Paint and peacocks
Things overheard this weekend:
"Can we hold on this conversation? I have to put the elephants out."
"Attention all staff: The tigers have been exchanged. Repeat: The tigers have been exchanged. Craig, do you copy?" (followed by minutes of uncomfortable silence while everyone wonders if Craig is still unmauled) "uhh, sorry. Craig here. Monkey issue. I copy."
"He's cute and all, and I would totally do him, but I wouldn't ever bring him around my friends. He can't talk right and is kinda stupid. But maaaan, cute."
"So she calls an hour before my wedding and then doesn't even show up. I'm like, "MOM!" She's so frustrating sometimes."
"Hey, did that peacock just pee on that guy?"
Zoos are fascinating places, even more so when you're there for 10 hours (2 hours before they open till after they close) and you're essentially invisible, hidden up a ladder along one of the major pathways. Hyena laughter is EERIE. The zoo I was working at is filled with peacocks that mingle with visitors, maintaining a delicate balance between tolerance and aggression and occasionally, if reports are to be believed, peeing on the more obnoxious passers-by. One of them adopted me, checking up on me every once and a while over my two days of work and attempting to eat my paint when I wasn't looking. It was sweet. I named him Kyle, since every Kyle I've known has been pretty and dim and probably at some point ate paint.
(pause as J double-checks that none on her friends is named Kyle)
The zoo folks were very kind and made sure that I was completely roped off from the visitors, which led to a "don't feed the painter" feel that I kind of liked. Most of the kids were polite, with the conversation consisting of (Kid)"What's she doing?" (Parent)"Why don't you ask her?" (Kid)"What you doing?" (Me)"Painting" (Kid)"Oh." There were a few budding artists who then added "Heh, I could do that." but for the most part they were content with the basics.
My favorite was one unfortunate southern kid with a drawl who complimented me with "That's some durn good art." Kids are funny.
Then there were the parents. Let's just say that my faith in human decency has taken a bit of a dip in the past couple of days. Also my faith in people's abililty to pronounce "theater".
Here's the schtuff:
uh, LadyJay(tm) and all that
Nothing like waking up to...
This morning I let the pups out into the backyard and wandered out with them in my robe, eating my oatmeal (mmm... Trader Joe's oatmeal), only to find that they both rushed to the fence seperating my sidewalk/yard from my neighbors sidewalk/yard/junk storage area. I kind of live in the ghetto. There was a little moving grey thing hopping along their property, and I peeked closer to see an adolescent sparrow that had miraculously survived a fall from its nest in the neighbor's roof overhang two stories above. It didn't have any feathers, but the fuzz-covered thing was almost as big as its mother (who was hovering nearby with her beak full of crap, freaking out at me and the dogs and probably the situation in general) and pretty mobile, which I'm sure caused the whole problem in the first place.
You may guess that I'm a sucker for lost or hurt animals, based on the current hair-covered contents of my house, and you may be right. However, I looked at the 2-story climb to the nest, looked at the sparrow be-bopping its way towards Rooster in an adorable "are you my mommy?" death-wish hop, thought of the almost hourly feeding and care that a baby sparrow needs until it matures, and thought that the wild animal rescue places I'm familiar with probably wouldn't consider a sparrow a "wild" creature.
Then I grabbed the dogs and went back inside, and went to work, and now it's bugging me. So, to calm my failed-sparrow-rescuer's guilt, here is what happened after I left:
Situation A:
Sparrow mom develops supersparrow strength at the realization that her baby has bounced out of his nest. She grabs her giant child with her wings and FLINGS it up the 20-or-so feet to their nest hole, where he nestles back in with his siblings, pretty much unaware that anything has happened. Mom sparrow goes to get twigs to build a safety railing. The end.
Situation B:
Thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, baby sparrow is able to survive in a shoebox that momma sparrow thoughtfully lines with crap (to form sort of a nest-extension, or nest foreign office. Nest deux. I'll stop now.). She brings him food along with his siblings and he grows big and healthy, though a little unsocialized from being alone with only his mother as an outside contact. Once his wings are covered with feathers and he is able to fly, he joins the greater sparrow universe and after a little therapy he is able to get a honey (though his irrational fondness for shoeboxes causes problems in their relationship from time to time). The end.
Situation C:
Rooster is touched by the little sparrow's attempted adoption, and decides that his call to nurture is not something that should be ignored. He spontaneously grows thumbs and is able to open the back door and leap the fence (oh, he also grows leaping abilities, since right now he can barely get on the couch without falling over) to pick up the baby sparrow in his giant, yet gentle, jaws. He also grows gentle jaws. Rooster whisks the sparrow inside and stashes him in one of the many hidey-holes he's got going around the house, effectively protecting the baby from Monkey (who has not grown anything, and still has the urge to kill little moving things). He regurgitates his food and somehow the baby sparrow learns to love the taste of lamb-flavored kibble and grows up strong and healthy. The two of them spend many long evenings gazing into eachothers eyes and chirping quietly in their own love language. Soon the sparrow has his feathers and is walking around freely (thanks to a well-timed peck to the nose, Monkey has lost all interest in eating Ox anymore) (oh, Rooster named him Ox). He has no urge to fly, since his role-model does just fine walking on the ground, and his only real frustration in life is that it's hard to pick up a tennis ball when all you have to work with his a short, stubby little beak. I develop a special leash for him for our frequent walks, and then we all join the circus. The end.
Okay, I feel better now.
Hoooly cow
Just when I think that my e-life is approaching normalcy:
"hi there how are u doing, i am sean cross from, chelsea uk,i am a contractor, i am sinlge, 45,have black hairs, 6:2 tall caucatian i work hard to earn more money every day i have all it takes to leave a good life but somethings are missing in it and they are smiles like urs good and romantic lady, caring, and understanding lady, sweet and open minded type and straight forward type and i think i am seeing that in u my lady coz as i saw ur pics i felt something moved in me that u are my lost treasure that im am looking 4 lol funny right buts itd true) i have a daughther and the mother is late,and i am in seach of a new love that can care 4 me and my kid ok so we could once again become a happy family ,well if u dont mind i will like to give u my maill add so that we could both talk there either my hotmail or yahoo.****hotmail.com or ****yahoo.com. i will be grateful if u could reaply me back ty see u later byeeeeee( and plsss remember someone loves ur smile and thinks its charming and angelic keep smiling)."
I love that his ratio is 6:2
And that the mother of his daughter is late
And the byeeeeee
