Wednesday, April 17, 2024
My brain is roadblocking this morning’s blog. The problem is that I have an early meeting and must attend to time and preparation needs.
For now, I’ll just say “Good Morning” with the hope that your day is fine.
Dear Friends: More tomorrow morning, and also, more creative. Diana
Tuesday, April 16, 2024
My house is under siege by two tiny birds, apparently mates, taking turns tapping unendingly into a lower corner of a high window. They’re working too high for wingless me to reach them without a 20-foot ladder. Little by little a hole grows. The birds are tiny—chickadees or nuthatches—but determined. I watch and yell to no advantage.
Their chosen window is precisely where a Northern Flicker drilled a large hole years ago. Apparently, birds are attracted to high spots protected by an eve. I love birds but would drive away these littles. I yell and threaten, but they ignore me. The long-ago Flicker left an unsightly hole that, finally, a house painter made to disappear.
Now, here we go again. This time, it’s a bird tiny enough to leave space in my palm.
They’re so high up it’s hard to tell, but I think a Chickadee bird pair is tapping into my house. My first impression was that the birds were Juncos, but a Junco doesn’t drill unendingly.
It’s a wonder seeing these tiny birds pecking into my house siding, determined to create a nesting space. A little research says that they can and won’t give up until they do.
Dear Friends: I’m becoming an unwilling nest host to bitty birds. Diana
Monday, April 15, 2024
The header photo is an old selfie; it popped up and surprised me. I took it many years ago while driving to Sister’s, slowly, in heavy traffic. It was opening day for the Sister’s Quilt Show, an impressive annual event. Crackers, a Moluccan cockatoo, was on my shoulder. She was my buddy/visitor through that summer and we went everywhere together.
Crackers, a very affectionate bird, always dependably stayed on my shoulder. She had a huge vocabulary; we talked lots. I adored her–didn’t realize how much until after she was home again with her first family.
She’s why later I adopted Peaches, my Citron cockatoo.
Here’s Peaches, exploring a recent challenge.
Peaches’ personality is huge, like Crackers’, and he, too, has a large vocabulary. However, he often speaks less clearly than she–characteristics of their breed types. He loves being with me. One of my favorite things about Peaches is that he sings and creates humanlike melodies. We sing together, communicating that way is lovely.
Dear Friends: Yes, I’m a bird person, all because of my summer with Crackers. Diana
Sunday, April 14, 2024
Rain, rain, and unstopping last night. The small critters stayed inside with me, and the big outsiders didn’t get late-night eat-infusions. My most bothersome thoughts arose from an email saying that my book package had been delivered. I looked around nearby outside and didn’t see a package anywhere. Of all things, books, somewhere in the rain.
What’s more to do? I went to bed.
I slept little all night as my stubborn head replayed much of the Simpson-Brown trial thirty years ago. Then, I lived in LA and worked in a big aerospace company. I had a private office, wonder-of-wonders, where a little radio let me follow each moment of the murder trial. I listened to months of jaw-biting arguments, descriptions of edge-clinging evidence, and commentators’ outrage. I believed Simpson guilty, and still today, I can recall my deep shock at the jury’s verdict.
Now, thirty years later, we understand better how our larger culture influenced the jury’s decision. More makes sense, from the outrage among non-whites after a history of vicious policing against them; and a black celebrity with the wealth for a star team of defense attorneys; and public defenders representing a political office, totally unprepared to handle a trial that became a circus.
That double murder remains openly unjustified and still is an outstanding social tragedy.
Dear Friends: Anxiety-causing memories from my “midnight-awake” time. Diana
Saturday, April 13, 2024
On Saturdays, the department store where I work part-time opens earlier and closes later. Today, I must be there, bright-eyed, when it opens. Yesterday, my schedule was late, starting at 5 p.m., and going until the store closed. Here’s the rub: I’m tired any day by 5 p.m. after working bunches here at home.
I was thinking about being tired while peering inside a drawer by the cash register. There, a bag of trail mix–it’s bad stuff, high in sugar and carbs. Weeks before, that bag was my reward for doing something the bosses liked. Now, diving into high sugar and carbs awakened and carried me to the closing hour.
Yesterday, also, it rained, and this morning’s sunlight is transforming the junipers and my fence posts from dull brown into golden shades. Lovely reminders, that I still live in a country-like environment, despite this once-small city’s ongoing, speedy building-up.
I suppose this still is considered a small city. But not to me, who measures its growth from when I moved here. Twenty years ago, I’d drive clear across town, from east to west, in five minutes and be headed to nearby mountains. Of course, that was before the ’08 financial crisis. After the economy improved, retirees began moving here, and new construction swung into action. A growing population and rising numbers of new buildings increased vehicle traffic and slowed driving times. These days, driving from east to west across town takes at least a half-hour or forty-five minutes.
Now, countrylike to me means being inside my home beside a big window, seeing golden highlights on trees and fence posts. It’s the same while walking downhill to the barn to feed my outside animals. There, trees and some acres of open space surround us.
It’s very satisfying that for now and in the near future, being at home is countrylike; the place is sweet.
Dear Friends: Now, putting aside dreams and getting ready for work. Diana
Friday, April 11, 2024
Yesterday was National Dog Day, and I didn’t post photos of my dogs. Today is National Hamster Day, and I haven’t one of those pets. Years ago, I adopted a sweet Peruvian Guinea Pig from an animal rescue. His coat was very long and needed trimming regularly, or else, formed into rolls and grew into dreadlocks.
The guinea pig was a cute little fellow. He and my bunny, Speedo, were each pleasant pets. Speedo was a domestic white that turned up loose, hopping on my property and nibbling hay in my barn. Using an apple as bait, I trapped Speedo, and he became a house bunny. The sweet guy had been litter-box trained by somebody.
While I was thinking about interesting sorts of pets, George Rodrigue’s “Blue Dog” images began appearing in my FB feed. Years ago, I spent a week in New Orleans and I discovered The Blue Dog Gallery. Rodrigue’s sense of humor delighted me, and wow, still does.
Rodrigue, an excellent artist, snuck the Blue Dog into his larger, serious paintings. The dog always looking out of place and bewildered. This example is “Millenium 2000.”
Notice the dog has wings, is a butterfly out of place physically, and trying to process mentally.
Many Rodrigue paintings include his dog character, always out of place, trying to process.
I saw Rodriguez’s Blue Dog as representing elements of himself. Also, that dog represents an element of ourselves.
On a lofty side, we are that dog while viewing and interpreting works of art. Also, in daily living, we are that dog, for being in today’s world and attempting to comprehend the predictable vs. the unpredictable.
I enjoyed the art and that dog, but couldn’t afford a painting. Still, I barely managed to resist.
Rodrigue passed recently and that increases the value of his art. While value is a consideration, to me, his works represent more. They reflect much about ourselves.
Beyond the artist’s humor and insight, his Blue Dog is all of us, in all our whimsy.
Dear Friends: Here’s to enjoying a chuckle at ourselves. Diana
Thursday, April 11, 2024
Yesterday, after work, I hurried to an adjoining city to pick up my prepared income tax forms. Then, I rushed home to pick up my Rottie-X, Chase. He had spent the day waiting for me in a standalone, escape-proof kennel. I intended to take him to Costco, have him stay in the Jeep until I returned from shopping, and learn not to leap from an open cargo that’s being loaded. That was asking quite a bit from this young dog; he rarely goes anywhere with me.
Chase has turned two years old. He has spent his life mostly on my property and sometimes runs freely in a BLM with my other dogs. That’s all good, but he needs more outer-world experience teaching him to be comfortable while out, especially with other humans.
I left him in the Jeep and entered Costco with a quick list, and unsurprisingly, my rapid shopping plan failed. I spent an hour in the store before pushing my loaded cart to the Jeep. There, I didn’t see Chase waiting, and looking inside, still not seeing him, I panicked. How could he have escaped!
Suddenly, a woman beside me smiled and said, “Hello.” Assuming she was a Costco employee, I said, “My dog somehow got out of this car!” Suddenly, turning and seeing Chase in the Jeep, I understood he’d been on the front seat’s floor.
The woman said, “I came to help with unloading your cart,” and gestured, “all those look heavy.” I shook my head, “Thanks, but I can do it.” She ignored me, reached for the heaviest box, and said, “Open the cargo.” I did that and she continued, lifting and loading faster than I could help.
Meanwhile, Chase stayed in the cargo, not threatening her but trembling mightily in the unusual situation. All did go well, and to his credit, he didn’t attempt to escape. Finally, on finishing, the woman turned to me, “Will you have help with unloading?” and watched doubtfully as I said, “I’ll be okay doing that.”
Then, she said, “My mom is ninety-three years old and still insists on doing things herself. I saw you with that loaded cart and just wanted to help.” I nodded, really having welcomed her act of kindness, and now thanked her.
At home, I unloaded and thought about her and also about a young man who had been shopping inside Costco. He saw me starting to wrestle with a bag of dog kibble, came to my rescue, lifted the bag easily, and placed it perfectly on my cart.
Two good samaritans. I felt appreciated and old; one forgets one is old. That’s another topic, for someday.
And my Chase, too. That good boy waited, tolerated a stranger’s pushy presence, and didn’t try to jump from an open cargo. Having him with me is making this pup more special. If only–if only, he’d outgrow his high leaping and quit doing his deep digging.
Dear Friends: A planned day with pleasant surprises and good outcomes. Diana
Wednesday, April 09, 2024
Recently, I began learning more about our brains, including the phenomenon of “brain noise.” For example, a surgical procedure called “focused ultrasound” converges sound waves into a tiny area deep within the brain (e.g., the thalamus) and creates heat. This heat disrupts abnormal brain activities causing recurring tumors. Similarly, in another human problem, focused ultrasound can pinpoint and address the area in a human brain that consistently demands drugs.
Now, I’ve begun learning more about music and the human mind. Renowned soprano Renee Flemming is behind a book entitled Music and the Mind, designed for a general audience. Its chapters explore music’s power relative to human health and the brain and discuss such topics as childhood development, cognitive neuroscience, evolution, and music therapy.
It stresses music’s impact on healthcare, musical education, music and social cohesion, and the future of music in medicine.
Reading this book was easy and also jolting. I could feel my brain spontaneously and often recalling musical phrases and life episodes, long forgotten or seemingly so. I’ve been surprised to rediscover long-ago music and associated learning, still lasting and inspiring, in my brain’s regions.
Dear Friends: All amazing, the incredible capabilities of our magnificent brains. Diana
Tuesday, April 08, 2024
It’s supposed to get warmer this week, up to seventy degrees. I can’t wait for that sunny heat. Yesterday, in midmorning, I was outside as a chilly wind penetrated my stretchy denim jeans. I hurried inside, changed clothes, and all day, then sported snow pants and a heavy sweater. Fighting this spring’s weather is continuous business.
Thanks to all who have asked about my broken tooth. Yes, it’s fixed, the cap is re-cemented perfectly. I took Chase, my Rottweiler-X, to the dentist’s office to prevent his digging and slipping under the fence after my Jeep pulled away. At the dentist’s, Chase stayed in the Jeep while I walked to the office door, opened it, and turned to look back; I waved at Chase at the rear window, watching me.
An hour later, I emerged and saw Chase still at the Jeep window, hadn’t moved an inch, and still staring at the door through which I’d disappeared. He’s my first Rottweiler type and maybe has many of the breed’s outstanding characteristics. He’s very smart, focused mentally, strong physically, and devoted to his person. Besides, Chase is fun.
If only he’d finish maturing and quit escaping enclosures.
Yesterday evening, PBS broadcast an award show from the Kennedy Center. Elton John and his writing partner were receiving the Gershwin Award for Musical Achievement. I didn’t witness yesterday’s rare real-time moon/sun eclipse, but found this Award Show eclipsing most past TV musical offerings.
Dear Friends: Now, I’ll be off to tackle another day. Diana
Monday, April 08, 2024
Today, mainly on my mind is having to leave early to go to the dentist. It’s because, the other day, while flossing my teeth, I popped the cap off a molar. I didn’t really notice before my tongue found a difference. That happening surprised the heck out of me.
I have some capped teeth, and seemingly forever that’s been so, starting when I was ten years old. A baseball bat swung backward by a careless player hit me in the mouth and broke my front teeth. Ever since then, I’ve been a regular at dental offices.
I can’t recall ever popping off a cap before, and that shook me. Worst, it happened on Friday, and my dentist wasn’t available before today. At first, I anticipated living with a painful tooth stump, but actually, didn’t feel pain. The only thing unusual was my tongue noticing a difference between the pre- and post-occurrences.
All weekend, everything has been business as usual. Funny enough, my tongue became fond of that odd tooth tucked into my jaw’s corner. Anyway, today, the flossing damage will be repaired.
Dear Friends: Just a short hello before I leave for an early appointment. Diana
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