).  As for travel - I don't really have the travelling bug.  And if I do go somewhere, I'm really antsy after 3-4 days.  Some of that problem is the cats.  I do have a person who can come by and feed them, but that's about it.  They're shy, and other than Stumbles, he might not actually see any of them.  So I can't help but wonder if they're sick or hurt, and it won't be discovered until I get home.  I know people who don't have pets for that reason - they can tie you down.  (And suddenly I'm having a flashback to the musical Pippin: "If I'm never tied to anything, will I ever be free?")  Somehow the idea of being free enough to leave for weeks because there is nothing to come home to seems unbelievably sad.  The cats are my lifeline now.  I don't think I would have survived those months of Covid isolation without them.  They are a reason to get up in the morning.  Companions in the bathroom (what is it about both cats and dogs that they never want you to go to the bathroom alone?)  Every time I sit down, there's a cat or three or four nearby.  Someone to demand affection, something I can hug.  Interaction with another living creature.

I need them.  The compromise is that I can't leave them.

That's enough rumination/dumping for now.  I have to think about dinner.  I'm hungry, but don't particularly feel like eating and certainly not like cooking.  What I really want is a High Tea.  I want a little table in a quiet corner, with a window, flowers in the window box and a little pocket garden, with a cat under the rose bushes.  Linen tablecloth.  A pot of tea and a three-tiered stand.  Little sandwich quarters on the bottom tier (egg and cress, smoked salmon, and cucumber and cream cheese), scones with clotted cream and jam in the middle, and small cakes on top.

What I'll probably get is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Randomness: Cat Pee to Fireflies

How many times in your life do you get a chance to say "well, I can get some cougar pee for you?"  Certainly couldn't pass that up.

My friends Christy and Rik at the feed store are having a predator problem.  A fox has been nabbing their chickens.  Rik has been trying to build up defenses, but foxes can climb as well as dig and slip through surprisingly small gaps.  The fox has also been harassing their baby lambs.  It avoids traps.  And with other animals out there, shooting isn't a safe option.  In an online discussion, someone mentioned that mountain lion pee is supposed to be a good deterrent (and yes, you can buy mountain lion pee online).   That was my moment to join in.  We have two cougars at the museum (same animal, different name).  They have to be put into holding cage at night, and one of them is polite enough to pee in a tub in her cage.   And the keepers at the museum are used to strange requests (I'm not even the first person to ask for cat pee).  The next day I drop off a jar at my friends - now we have to see if it does get the fox to back off, or if the smell freaks out the sheep too much to be able to use it.

April is firefly season.  It's rather magical to see what looks like Christmas twinkle lights all along the edge of the woods.  When I put up the chickens at night I allow time to just sit and enjoy the magic, because it only lasts for a few weeks.

I'm still trying to unpack how I feel about a new app that I put on my phone; my cousin Marty told me about it.  It's a check-in app.  One thing that's I've felt a bit weird about my current life is that while I'm expected at the museum two days a week, the rest of the time I have very limited human interaction.  So something could happen to me, and it could be up to 5 days before anyone would notice that I was gone.  This could be unpleasant (I actually know someone who checked on a neighbor after she realized that she hadn't seen him for a week - it was, shall we say, not good).  Hence, the check-in app.  It's a simple free app, Snug Safety.  Once a day I tap it to check in.  If I don't by a certain time (mine is 7 p.m.) it will send a text to my friend Gill and my nephew Rob letting them know that I haven't.  Simple, and that way I won't be lying in the yard being nibbled on by possums more than a day before an alert goes out.  So it's a good thing.  But it also makes me a bit sad to know that I have become one of those people.

But sometimes I have interaction - I had lunch with Adrianne this weekend.  As usual, we both had our spinning stuff with us.  It's fun; most people just glance over at us, and then back at their phones, but sometimes (and this happened) someone will come over to see what we're doing and ask questions and it's just sort of nice.

The baby birds in Bob's hat are a week old now.  I'm always amazed at how fast they grow; it just doesn't seem possible.  Another week and they'll fly off.

And that's about it for this week.

Two Snakes; Baby Birds

 Had a FaceBook memory from six years ago pop up on Monday.  Bob had come up to me and said "look what I found."  I looked the limp lifeless little body in his hand and said "oh, a dead snake.  How sad."  He replied "I don't think it's dead."  Bob, the eternally hopeful.  So he put it in a box.  And, sure enough, it came back to life.  It was a little hognose snake.  They are drama queens - at the first sight of danger, they roll over and play dead.

And yes, we released him.  It's all cute, but it also knocked the wind out of me when I first played it.  Something that only I would notice.  A few indistinct words (for the record, it's "You wiggle it?")  Bob's voice.  I kept playing it over and over.  Three words, but I clung to them.  I miss that voice.

A couple of weeks ago I posted that Carolina wrens had built a nest in Bob's gardening hat that I still had hanging up where he left it.

The miracle happened yesterday.  I couldn't get a good count of them; I just leaned in for a quick snap while the mother was off the nest, but I think there's at least four, and maybe all five.  At this state, any movement at all will result in gaping beaks.  The parents are going to be busy for awhile bringing in bugs for those bottomless appetites.

I spotted another snake today, an example at being at the right place at exactly the right time.  It was at the museum.  My co-worker Serai and I had split up - she was cleaning the sheep pen while I was at the chickens.  But I spotted a snake in the nest box and hollered at her to come over - because he had found an egg.  I am always shocked at how stretchy snakes can be.  At one point he raised his head; I picture him saying "Do you mind?  I am trying to eat."

We watched as we could see the ripples of muscle moved the egg down his body.  At one point I even heard the faint crunch as the egg finally broke.

What I really enjoyed was having someone that I could call to come watch with me, someone going "Ohmygod I've never seen anything like that."  Sharing the moment.  It was fun.  (And I admit that most people would have been grossed out by this, or even freaked at the sight of the snake)

It's a good start to April.

Under the Big Top

 There were places I could have gone yesterday.  The weaver's guild meeting; but I was still miffed at the people who didn't show up last week, and I felt no urge to get my arse off the couch, get dressed, and drive across town (I have to leave the house about 9:15 to get there on time.
Springtime Tallahassee was yesterday.  I'm not big on the parade (not since the various times I have been in it), but there's also a big arts/crafts fair.  But see above - that would mean getting dressed, trying to find parking somewhere (it usually ends up being a pretty long walk), and looking at stuff by myself.  I'm still in downsizing mode, so it's unlikely that I would find anything I would want to buy and bring home.  I have found over the last three years that I buy fewer things (including food) when there's not someone to show it to and say "what do you think?"  I like food trucks - but again, standing in line by yourself, and later sitting on the curb alone, eating, lacks a certain something.

And then the circus was in town.  I like small travelling circuses; there's a certain "times past" quality to them.  Wholesome family entertainment.  Some pretty amazing acts, but also on a human scale, not big screen CGI effects.  But see the above - where's the motivation to get up, get dressed, drive into town?  I do get tired of pushing myself.

But I saw a random FB post by a friend, Joe.  Joe is an eternal 8-year old, and pretty spontaneous.  I dropped him a note - "hey - you want to go to the circus tomorrow?"  And he said "Sure!"  So I did get up today, got dressed, drove into town.  Joe, on the other hand, fell asleep and was a no-show.

That seems to be the theme so far for 2023.  I do realize that I whine a lot about having to do stuff by myself (or I don't do stuff because I don't feel like doing it alone).  But dammit - I do try.  I agreed to be part of a "heritage fiber arts" group to demonstrate at the Highland Games in February - not my fault if I was the only one to show up.   I agreed to meet with the group of spinners last week - and they were all no-shows.  I was going with a friend to the circus - and I sat alone.

But I'm glad that I went.  It was small - one big tent - so all the acts were up close and personal (I sat about 15 feet from the ring).  The acts were fun, and some were amazing.  I spent way too much money on a big box of popcorn and enjoyed all that fake butter.  I applauded and went "oooooo."  Honestly - I enjoyed myself.

There will be more of that this month.  It's often said that if there is anything to do in Tallahassee, it's going to be in April and October.  One of the students that used to work at the museum is going to be in the FSU Flying High Circus, so I'm likely to go to that.  Hopefully Adrianne and I can have lunch sometime - it's been about 6 weeks but she's been having health issues.  I need to take some eggs to Gill if she has time between doctor's appointments (also many health issues, so we never go out together but I go visit every couple of months).   There's the Art in the Park arts/craft show in a couple of weeks - maybe I'll be willing to fight parking by then.  Rob and Amanda might come for a visit at some point - I haven't seen them in 4 months.  The museum is having the annual volunteer party in a couple of weeks.  

I'm having a tooth crowned and the car needs the oil changed.  That also at least gets me out of the house.

So cocooning is over.  Maybe I'll slow down on reading Harry Potter.  I'm halfway through Book 6 (Half Blood Prince).  The problem is that I'm supposed to be co-reading with Ebaida and she's still back on Book 4.  But this is Ramadan, and she has to fast (including no water) from dawn to dusk and she's been under a lot of stress for the last few months anyway so she tends to be too tired to read.  I won't be hearing from her much this month - I miss her.  Mostly she's just trying to sleep through it.

OK - long enough.  The cats need feeding.  And maybe I should eat something other than popcorn myself.