Since I don't really have anything worthwhile to contribute to the world today, I thought that I would just let my thoughts go where they will, and see what happens.
First of all, I would like to talk about my pet parrot, Connor. ( Connor, the Conure parrot.) I got Connor about a month ago; I have always wanted a parrot. I wanted one that I could teach to talk, but two things influenced my decision to buy Connor. Main thing was the price. Conures are the small parrots, they don't usually talk, if they do, it is limited (according to the articles that I have read). I like to research everything before buying, and according to research, Conure parrots have a more out-going personality than their larger feathered friends. Large parrots are more prone to bite, although they are capable of an extensive vocabulary. So, the second main reason for getting a Conure was the fact of having a more social pet. I'm telling you what, I never knew a bird could have a personality like Connor does. He's just like a little person, I've read that they are like two-year-olds. He absolutely loves to be paid attention to; if you don't do it voluntarily, he will sit on the door of his cage, (we keep it open most of the time during the day), and he will either screech, whistle, or trill to get our attention. He's usually very vocal during the day, but when I cover his cage at night, somehow he figures that the screeching and yelling will not work, so it's the funniest thing to hear him try to sweet-talk us into uncovering his cage. He makes soft little chirrup noises, and any other little birdie noises to try to get our attention. In the morning, when I go to uncover him, he will hop onto the inside of the door and "ride" it as it comes down, he just can't wait to be held and talked to. If you don't pick him up right away, he will strreeeettcchhh toward you as hard as he can and try his best to "talk" you into picking him up. It amazes me how human he acts.
The previous owner told me when I clipped his toenails, that I'd be better off taking him to the vet and letting them do it, because he holds a grudge; but if I did it, I'd better hold him in a towel. So, tonight I decided that I really needed to cut the toenails, despite the hard feelings that may result, because he keeps getting hung up in Sarah's hair every time she lets him sit on top of her head. I actually had to break several hairs to get him disentangled from her hair last night. I decided that I'd better not put it off any longer. So, I get my little towel, and wrap him up, and try to do the job. Let me tell you folks, it's harder than you think that it might be to clip a parrot's toenails; especially when the parrot doesn't want you to. I never in my life heard such screeching as I did tonight. You'd have thought I was killing the poor little thing, it's a wonder the neighbors didn't call the police for parrot abuse, the way he was carrying on. I just thought he was loud before, it didn't even compare to the decimal level that I heard. That was one mad bird. But it was kind of funny to see him throw a fit like that, he just seemed so human! Parrots don't have but four toes on each foot; good thing it didn't take that long, poor thing would have probably had a heart attack or something, the way he was all worked up. Goofy bird! But, you know what? He didn't seem to hold a grudge; that was unexpected, but a welcome relief. I guess he was so glad that I turned him loose, that he wasn't worried about pay-back. Either that, or he knew that he needed his nails clipped, and he knew that this was the only way to get it done. Who knows how a bird thinks? Good grief, when I start thinking like a bird, then everyone can legitimately call me a bird brain!
I love to watch him eat sunflower seeds. He uses those toes like fingers. He'll hold the seed in his mouth, and crack it, and then will stand on one foot, and hold the seed in his other foot, and PEEL the little skin off the seed, (until this time , I never knew that sunflower kernels HAD little skins on them.) Then he will delicately nibble a little at a time until the kernel is gone. He looks so human when he does it, it's hilarious!
He LOVES to get into your hair, and stomp around. Then he'll start to groom. It's the funniest thing to watch; he'll take little individual strands and stretch them out in his mouth all the way to the length of the hair, (can you imagine him doing it to Sarah's hair? ) But his favorite head of all time to stomp around in, is knot-head Steven's. He gets so excited when he gets in Steven's hair; he stomps all around, and gets in a frenzy to get him all groomed before someone removes him. And poor little Steven looks kind of nervous with the bird tromping all around on his head; after all, Connor is not completely potty-trained yet. (Yes, Conure parrots can be potty-trained , interesting, huh?) But, all's well that ends well; so far Steven has not been "doodied" on, although I can't say the same for the rest of us!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
All Around The World In Just Three Hours
Ok, so maybe it wasn't all around the world; just all around St. Clair county. But what makes it fun, (did I just use the word "fun" for the set of circumstances that JoAnna and I experienced last night?) ; Ok, let's call it fun for the time being, I can always edit later, and I HAVE to call it something.
It all started with a good deed, which I am feeling real noble about, because, as you know, good deeds are fun to do when you can pat yourself on the back for sacrificing for someone else. But, wait a minute, the good deed was for my daughter, whom, as we all know, we sacrifice for from the minute they are born; nay, from BEFORE the time that they are born; so does this still count as a good deed since it was a sacrifice that I would have done anyway, since she is my daughter; or does it only count if it was done for someone of which I wouldn't normally have done it? Oh, lordy, I'm getting sidetracked, see what you have to look forward to as you age? (Where's my cane and glasses?)
Ok, so back to this good deed, (that I have decided DOES count as a good deed, because the bible says that if you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto Me, and since Amber was there and Jesus wasn't at the time, and Amber needed a good deed done, and Jesus said.................good grief , here I go again!!!!!!)
So, here's how the good deed thing works. When you are feeling bad, either physically or emotionally, (good deeds count for either in this case; see, I restrained myself, I'm not getting sidetracked again....), anyway, when you are feeling bad, (either physically or emotionally; oh wait, I've already covered that); then whichever is the strongest of you at that time, is the one to go out of their way for the other. Now, recently, Amber has been the stronger of the two of us; I had just gone through a bad several days, and Amber was there to lend support, (which is a miracle in itself, because she has been feeling really bad from being "with child", and has not been able to take care of herself and her family, much less be a support system for dear old Mom, but she stepped up to the plate admirably, and was there for me!! Yay, Amber, go girl!!!! Oh lord, here I go again!!!!) Dang, I keep this up, I'm gonna have to write this in installments.
Back to the subject at hand; now what was it? Oh yes, good deeds. As I have already established, I have been down, and Amber has been the support person. Now. Last night, the roles were reversed, and Amber was down, and I was the support person. I had Knot-heads 1 and 2 at my house, because grandchildren and grandparents get very cranky if not given an opportunity occasionally to eat junk food and watch cartoons and spend money on junk toys at Dollar General. But when it came time for the boys to go home, Amber and Frank both were wiped out; her from being "with child", and him from working, being an angel of mercy and all. So, since I was not as tired and worn out as they were, then I felt like I should volunteer to take the boys home, so their dear deserving parents could get some rest. Dang, I feel noble, where did I put my humble crown (encrusted with diamonds)? Oh good grief, Carole, get on with the story!!!
So the trip to the boys house went fine. We sped along the back country roads, singing with the cd in the player, looking out for deer, so we wouldn't hit one with the car accidentally. (Frankie and Steven were watching for the deer, because whoever rides shotgun is automatically appointed that job; and let me say what a fine job they did too, we did not hit one single deer on that ride home......thanks, boys!!)
Ok, so we made it to the boys house in one piece; no deer were harmed in the making of this story, me and Frankie sung Steven to sleep, and Amber and Frank got some more rest.
The real fun started when JoAnna and I left to go home. Now, it is a known fact, that I could not find my way out of a wet paper bag if my life depended on it; and here I am in the boonies, with no sense of direction; which is not really a problem, because I have driven that route many times, and knew how to get home. The problem started when I got the bright idea to stop by WalMart for groceries before heading home. After all, WalMart is just a couple of miles out of the way, I'm going in that general direction anyway, we DO need groceries, and if we stop at this particular WalMart it will be good, because everyone knows that the people in the little towns are ever so much friendlier than the ones in the big city, it's after ten p.m. so they won't be too crowded. So, I get directions from Amber, and off we go into the wild blue yonder; well, BLACK yonder, 'cause it was nighttime. I've been told by a higher authority that Amber is not the best judge of distance when it comes to giving directions, so I tried to allow for a little lee-way, when , what should have been approximately three miles seemed to stretch on and on and on, (and on).
I told JoAnna that this was the longest three miles that I had ever been on, and was wondering if someone had changed the linear footage of a mile and forgot to tell me, and so I finally decided to pull over and get out the good old GPS, and try to get back on track. I started looking for a place to pull over, and thought I never would because, after all, we are in the boonies, it's after ten p.m., and other than me, JoAnna, and the cows, I saw very few signs of life. After a little while, I came upon a wide place in the road, with a building, and LOTS of cars. Now, I'm not the brightest star in the galaxy, so when I started wondering what kind of business could possibly be thriving that late at night, it wasn't too hard to figure out "bar", especially when a huge sign by the side of the road proudly stated "Tha Bar". I kid you not, this is what the sign said. Tha Bar. (hehehe)
So I pull over into the parking lot, and was looking for a place to stop, and to the right of the car, a headlight came between two parked cars, and stopped literally 2/16th of an inch from the passenger-side window. I absolutely had a heart attack, I am not kidding. I'm driving along in the boonies, a weary traveler trying to find her way, and almost run down by a drunk dude on a motorcycle. Now, I couldn't for sure attest to the fact that this dude was drunk, but 1. He was in a bar's parking lot; surely he wasn't there for his health at that time of night, and 2. he drove between two parked cars and almost hit a car that was ten times bigger than his motorcycle; how in the world he managed not to see something that big, and how in the world he missed it are beyond me. Which leads me to assume that the dude had to have been drunk. And the bad thing about it is, if he HAD hit me, it probably wouldn't have done a whole lot to my jeep, but he would have been seriously hurt, and as an EMT, I would have had to save his stupid, drunk life. I've never been in a serious car accident, but, I'm telling you, this (almost) one like to have scared the living daylights out of me. And at the exact second that this near-miss happened, my cell phone started ringing, and progressively getting louder and louder, and I couldn't answer right away because I literally could not move from shock. So, the guy was not hurt because he didn't hit us, and the jeep was not touched, so I pulled over to compose myself, and try to get back on track.
Only to find out that the GPS was not in the car at all; I had taken it into the house a couple of days before, and forgotten to put it back into the jeep. So, not only am I lost, but I am still in the boonies, I have just had a heart attack, I have no idea where I am, how far off track I am, no idea how to get back to civilization, and a bad tire on the front of my jeep. I could just see myself having to call my husband to report a mutilation of my vehicle, and you're where?, and what are you doing THERE? , at this hour of the night. Embarrassing! So, I decided to try to turn around and go back the way I came and try to figure it out myself; so, about eight miles later, I came upon an intersection that looked familiar, and lo and behold, there was WalMart, lights shining in the distance. Now, I had told myself that I wasn't going to stop, I was already aggravated enough by that time, but I am a stubborn person, and I wasn't going to let this beat me; so off I go into WalMart's parking lot. The trip inside wasn't too bad; I bought my groceries, only having a little incident inside the store that was a little stressful, and loading up and starting for home.
Now, to re-cap, I am the one that cannot find my way out of a wet paper bag; I am still in the boonies, (friendly people in the country, but nevertheless, still in the boonies),I now have frozen food in the back that needs to be in the refrigerator, it's even later at night than it was an hour ago; I still have a bad tire on the front of my jeep; and I really still don't know where I am, and I am hoping that if I point the front of the jeep in a direction, that it will be the right direction. Well, folks, let me tell you, this strategy is not a good one. Take it from me, you really need to know where to point your jeep, because trusting that little blue devil to know the way home is sheer foolishness.
I saw a freeway sign just out of WalMart parking lot, but I thought that if I did that, then it would take me the long way around, and I had already had my nice little drive through the country tonight, thank you very much. Also, I didn't know if I was supposed to go north or south on the freeway, and I sure didn't want to wind up in Timbuctoo, so I didn't get on the freeway. So, I drove forever and ever, (this three miles was even longer than the last three miles), and the bad thing about it is, I even thought I recognized landmarks along the way. Now, let's see, did we pass St. Clair County Correctional Facility before? (and remember not to pick up any hitchhikers if I should happen to see any; oh never mind, that's another story). I started to get worried after about ten miles, so I figured that my only choice was to keep going, that if I turned around now, that it would take me just that much longer to get home; and there are no roadsigns or anything to tell me where I was. ( I didn't figure that the "Hay For Sale" sign would do me any good.) FINALLY, I saw a sign, and it said "Welcome To Ashville". Boy, when I make a mistake, I do a royal job, don't I? I couldn't explain if I had to, how in the world I got to Ashville from Springville. (But I saw a sign in Springville that said the EXXON had gas for $2.99 a gallon; we haven't seen it that cheap in a long time!)
Well, I figured that if I just drove along, that eventually I would come to a main intersection that I could use to try to figure out how to get home. I drove along for a while more, and saw some blinking lights in the distance, and it kind of puzzled me because they would appear and disappear. I thought that that was strange, until I got to the enormous tree that was lying across the road, hiding the police and fire apparatus on the other side of the tree. So, now I had no choice, I HAVE to turn around and go back the way I came. A good ten dad-gum miles, no less! RRRrrrrrr!! I literally cannot win for losing, but at this point, I'm thinking, this is totally ridiculous, it can't get any crazier than this, let's play this out and see what happens. So, I finally had to break down and call Steven, and answer all the questions that he seemed to think that I needed to answer before he could tell me how to get home; where are you, how did you manage to get THERE from HERE, what were you doing in that part of town, you did what?, and so forth and so on; only to hear him finally say, " I have no idea where you are, or how to tell you to get home". What do I keep a dang man around for if he can't help me in a time of crisis, I ask you? Had to go through the embarrassing question and answer session for nothing, 'cause I still didn't get any help. Good grief!
His final advice was to turn around, get back to the freeway, GO SOUTH, get off on the next exit, take a right, and you should know where you are. Which almost worked, it didn't take me exactly where I had been before, but before I had time to worry, I arrived at a place that I knew, the very place I had started from, two hours and forty miles earlier.
But, while I was there, I stopped and got gas for $2.99 a gallon. What a bargain!
It all started with a good deed, which I am feeling real noble about, because, as you know, good deeds are fun to do when you can pat yourself on the back for sacrificing for someone else. But, wait a minute, the good deed was for my daughter, whom, as we all know, we sacrifice for from the minute they are born; nay, from BEFORE the time that they are born; so does this still count as a good deed since it was a sacrifice that I would have done anyway, since she is my daughter; or does it only count if it was done for someone of which I wouldn't normally have done it? Oh, lordy, I'm getting sidetracked, see what you have to look forward to as you age? (Where's my cane and glasses?)
Ok, so back to this good deed, (that I have decided DOES count as a good deed, because the bible says that if you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto Me, and since Amber was there and Jesus wasn't at the time, and Amber needed a good deed done, and Jesus said.................good grief , here I go again!!!!!!)
So, here's how the good deed thing works. When you are feeling bad, either physically or emotionally, (good deeds count for either in this case; see, I restrained myself, I'm not getting sidetracked again....), anyway, when you are feeling bad, (either physically or emotionally; oh wait, I've already covered that); then whichever is the strongest of you at that time, is the one to go out of their way for the other. Now, recently, Amber has been the stronger of the two of us; I had just gone through a bad several days, and Amber was there to lend support, (which is a miracle in itself, because she has been feeling really bad from being "with child", and has not been able to take care of herself and her family, much less be a support system for dear old Mom, but she stepped up to the plate admirably, and was there for me!! Yay, Amber, go girl!!!! Oh lord, here I go again!!!!) Dang, I keep this up, I'm gonna have to write this in installments.
Back to the subject at hand; now what was it? Oh yes, good deeds. As I have already established, I have been down, and Amber has been the support person. Now. Last night, the roles were reversed, and Amber was down, and I was the support person. I had Knot-heads 1 and 2 at my house, because grandchildren and grandparents get very cranky if not given an opportunity occasionally to eat junk food and watch cartoons and spend money on junk toys at Dollar General. But when it came time for the boys to go home, Amber and Frank both were wiped out; her from being "with child", and him from working, being an angel of mercy and all. So, since I was not as tired and worn out as they were, then I felt like I should volunteer to take the boys home, so their dear deserving parents could get some rest. Dang, I feel noble, where did I put my humble crown (encrusted with diamonds)? Oh good grief, Carole, get on with the story!!!
So the trip to the boys house went fine. We sped along the back country roads, singing with the cd in the player, looking out for deer, so we wouldn't hit one with the car accidentally. (Frankie and Steven were watching for the deer, because whoever rides shotgun is automatically appointed that job; and let me say what a fine job they did too, we did not hit one single deer on that ride home......thanks, boys!!)
Ok, so we made it to the boys house in one piece; no deer were harmed in the making of this story, me and Frankie sung Steven to sleep, and Amber and Frank got some more rest.
The real fun started when JoAnna and I left to go home. Now, it is a known fact, that I could not find my way out of a wet paper bag if my life depended on it; and here I am in the boonies, with no sense of direction; which is not really a problem, because I have driven that route many times, and knew how to get home. The problem started when I got the bright idea to stop by WalMart for groceries before heading home. After all, WalMart is just a couple of miles out of the way, I'm going in that general direction anyway, we DO need groceries, and if we stop at this particular WalMart it will be good, because everyone knows that the people in the little towns are ever so much friendlier than the ones in the big city, it's after ten p.m. so they won't be too crowded. So, I get directions from Amber, and off we go into the wild blue yonder; well, BLACK yonder, 'cause it was nighttime. I've been told by a higher authority that Amber is not the best judge of distance when it comes to giving directions, so I tried to allow for a little lee-way, when , what should have been approximately three miles seemed to stretch on and on and on, (and on).
I told JoAnna that this was the longest three miles that I had ever been on, and was wondering if someone had changed the linear footage of a mile and forgot to tell me, and so I finally decided to pull over and get out the good old GPS, and try to get back on track. I started looking for a place to pull over, and thought I never would because, after all, we are in the boonies, it's after ten p.m., and other than me, JoAnna, and the cows, I saw very few signs of life. After a little while, I came upon a wide place in the road, with a building, and LOTS of cars. Now, I'm not the brightest star in the galaxy, so when I started wondering what kind of business could possibly be thriving that late at night, it wasn't too hard to figure out "bar", especially when a huge sign by the side of the road proudly stated "Tha Bar". I kid you not, this is what the sign said. Tha Bar. (hehehe)
So I pull over into the parking lot, and was looking for a place to stop, and to the right of the car, a headlight came between two parked cars, and stopped literally 2/16th of an inch from the passenger-side window. I absolutely had a heart attack, I am not kidding. I'm driving along in the boonies, a weary traveler trying to find her way, and almost run down by a drunk dude on a motorcycle. Now, I couldn't for sure attest to the fact that this dude was drunk, but 1. He was in a bar's parking lot; surely he wasn't there for his health at that time of night, and 2. he drove between two parked cars and almost hit a car that was ten times bigger than his motorcycle; how in the world he managed not to see something that big, and how in the world he missed it are beyond me. Which leads me to assume that the dude had to have been drunk. And the bad thing about it is, if he HAD hit me, it probably wouldn't have done a whole lot to my jeep, but he would have been seriously hurt, and as an EMT, I would have had to save his stupid, drunk life. I've never been in a serious car accident, but, I'm telling you, this (almost) one like to have scared the living daylights out of me. And at the exact second that this near-miss happened, my cell phone started ringing, and progressively getting louder and louder, and I couldn't answer right away because I literally could not move from shock. So, the guy was not hurt because he didn't hit us, and the jeep was not touched, so I pulled over to compose myself, and try to get back on track.
Only to find out that the GPS was not in the car at all; I had taken it into the house a couple of days before, and forgotten to put it back into the jeep. So, not only am I lost, but I am still in the boonies, I have just had a heart attack, I have no idea where I am, how far off track I am, no idea how to get back to civilization, and a bad tire on the front of my jeep. I could just see myself having to call my husband to report a mutilation of my vehicle, and you're where?, and what are you doing THERE? , at this hour of the night. Embarrassing! So, I decided to try to turn around and go back the way I came and try to figure it out myself; so, about eight miles later, I came upon an intersection that looked familiar, and lo and behold, there was WalMart, lights shining in the distance. Now, I had told myself that I wasn't going to stop, I was already aggravated enough by that time, but I am a stubborn person, and I wasn't going to let this beat me; so off I go into WalMart's parking lot. The trip inside wasn't too bad; I bought my groceries, only having a little incident inside the store that was a little stressful, and loading up and starting for home.
Now, to re-cap, I am the one that cannot find my way out of a wet paper bag; I am still in the boonies, (friendly people in the country, but nevertheless, still in the boonies),I now have frozen food in the back that needs to be in the refrigerator, it's even later at night than it was an hour ago; I still have a bad tire on the front of my jeep; and I really still don't know where I am, and I am hoping that if I point the front of the jeep in a direction, that it will be the right direction. Well, folks, let me tell you, this strategy is not a good one. Take it from me, you really need to know where to point your jeep, because trusting that little blue devil to know the way home is sheer foolishness.
I saw a freeway sign just out of WalMart parking lot, but I thought that if I did that, then it would take me the long way around, and I had already had my nice little drive through the country tonight, thank you very much. Also, I didn't know if I was supposed to go north or south on the freeway, and I sure didn't want to wind up in Timbuctoo, so I didn't get on the freeway. So, I drove forever and ever, (this three miles was even longer than the last three miles), and the bad thing about it is, I even thought I recognized landmarks along the way. Now, let's see, did we pass St. Clair County Correctional Facility before? (and remember not to pick up any hitchhikers if I should happen to see any; oh never mind, that's another story). I started to get worried after about ten miles, so I figured that my only choice was to keep going, that if I turned around now, that it would take me just that much longer to get home; and there are no roadsigns or anything to tell me where I was. ( I didn't figure that the "Hay For Sale" sign would do me any good.) FINALLY, I saw a sign, and it said "Welcome To Ashville". Boy, when I make a mistake, I do a royal job, don't I? I couldn't explain if I had to, how in the world I got to Ashville from Springville. (But I saw a sign in Springville that said the EXXON had gas for $2.99 a gallon; we haven't seen it that cheap in a long time!)
Well, I figured that if I just drove along, that eventually I would come to a main intersection that I could use to try to figure out how to get home. I drove along for a while more, and saw some blinking lights in the distance, and it kind of puzzled me because they would appear and disappear. I thought that that was strange, until I got to the enormous tree that was lying across the road, hiding the police and fire apparatus on the other side of the tree. So, now I had no choice, I HAVE to turn around and go back the way I came. A good ten dad-gum miles, no less! RRRrrrrrr!! I literally cannot win for losing, but at this point, I'm thinking, this is totally ridiculous, it can't get any crazier than this, let's play this out and see what happens. So, I finally had to break down and call Steven, and answer all the questions that he seemed to think that I needed to answer before he could tell me how to get home; where are you, how did you manage to get THERE from HERE, what were you doing in that part of town, you did what?, and so forth and so on; only to hear him finally say, " I have no idea where you are, or how to tell you to get home". What do I keep a dang man around for if he can't help me in a time of crisis, I ask you? Had to go through the embarrassing question and answer session for nothing, 'cause I still didn't get any help. Good grief!
His final advice was to turn around, get back to the freeway, GO SOUTH, get off on the next exit, take a right, and you should know where you are. Which almost worked, it didn't take me exactly where I had been before, but before I had time to worry, I arrived at a place that I knew, the very place I had started from, two hours and forty miles earlier.
But, while I was there, I stopped and got gas for $2.99 a gallon. What a bargain!
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