In Lieu of Jonesy

I know it's just not the same, and I am not really very funny like she is, but here I am. The parrot loves her best, and I write more on the blog.

I am currently boiling down rhubarb with sugar into a sauce to make, in the future, an Edwardian Pink Shocker. I am not joking: http://www.pbs.org/manorhouse/treats/prog04.html On this site, you can take the Snob Quiz as well. Who said PBS has no sense of humor?

The bird is pacing on his perch, wings out and in and out, trying a series of different calls to get my attention. Now he is pretending to chew. The cat is pawing at the glass door, the dogs are watching the yard for intruders. The ancient cat just limped into the kitchen for a snack.

I am thinking about how if I knew what was good for me I would give up sugar, booze, whining, driving, butter, starch, swearing, and fried foods. Alas, I am flawed.

Just like my pets are flawed--just now the dog nipped the cat and the other dog nipped the nipper. This resulted in scolding. The old cat is oblivious, moving soft food around in her dish from side to side.

My parrots nails are too long, I bite mine, I cannot clip my dogs' nails due to their utter refusals. We all keep making more.

I should go for a walk, read some poems, eat an apple.

The old cat wandered off and now is yowling from the basement, which sounds mournful, like she is lost. I will go retrieve her bony self and squeeze her a little, so that she will start to purr and we will look out onto the yard and whistle back at the birds.

Post Earache

I have resurfaced. For a few weeks, the mere heft of dragging my muscles and bones from one room to the other had me flummoxed and exhausted. Velocity stalled, stuttered.

Today I got my appetite back, and coincidentally, said goodbye to the last of my antibiotics. God bless drugs to squelch ear and throat infections.

The dark chocolate with espresso beans is kaput. I gobbled almost an entire small pizza. The bird gnawed at the crust, always using his left food as the grabber, the right foot as the stander. His eating foot always looks like he's making a fist. I love this. Then he bit Jonesy quite hard for having a water bottle too close to his body as he clung to her collar as she drank.

He bites when he's tired, and he was up way past his bedtime, which is 7 or 8, so he can get 12 hours of sleep, like any good tropical bird should. Up an hour or two past his tucked into his box time. I wonder if we left him up as late as he wanted if he would go to bed ever, or crash out in corner like a kid at a slumber party?

This leads to this question: Can the bird make the best choices for himself? Like flying outside, so No. For wanting to eat more nuts than he should eat in a week: No. Biting the hand that feeds you: No.

But he's a Smoocher, a Snuggler, a Dancer, and Singer, and a Scamp. He nods in affirmation of the list. He says, Djesssss.

A mercurial, contradictory creature. Indeed.