One of the myriads of ways people express their love of country. Wonder how far he has come and how far he has to go. Hope he is safe and at peace.
In spite of having a fondness for watching birds, and a soft spot for feathered, and furry, creatures in general (see https://coco724.wordpress.com/2008/03/01/the-owl-and-the-pussycat/ ), the convergence of three bird episodes in one week has the Surfin’ Bird song playing in my head on a continuous loop.
First, Mama Robin has decided to build a nest on the top edge of the new pergola.
A second nest is more problematic. The contractor who is remodeling the bathroom installed a new bathroom fan earlier in the season, when it was still quite cold and definitely pre birdnest season. The outside cover for the vent pipe was left off just a tad too long–a new roof for someone else intervened. Now a family of wrens has taken up residence in the pipe, which means we’ll have to wait until they are off on their own before replacing the vent cover. I’m just hoping nothing else gets in–like a nest of yellow jackets!
The third baby bird story gives new meaning to the appelation “birdbrain.” Not sure if the mother bird found some quirky way to get into my garage, building her nest first, or, if all three of her fledglings managed to fly into the garage en masse, but there were three baby birds flying around in the garage (decorating everything) for about a week.
Mama Bird would fly in and out of the garage, trying to convince the babies to follow her to freedom. One ended up trapped inside a box of items waiting to go to the Fleatique. I teased the things apart, found the baby bird and put it outside. The other two were less cooperative. I left the garage door open for a week, the mother bird constantly scolding and coaxing, bringing them food. Not sure if they actually used the water I put in a big shallow bowl, but they worried me for a week. They were too dumb to fly towards the light.
A-well-a bird, bird, bird the bird is the word…
Search your memory banks to recall that Fleatiquing has become one of my hobby/pass times. It has evolved into a fun and interesting “away time,” that has not only filled the booth (called Coco’s) with things for sale, but has also brought some decidedly quirky items into my personal collection. Nothing to take to the Antiques Road Show, but, small keepsakes that bring a smile to my face when I see them sitting on my shelf. These are a few of the things, I have bought for about $1:
The ’60’s vase:
The Owl Plate. His eyes hold dip:
The “I Love Paris” French Gendarme Bank for my “found money.” (That’s my annual collection of change I find in the street from January-December.)
And, the colors in this Shawnee Pottery Ewer manufactured between 1926 and 1942:
There are a few more examples, but I think you get the drift. Nothing elaborate. Each is just funky enough to catch my eye.
Children and small long-tailed pets (or no-tailed, as the case may be) have once again provided a parent with the “cute story”. The one that will remain with the child forever more. The one, that as a teeneager, they will roll their eyes and say “Oh, Mom.” The one, that as an adult, will bring out the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Talking to a friend this afternon about the behavior patterns of his 9-year old daughter, he said how good she has always been, but that lately she has had a few episodes that have been a little problematic, but cute and funny problems. Case in point: recently, she kidnapped one of the classroom hamsters, putting it in her backpack, feigning surprise when she opened it on the way home in the car, “discovering” that someone must have put it there. That was her story. A story she stuck to for several hours until Dad came home and broke her in 5 minutes.
It reminds me of the time when my daughter and her friend were quietly, need I mention, too quietly, playing in her friend’s bedroom while the adults finished dinner. Eventually, they appeared at the top of the stairs, calling down to tell us that “somehow, the hamster got into the record player, and they couldn’t get him to come out.” They too, stuck to their story, until many years later when they acknowledged that while giving said hamster a ride on the turntable, he had made a mad dash for the safest place he could find–through the opening at the back of the box. From his perspective, it was way better than riding the merry-go-round to the tune of Cinderella. It took the Dads at least half-an-hour to get him out. Those beady little eyes staring through the crease in the side remains etched in my memory. What a hoot–make that squeak…. Oh, Mom.
Have you seen the commercials for Snuggies? The blankets with the built-in sleeves? The blanket that makes you look as if you have converted to some strange new religion that requires the wearing of a bright red or blue monk’s robe. The blanket that would make you a laughing stock when worn at “any sporting event….”
For all those who know and love me, please do not look at this commercial and think “I bet she would love this.” The answer is an unequivocal No. Nada. Nyet. Forgedaboutit.
“Like fingernails on a chalkboard” is the go-to phrase usually used to identify that sound that makes you feel as if your teeth are crawling and your skin has suddenly become home to millions of creepy crawly things.
Most often, screechy sounds happen when the rubber “doesn’t” hit the road, like when the sled suddenly runs out of snow. My worst reaction, however, comes from something far less obvious: packing tape.
Wide tape–mostly 2″ wide x 75 yards–is used to seal cardboard boxes and packages. This is not the 3/4″ kind used for Christmas and birthday presents. This type is attached to the paper at the end of the roll instead of a smooth plastic core.
The issue is that the transparent nature of the tape makes it hard to tell when one is close to the end of the roll. Close to that teeth itching, body-twitching sound that comes when one hits the point where the end of the tape that is attached to the core is now pulling the paper loose from the center.
Timing is everything. How close can one get to the end without going past the point of no return? It’s a soft sound, but it packs a powerful distaste factor. Leads my list. Fingernails on a chalkboard are lightweights compared to the paper pulling loose from the core of packing tape.