Sunday, January 25, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Waiting for Daylight
The One-Minute Writer: Today's Writing Prompt: Waiting
I breakfast in the bird room--it's my favorite room in the house. I can put my feet up in here, and wrap myself in my afghan to ward off the pre-dawn chill. The dog has been fed and lies sleeping again by my chair. The AGP is still on her favorite sleeping perch, but occasionally says "hello" softly, quietly. I reply, "Good morning, how are you, did you sleep well?" as I am trying hard to teach her this.
Breakfast is usually a bagel and cream cheese, and always two cups of Peet's Ethiopian. Every light in the house and out is turned off. The Birdfather calls this "sitting in the dark." I call it "enjoying the natural light." I eat, and drink coffee. When I am done eating, I flip open the laptop and boot up. The screen is turned down low. I sip my coffee. I check my office e-mail and bank accounts. I check my personal e-mail and bank accounts. I sip more coffee, and listen to the AGP preening in the dark.
My neighbors are starting to leave for work. One by one, their cars pass, lights briefly breaking up the pre-dawn darkness. A few I recognize by the shapes of the dark spaces between head- and tail-lamps. I visit, in this order, the StatCounter for activity on my blogs (there are two people who have already been there every day by this time: I wonder who they are), Facebook, and my blogger Dashboard to see if any of the folks I follow have anything new up since last night. I finish my coffee. The dog stretches and yawns in the quiet blackness to my left.
This is usually a peaceful time. The house is asleep, the neighborhood barely stirring. I think about my day. Today it's a little stressful, however, as I discover I have a very large, very important bill that won't "go" through the bill-payer thingy because there's not enough money to cover it. So this morning I sit in the dark, waiting for daylight, chewing my lip, worrying at this problem, as if thinking about it will somehow solve it.
There is a dark purple-tinged glow on the horizon, but it will be a long time to daylight today, as the weather has us completely socked in.
The clock chimes seven. I tell the girls, "It is time to get this show on the road."
I breakfast in the bird room--it's my favorite room in the house. I can put my feet up in here, and wrap myself in my afghan to ward off the pre-dawn chill. The dog has been fed and lies sleeping again by my chair. The AGP is still on her favorite sleeping perch, but occasionally says "hello" softly, quietly. I reply, "Good morning, how are you, did you sleep well?" as I am trying hard to teach her this.
Breakfast is usually a bagel and cream cheese, and always two cups of Peet's Ethiopian. Every light in the house and out is turned off. The Birdfather calls this "sitting in the dark." I call it "enjoying the natural light." I eat, and drink coffee. When I am done eating, I flip open the laptop and boot up. The screen is turned down low. I sip my coffee. I check my office e-mail and bank accounts. I check my personal e-mail and bank accounts. I sip more coffee, and listen to the AGP preening in the dark.
My neighbors are starting to leave for work. One by one, their cars pass, lights briefly breaking up the pre-dawn darkness. A few I recognize by the shapes of the dark spaces between head- and tail-lamps. I visit, in this order, the StatCounter for activity on my blogs (there are two people who have already been there every day by this time: I wonder who they are), Facebook, and my blogger Dashboard to see if any of the folks I follow have anything new up since last night. I finish my coffee. The dog stretches and yawns in the quiet blackness to my left.
This is usually a peaceful time. The house is asleep, the neighborhood barely stirring. I think about my day. Today it's a little stressful, however, as I discover I have a very large, very important bill that won't "go" through the bill-payer thingy because there's not enough money to cover it. So this morning I sit in the dark, waiting for daylight, chewing my lip, worrying at this problem, as if thinking about it will somehow solve it.
There is a dark purple-tinged glow on the horizon, but it will be a long time to daylight today, as the weather has us completely socked in.
The clock chimes seven. I tell the girls, "It is time to get this show on the road."
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Part-tay!
Turns out the AGP is a party animal.
We had a couple dozen folks over to celebrate the Birdfather's retirement. We worried that a noisy crowd would upset her, and we considered putting her in her travel cage in the back of the house for the duration. But since that end of the house tends to run colder, we decided to try leaving her. The way the house is laid out, even though it's what they used to call an "open plan", people didn't circulate through the bird room but frequently went to meet and talk to her one or two at a time.
And she ate it up. By the end of the first hour or so, if no one was in there with her, she'd start trying to whistle up some interaction! And she was a big hit with our guests.
We had a couple dozen folks over to celebrate the Birdfather's retirement. We worried that a noisy crowd would upset her, and we considered putting her in her travel cage in the back of the house for the duration. But since that end of the house tends to run colder, we decided to try leaving her. The way the house is laid out, even though it's what they used to call an "open plan", people didn't circulate through the bird room but frequently went to meet and talk to her one or two at a time.
And she ate it up. By the end of the first hour or so, if no one was in there with her, she'd start trying to whistle up some interaction! And she was a big hit with our guests.
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