May 30, 2007

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom

We were honored by a nestful of guests this spring. It seemed to happen so fast. Oh! A nest! And suddenly the little golden maws gopping for wormy goodness from mommy or daddy bird. The parents seemed to never rest. They were constantly trawling our yard for worms and other goodies, especially after a good rain or lawn watering. Like old men with metal detectors they minced along with their heads down. 

I never knew how quick the time from egg to flight was. In just over a week these little fuzzy things were gone! I met one at the trash can out back. It was robin-sized but still dun-colored, the red breast yet to come in. It let me come very close and seemed to look me in the eye as it pooped a mighty bird-poop before it flew off in a hurry. So they have to LEARN how to poop and fly at the same time. I thought it came naturally to them.

Here, then, two photos. Through the magic of nature's great plan, they blend in rather well with their nestly home.

and a week later...

As of yesterday, it seemed impossible that all three could still fit in this twiggy masterpiece. Our cat intently watched our little guests, her very own kitty TV. 

Bye Bye Birdies! Be well and safe and may you eat many worms. 

Posted by Pagalina at 22:17:30 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

May 29, 2007

in lieu of actually writing...

yeah yeah, I'm the worst blogger ever. It's not a writer's block, it's a whole freaking neighborhood! So in lieu of putting thoughts and words together, how about a lovely little video clip from our own auteur, Dickie. If this doesn't make you want to rush out and buy your very own 3 year old, I'm not sure what will.
Posted by Pagalina at 15:38:58 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |

May 21, 2007

A motherly moment

Even at 3 years old, the opportunities she gives me to cuddle her up in my lap are fleet and sometimes squirmy moments. Saturday, after splashing in her pool and making it rain with the hose, her lips were nearly blue and I had to talk her out of the water so I could wrap her up and warm her. She’s so tall now that it was nigh impossible to warm her toes while also warming her torso in those small towels you feel compelled to buy when you have a new baby. She’s wrapped and tucked, her head under my chin and I don’t even remember what all we talked about those magical 10 minutes, possibly her new fwip-fwops, or school or bugs, but I was charmed.

The day was sunny and breezy and altogether perfect for a spring day in May. We have a robin family that has taken residence in the shrubs on the side of the house and we watched one or the other of the parents flying in, waiting for safety before swooping in to their nestful of babies with their mouthfuls of worm. Sometimes we peek at them from our sun porch, the little yellow maws that bob up and down. The cat’s interest is purely predatory, I’ve been trying to get a good photo and Ruby wants to jump up and down on the sofa there by the window so as to really freak the mommy robin out. Although that’s not her intention, it is the effect.

She was making up jokes recently, and it was like looking through a kaliedescope and trying to figure out what little shard of plastic made the image and colors appear. These jokes were little stories, just like other jokes, but the preschooler doesn’t know for irony or juxtaposition, she knows that what she is saying makes her laugh and so she does. It’s tricky when she asks ME to make up a joke, I’m unsure of her protocol.

I’m sure, in a matter of moments, she’ll be in high school and self-sufficient and hardly around and I wonder how much my heart will ache. Or how much my own mother’s ached when I moved away for college. And even though there are 15 years of skinned knees, homework projects and slammed doors between here and there, it makes me a little sad to be sitting in this office chair, tapping on a computer for a few dollars while my perfectly wonderful daughter is charming other people.
Posted by Pagalina at 14:55:13 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

bathroom butchery

Under NO circumstances should you trim your own bangs if any of the following is true:

  • you’re furious about something
  • you’re kinda tipsy (okay a lot tipsy)
  • your hair is pissing you off
  • you’re at work (a friend did this. BUTCHERY!)
  • all you have is a very dull set of scissors


Or as I learned firsthand this morning, when you’re in a rush and you’re trying to trim your bangs in the same spaced-out way you’ve been brushing her teeth and putting on your make up. Wack wack. Hey. That was a lot. This is especially bad if you have curly hair because it will only get shorter when it dries. Dammit.

 What circumstances would YOU add to the list?

Posted by Pagalina at 09:50:23 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

May 07, 2007

Reason #3465 Why Ruby Rocks

We were at another child's birthday bash this weekend. Ruby spotted a cute, little, fuzzy, wuzzy, happy, furry, white, very round stuffed Easter bunny on a table. She picked up it up and while adults were telling her how cute it was she waved it above her head and yelled "Let's play soccer". She promptly dropped the bunny kicked it across the living room and tore after it. The birthday girl and owner of the bunny was not impressed. Birthday girl had no intention of allowing the use of bunny as a soccer ball so while letting out a death screech fell upon bunny/ball. Ruby had failed to split the defenders and play into space and we will continue to work on that in the off-season. I scooped Ruby up quick  enough to prevent her from kicking the anti-soccer child in the birthday head. On the outside I was explaining that we don't use other people's stuffed animals as soccer balls but on the inside I was screaming GOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!!!

Posted by Dickie at 16:49:13 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

ah yes! children's birthday parties

At this self-same birthday party, the birthday girl received what amounted to a pair of preschool hooker shoes. Silver platform shoes that clattered horrendously across the wood and tiled floor. Towards the end of the party, before the four little girls would all soon be rushed off to home and jammies, they herded together and began to run at break-neck speeds from one end of the house to the other whilst whooping mightily. Birthday girl in her hooker shoes flailing and clacking along in the rear. There's nothing quite like a wipeout by a newly birthdayed 3 year old in hooker shoes. All the grownups stop breathing for a second, waiting to see if a wail ensues. We've all learned, don't freak out until they do. If that had been ME wiping out, there woulda been tears, my friend. And booze. A lot of booze.
Posted by Pagalina at 16:17:13 | Permanent Link | Comments (0) |

May 03, 2007

requiem for a kitty

I've had kitties my entire adult life. The minute you get more than one, you become a Cat Lady. It is irrefutable; two puts you into a whole other league. It is much less weird to be a married, childed Cat Lady because people can't accuse you of misdirected maternal instincts. But I started my cat career as a single, apartmented gal. My kitty friend made a near perfect surrogate roommate/boyfriend. Someone to chat to, buy presents for and to curl up with at night. The warm weight of a cat made for comfortable companionship when living by myself.

I got the second cat to be the first one, Sancho's, pal. They've spent the last 5 years hissing and pouncing on eachother and generally raising holy hell. While one scratched the hell out of the furniture the other decided to pee on it. Great, we thought. How do we get uncatted.

And then Sancho, our old crochety diabetic cat had to be put to sleep on Monday. The other cat misses her buddy accutely and I miss him warmly pressing against my thigh each evening while I watch TV. I still have the orange one perched on my shoulder purring loudly in my ear, but my thigh is a little chilly. And despite my many protestations against the cats, it took me so by surprise when he took his sudden turn. I wish I hadn't swept him out of my way with my foot so many times. Wish I hadn't spoken crossly. Wish I had scritched between his ears a few more times.

So I still look for him when i come home, still almost get his medication ready each evening. Still feel guilty.
Posted by Pagalina at 21:12:06 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |