A Thursday Kind of a Blog

After two fantastic long weekends with first my family, and then Brian's, with hosting a dinner party mixed into the middle of it, I completely fell apart this week.  Exhaustion took over and I wandered around like a zombie trying to function.  Then yesterday I got my hair cut and that, evidently, was the last straw.  When I got home I went to sleep.  And I slept.  A whole bunch.

But today is Thursday and, while not terribly interesting, here is what the day looked like:

• I'm still waiting for Doreen the dove to hatch her babies.  It should be happening any minute.  She is completely faithful.  She often gives me hateful looks while I'm watering my plants out front though. 
• I gave several piano lessons.  They were delightful.  My favorite conversation from the lessons went thusly: Me - How was your week? Student - Stressful.  My sister just got home from Belgium and I forgot that she hates me.  
• My parents popped in while I was giving lessons and were kind enough to wait around while I finished up my lessons.  Then they took me to the fair.  They paid my entrance fee.  They bought me lunch.  Clearly, I am still seven years old.  And they let me drag them through every single animal barn.  I loved every second.
• I came home and decided I needed to learn how to play the guitar.  I have done many awkward things with my hands in my piano playing career but I have never done anything as awkward as trying to play a C chord on the guitar.  And I have felt pain while playing the piano but at least the surface of the piano keys never feels like trying to make music on a cheese slicer.  Those strings are a bit ouchy. 
• Currently, the dog is sleeping on the living room rug, Brian is sleeping on the couch "watching" a Cubs game, and I'm checking in with ya'll. 
• Tomorrow - a morning walk and some garage saling with a friend.  Here's hoping your summer is finding you enjoying some easy living as well.

Birds Inc.

I hate to tell you that the bird drama is continuing around here.  But it is. 

The saga of the birds has now moved to the front porch.  Yesterday, whilst watering the hanging flower baskets on my front porch, I discovered a bird nest in one of them.  "No wonder this basket's not looking too hot," I thought to myself.  I looked in the nest: no eggs, no birds.  I decided that the birds must have moved on.  I removed the nest and discarded it in the alley where it was promptly smashed by passing cars.

This morning I awake to find a dove sitting in said hanging basket.  I thought, "silly bird, you can't live here anymore.  I took your nest.  These are no longer suitable lodgings."  When the dove was spooked by a passing car I peeked in the basket to see what damage was done, and behold, there was an egg.  Now I know that egg was not there yesterday.  This dove laid that egg this morning.

Now I'm filled with extreme remorse.  Can you imagine what I've done?!?!  I threw out this mama's nest!  She worked tirelessly to get a cozy space ready to birth her babies, came back to the nest this morning in the midst of birthing pangs, only to discover that her work had been destroyed!  And now, there was no time for her to even gather the resources to build a new one.  The baby was coming and the inn had been torn down.  I am a horrible monster. 

And what do I do about my flowers that are in that basket?  Do I just let her sit all over them and destroy them?  Will I be able to water them?  Will she and her babies be pooping on them?  I read that the gestation period is about 14 days.  How long will they be living there after they hatch?  What if they don't hatch and I've sacrificed my plants for nothing?  Are these residents permanent - will they be returning each year?

Clearly I cannot evict a mother and her babies.  That would be cruel beyond belief.  I guess I'll just be tip-toeing around the front porch for awhile awaiting the new arrivals - and for the magic of nature to unfold.

Last Lesson

It was a beautiful day for our last piano lesson, Nadia and I.  The sun was shining, the windows open: it was as if the heavens were blessing this last meeting between the two of us.

Nadia came to me as a young girl, she must have been in the fourth or fifth grade.  I had taught her older sister some years before and I was aware that their mother had passed away from cancer recently.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would she be fragile and shy, would I need to handle her with kid gloves?  But she came with enthusiasm for learning the piano and an outgoing, sweet, and funny personality.  And we had so many good times together as I watched her develop into a wonderful pianist and a delightful young woman.

I knew today was coming.  This wasn't one of those times where it hits me like a punch in the gut.  She graduated from highschool this spring, and this is an inevitable ending - sad though it may be.  But she gave me the beautiful gift of seeing this thing - piano lessons - through to the end.  It wasn't always easy.  There were plenty of weeks she struggled with practice or didn't make it to a lesson.  We shared the disappointments of poor performances and slow progress at times.  But we also marveled at her increasing ability, her love of music, and those times when her performances just shined.  I loved how inquisitive she is, about music and life.  We laughed A LOT in our lessons.  She also gave me one of those moments that makes me so thrilled to be a piano teacher this spring: she played me a song she had composed.  And it was enchanting - a sweet, beautiful piece of music. 

But on this gorgeous June day, at Nadia's last lesson, we also had the chance to sit and talk to each other - something that normally just can't happen in a half hour lesson.  I wanted to encourage her to continue playing, and to know what she had planned next.  And with the lesson done, we could sit and talk like two friends, without the barrier of the teacher student dynamic - another great gift to me.  She doesn't know what is in store for her next.  And in so many ways neither do I.  I love teaching piano and I know I'm going to continue to do it.  But I also have this feeling that there is something else too.  I just don't know what.  We both had a sense that we are waiting to see what God has in store for us - as if we are both sonatas waiting for the composer to finish the next movement.

Nadia has probably taught me as much as I've taught her, as do most of my students.  I can't wait to see where she goes in life.  This was a good ending, both sad and happy.  As she rose from the piano bench to leave we hugged.  Then we hugged again.  The two of us - unfinished compositions that we are.

For the Birds

It's no secret that I am officially old.  One hallmark of my advancing age is my daily bird-watching.  That's right.  I am obsessed with birds.  It won't be long now until I'm taking bird watching trips, learning bird calls, purchasing bird books, and otherwise engaging in this geriatric past-time. 

However, the birds have been angering me of late.  Frankly, they're needy and rude - not taking into account my feelings or appreciating my efforts to make their lives better at all.

1. A few years ago I purchased a lovely hummingbird feeder to replace my cheeky plastic red one.  The new one is really lovely.  I purchased it at a bird store in Indianapolis.  It's purple and has a lovely disk shape with elegant detailing and a perch for the birds to sit while they eat.  I brought it home, threw out the old one and waited for the hummingbirds to come.  I thought there would surely now be more hummingbirds than ever as word spread throughout bird land of the new and superior feeder that was hanging over by the little yellow house.  I figured I might have to purchase a few more of them so that fights would not break out amongst these charming, yet territorial, feathered creatures.  But they did not come.  In fact, the ones that had been visiting ceased feeding at our house at all.  Finally, last year I went and bought a $3 el-cheapo hummingbird feeder that was red and plastic and stupid looking just to see what happened.  Within minutes the hummingbirds returned.  All manner of hummingbirds descended on that grotesque red feeder.  I am beside myself.  I don't even know if I want them around if they're going to act like that.
2. Ah, the gold finches, with their sweet songs and enchanting head movements.  They love my gold-finch-feeder.  They really do.  I filled that baby up at the beginning of spring and they immediately came and ate.  And ate.  And ate.  They ate like crazy.  Until the feeder was only a quarter full.  And then they stopped.  No more finches.  I wondered what happened.  I thought maybe they were all busy having their babies and would return in a few weeks.  Or maybe a terrible bird tragedy had befallen them like those birds in the south last year.  Were they dropping dead out of the sky?  I worried about my little finches.  I decided to fill the feeder again, even though there was clearly still plenty of food in it, just to see what happened.  Again, within minutes they were back.  All manner of gold finches, verily, every gold finch in the county it seemed was eating their fill.  So, evidently they were all too good to eat the food at the bottom of the feeder?  What?  They want a full feeder or they won't eat?  Who do these finches think they are?  Shame on them.
3. This final example is really the last nail in the coffin for me.  I had read that birds like to eat where there is a water source so they can drink and bathe and be generally content.  So this weekend I finally purchased a bird bath.  Just a silly cheapy one but I think it looks kinda cute.  I thought it would be the final installment in my bird-paradise-back-yard, and I knew the birds would love me for it.  But I also have these little candle holders on posts in my flower beds.  The idea is that they can hold citronella candles but in reality all they do is collect rain water since we never put candles in them.  They are a few feet away from my new bird swimming pool.  And yesterday, I watched a bird reject the bird bath only to land on the edge of one of the candle/water holders.  It took a drink, which was cute so I almost forgave it.  And then.  Then this bawdy little bird turned around, placed its little tail feathers in the water (which was still kind of cute) AND POOPED IN MY CANDLE HOLDER.  I SAW THE POOP FLOAT DOWN THROUGH THE WATER.  And then it flew away.  I have now attached signs to each of the candle holders informing these foul fowl that these are NOT birdy bidets.  Okay, I haven't actually done that but I am incensed, downright offended.  These birds show no respect. 

And that, good people, is why caring for the birds might be better left to the birds.

A Fishy Story

A few weeks ago Brian was away for the weekend repairing a screen in Virginia and I, with a particular and shameful weakness for McDonald's Filet O'Fish meal, decided I should treat myself to this culinary delight.  However, I made the mistake of talking to my sister on the phone and divulging to her my plans.  She shamed me.  She said that if it was a fish sandwich and fries I was desiring that I should simply make it myself, that it would be more delicious and nutritious.  Since I had nothing better to do, and the guilt she had laid upon me was quite immense, I decided to give it a go. 


The first step was purchasing the supplies.  While I try to avoid pre-packaged foods, the ingredients list on the fish fillet box did not seem overly offensive.



I then had to bake my little patties of fishy goodness.



Whilst (I think that word should be used more.  Don't you?) the fish was baking, I whipped out some delightfully tasty tartar sauce, if I do say so myself.

I lovingly placed my fries into a cozy little oil bath.



I then had to tear up a brown paper bag (since I haven't been purchasing paper towels, which would have been much easier in this situation) and spread out my happy fries and sprinkled them with sea salt.



Then I had to steam my buns, because a true Filet O'Fish connoisseur knows that the bun must be steamed for that soft cushiony delightful feeling.



And then it was time to assemble my meal.  Just a tad classier than eating out of a paper bag in a parking lot.

So now you are probably wondering what the verdict was.  (Or how bored I could have possibly been to not only cook this meal, but document the entire process.)  Well...

I should have gone to McDonald's. 

My first mistake was in listening to a woman (my sister) who earlier in the day had prepared six quiches and ten pounds of roasted potatoes for a meeting that would not take place for another week.  She did not discover this gaffe until arriving at the EMPTY meeting location, food in tow.  So, she doesn't even know what day it is and I'm listening to her give me advice about how to make food that is better than a trusted institution.  (Okay, I know that McDonald's is absolutely horrible and I try not to eat there.  It can't stop me from loving their delicious food though.) 

So I gave it a shot.  It didn't take long to prepare.  I'm sure it was better for me.  But my fries were too thick and they got soggy.  And the sandwich lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.  And somehow it just didn't have the delicious irresistability of that Number 9 meal that I adore.

It was probably the absence of plastic and crack-cocaine that is likely in those yummy fries and sumptuous fish sandwich.  Still...

What Just Happened Here?

After spending three months carefully researching prices and travel advice, poring over reviews, watching Rick Steve's "Best of Europe" episodes, and dutifully squirrelling money away for a trip to Ireland in September...last night we finally booked our trip to:

Prague and Budapest

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I don't even know what happened. 

I need to go pull myself together before I accidentally enroll in graduate school all "spur-of-the-moment" too.

Where Have I Been

When I don't blog for a week or two I get completely overwhelmed with all the things I should have blogged about and wanted to blog about...and then my mind gets paralyzed and can't think of anything of any interest to anyone.  So, it is in an attempt to get myself blogging again that I make this entry.  It is in the spirit of one of my favorite bloggers, the yarnharlot, who often writes numbered lists of random happenings.  Here goes:

1. We were thieved.  A hoodlum broke into our garage and took our Garmin (GPS) and Brian's circular saw.  I guess my dad's right.  We live in the ghetto.  But I'm sure that crack-head needed the money worse than we needed that circular saw or the somewhat untrustworthy navigational device.
2. I acquired the lamest sports injury in history.  I took a long walk.  And after that I couldn't walk for days.  According to the internet, I probably had a bit of tendonitis.  From walking.  Are you kidding me?
3. I read a list of symptoms for goiter.  I concluded that I did not in fact have goiter.  I woke up the next morning with goiter.  It's better now.
4. I have been crying excessively for the last two weeks.  The last episode of "The Office" made me a wreck.  My mom recited "The Road Less Traveled" at Easter dinner and I blubbered like a baby the entire time.  I have turned into a sentimental sap.  More so than before.  It's probably a symptom of goiter.
5. I finished the "Harry Potter" book series.  Ten years later than the rest of the world.  But wow, were they ever good!
6. I had an exhilarating library experience.  I requested that the library purchase about five books.  And they did.  And they held them for me so that I could read them first.  The power may have gone to my head. 
7. We spent a lovely weekend in Indy with Brian's parents in which we ate copious amounts of meat.  Mmmmmmmm...
8. Our sweet 1995 Taurus has finally been repaired, i.e. it no longer has its "sweet purr" as I liked to refer to it.  The purr had turned into a roar.  You're welcome neighborhood.  We have done our part to make this area a little less ghetto.
9. In February I took a bunch of items to area consignment shops.  Last week I went and collected $45 dollars from them.  I did not have to get up early, put out tables, put stupid price stickers on anything, and make small talk with strange neighbors.  I will never have another garage sale as long as I live. 
10. My brother-in-law claimed that if you put an orange in a sock and beat somebody with it, they'll be hurt badly but won't bruise.  So guess what we did this weekend after purchasing oranges?  He was wrong.  I have a bruise on my arm from where I beat my own self with a sock-orange.  Brian was the only one smart enough to not take part in this experiment.

In related news: I made it throught the Lent season without shampooing or conditioning my hair.  There were some rough days.  I over-baking-soda'd my hair one day and ended up with a grease bomb living on top of my head.  Then I got some control but I was hating it.  The top of my head was greasy and the tips of my hair were DRY and resembled a bristle broom.  It was disaster. 

I scoured the internet trying to figure out where I was going wrong.  The helpful advice I found said: "Play around with the proportions and methods.  You'll figure out what works for you."  I don't want to play around!  I just want someone to tell me what the three options are and spell out how to do them so I can end this torture!!  One person said "don't use too much baking soda because it will end up making your hair more greasy."  Another said, "If your hair is greasy you need to add some more baking soda."  Thank you so much to the granola-eating-birkentstock-wearing-hippies who can't give me CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW TO GET MY HAIR CLEAN. 

I finally found what has worked for me, thanks to one kind person who made a comment on another blog with some clear instructions.  I have a mixture of roughly two tablespoons of baking soda to one cup of water.  I mix the baking soda with HOT water and shake it until dissolved. (The baking soda should have a slippery, not gritty feel.)  I get my hair dripping wet, and then apply the mixture.  Rub it in.  Let it sit while I brush my teeth.  (Yes, I brush my teeth in the shower...makes way more sense.)  Then rinse it out really good.  I then rinse the ends only of my hair with my vinegar mixture.  (1 Tbs. Vinegar/1 C. Water)  And then I rinse that out. 

I think I'm going to stick with it for a while.  I don't ever want to go through that adjustment period again.  So I'll keep it going until a.) I'm wealthy and can afford really delightful organic hair products or b.) I'm too lazy to take it any longer. 

With that, I leave you with a few pictures of what my hair looked like a few weeks into the project - and I wish you a happy spring!!!