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What's a "Flitter"?
I used to have a parrot. An African Grey parrot.
The bird was given to me by a friend when I was going through an extremely tough time in my life.
For those of you who aren't familiar with parrots, African Greys are smart. Really smart. Spooky smart! My bird surely lived up to that reputation!
I was single, and at the time I wasn't much for the social scene. Being the animal lover that I am, I spent alot of time with the pet. So the bird and I (this sounds weird) bonded. I worked with the bird, training her, teaching her tricks, teaching her to talk, teaching her cuss words all sorts of stuff (her favorite line was "damn bird").
Over time the bird became brilliantly socialized, not only with me, but with other people as well. Mentally, she was like a five year-old kid.
She talked all of the time. Not just mocking words back, but true speech. She was about the size of a pigeon and she had my vocal characteristics (think John Hiatt, only with a deeper voice).
Whenever the phone would ring she would say "hello" then start mumbling, like she had watched (and listened to) me do a thousand times before. Whenever my alarm clock would go off, the bird would yell "Shower!". Whenever someone would knock on my apartment door she'd say "come in" or "doors open" like she had witnessed time and time again. One time I walked out of the bathroom in my underwear and my (hot) across the hall neighbor was standing in my living room. There I stand in my tighty-whiteys, vunerable, as my hot as hell, girl-next-door neighbor is sizing me up for all I'm worth. I duck for cover as she pretends to look away. "You told me to come in! I'm sorry. You told me to come in! I'm so embarrassed..." I look over at the bird, she's on top of her cage, looking all smug, then the bird gives me one of those looks that says "WHAT?!"
I'd take the bird everywhere. Whenever I'd go to the pool, the bird was in tow. Whenever I'd go to the park, I had the bird. Whenever I'd take a roadtrip, the bird was with me. You get the idea.
The bird and I took a roadtrip to the Georgia coast one Memorial Day weekend. I had worked all day on that Friday, then came home and packed the car (and yes, the bird) and we headed off to St. Simons Island. My parents had a place down there and I was going to meet up with them and the rest of my family for a long weekend at the beach.
I was tired when I left my apartment and St. Simons was a good three hour drive away, but I was excited to be off and I was looking forward to catching up with my family.
For those of you who aren't up on your Georgia geography, St. Simons is a small island community just off the Georgia coast. It's located across the toll bridge from Brunswick Georgia, and adjacent to the posh, high-brow, Sea Island community. Sea Island is hosting the G8 Economic Summit in a couple of weeks. Anyway, back to the story.
The bird and I are on our way. I've got a small cage for her that I used as her travel cage, but she's tame and likes seeing out so I let her out of the cage. She sits on top of the cage for most of the trip. Ocassionally, when she would get bored, she'd climb up on my shoulder for a while only to climb back to her perch on the cage.
By now we're in Brunswick. It's late. It's around 11:00 - 11:30. I make the turn onto the long toll bridge. The bird is back on my shoulder, fumbling with a quarter between her talons and her beek. I'm doing about 45 miles per hour, starting to slow down because I've got the toll booth in sight. I'm coming up on the toll booth.
Then, in a total lapse of sense, and in memory what seems like slow motion, I hit the button to roll the window down.
In an instant the bird is gone. I'm not sure if it's the change in pressure, or the fear, fight or flight response, or the wind, but the bird gets sucked out the window.
I yank the car over to the side of the road immediately. I get out, dodging traffic, I'm screaming for the bird in hopes I can find her. I search for a while-- no luck. Then the cops show up. I tell them the situation. They help me search for a while. They even call in to have their dispatcher call the local radio station to put out an A.P.B. Still no luck. It's now almost three in the morning. After three hours or so of searching the road, and the swampy coastline I give up and head on to my parent's place.
When I get there I'm depressed as hell. I've just lost my bird, my pet, my buddy.
I tell my family what happened.
As I'm giving the rundown of the past few hours, my mom, in her ever so compassionate way, finally lets go and giggles like a maniac and says "she's flat as a flitter-- I'm going to bed." then she turns in for the night.
Damned Bird!
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Everytime I've told this story people laugh hysterically, then apologize for laughing. No need for sympathy. It was one of those things that just kind of happened, but gets funnier every time I tell it. Besides, I'm one of those types that laugh like a son of a bitch when somebody bumps their head and falls out flat.
5/28/2004 07:58:39 AM
Mi Casa, Su Treehouse.
Made it back. Told you I would.
The trip was great. Long. But great all the same. Ten hours (roundtrip + worktime) in a small plane within 24 hours is about all the micro-vacation I could stand. It was good to be "off" with my brother.
I'm sure you want to hear about all the trouble we got into in Little Rock. You want to hear all about the booze, the drugs, the strip-clubs, the hookers.
Yeah me too.
You see, when you travel with a preacher, none of the wild stuff ever seems to happen. Yep, my brother is a preacher. He was also the pilot on our trip. It's good to have a preacher as your pilot because: a.) wild stuff doesn't happen to him, especially when he's flying, and b.) if the plane does go into the dirt like a yard-dart, there's somebody with 'connections' to plead my case to the guy at the pearly gate. Bets hedged.
He's just not much on strip-clubs, drugs, and hookers. Come to think of it, neither am I.
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Treehouse...
I've got the backporch to a point where I'd like to show it off. That's an understatement, I'm dying to show it off!!! Wanna see?
5/23/2004 10:59:10 PM
Leslie hates when I fly.
I'm in the air tomorrow. The Arkansas trip is back on. I'll be flying from Macon to Little Rock with my brother in his little Cessna 172.
I can't wait.
Flying for me is like a micro-vacation, especially in a small plane.
For me, there's something cathartic in giving someone (in this case, my brother) total trust with my wellness and safe-being for a few hours. Taking that responsibility off of my shoulders for a while, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, "...that's good! One less thing."
Don't get me wrong, I'm aware of all the potential hazards, but I don't let them bother me. When we're on the tarmac, running up the engine, and just the split second before our wheels leave the ground, a calm comes over me. That calm is really more of a letting go, a freedom from all the things that in the 'big picture' is nothing more than life's static.
I always ask/say to myself, "If it's my time? OK." Just for that little while, I am OK with anything that happens.
I wish I could live all of my life like that.
*Note to Leslie- I'll be in bed, with you, Friday night. Don't Worry! PS- No Byes!
5/19/2004 05:02:06 PM
Heavy Mental Music
Thanks all who left comments regarding the new site, and the kind words about Leslie and RZ. Like I said in the last post its in its beta version. Come to find out it'll be a while before I swap over, I'm having real problems with the CSS and (like several of you pointed out) the body typeface sucked (and blowed). Not to mention WordPress has a new version coming out within the next few weeks, another good reason to wait. Oh I almost forgot the biggest reason not to swap over... Leslie doesn't like the new look. She says it's "too plain". She's my best critic. Always has been!
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I've noticed that I've been dodging posting.
I've been blaming it on trying to get the new version up and happy, but truthfully I've just had a hard time getting anything out. I've written several posts only to trash them before I hit 'publish'. I've been bugged up lately and it showed in my writing. Nothing major, just a bunch of 'heavy mental music'. Frankly I didn't want to post the hurl (no offense TCWH). I knew I'd revisit it later and get pissed-off for ever writing it in the first place.
On a lighter note, I got lost in the shop this evening thanks to Scott. When I say lost, I mean I was home by 5:20pm, and had torch lit, and in hand by 5:25pm. Before I knew it it was dark. I had burnt (hey look... a pun. I'm rolling my eyes.) through 3 hours in (what seemed like) 20 minutes. Finally after weeks of abusing my inner red-headed stepchild, I was able to get out of my head and throw myself into a project like I haven't done in a L-O-N-G time. WHAT A RELEASE!!! I could say it was better than sex, but, well, um, that just ain't the case. It was good, just not 'shooting lighting bolts from your fingertips' kind of good.
Anyway, take a look:
My Shop Alfresco
Does a shop have to have four walls? three? or even two? Ok, so I've got a wall and a roof. It does the job.
Steel Pennant/Flag
(start lisp) It's the rage in all of the "IN" gardens, this yee-uh hun-ee! (end lisp)
Dragonfly
It's aerodynamic and weighs only 21 pounds. This thing would make small change out of Toto in a windstorm.
Hunter/Gatherer
Coat of Arms
You can't tell it by the picture but that sucker is over seven feet tall.
By the way, when melting quarter inch treadplate steel, I highly recommend listening to:
A. The Police
B. Nine Inch Nails
C. Warren Zevon
D. Lou Reed
E. Oingo
F. All of the Above
5/17/2004 09:46:02 PM
R80o - Version 2.0 Beta
The trip to Arkansas was cancelled due to inclement weather. The trip to the beach was cancelled due to inclement cashflow. I decided to take a few mental health days off anyway. I’ve been in my shop getting back into the metal sculpture groove and I’ve had enough quality time to be able to work on the new (soon to be renamed) R80o site design.
So without further hoop-lah here’s the new site.
I would REALLY appreciate any feedback/critique/suggestions you can offer.
5/14/2004 09:09:32 PM
My "Oh Shit" wardrobe is starting to fit again!
I've reached a milestone.
I've mentioned before how my ever expanding pants size had become an issue. I was carrying my weight like a squirrel carries an apple. Plus I was losing any semblance of a neck. I had gotten to be all face.
Well I'd like to report that I'm down from my all time high of 224 lbs. back in December, to 198 lbs. today.
Hey look! Toes! I can see my toes!!!
5/12/2004 07:02:09 AM
My wife wears a cape.
It looks like the trip to the beach this weekend is off. Work calls.
I forgot that I'm heading to Arkansas and won't be back until Saturday. So the kite flying and the beer drinking will have to wait for at least another week.
On a different note, I've been looking at changing the look of my blog. I've been checking out WordPress as a blogging back-end. Now after all of the effort I've put into WP, I log into Blogger yesterday and see all of the updates there. They've really overhauled Blogger and did a fine job of it! I like the changes, but I think I'll wind up going with Wordpress when the dust finally settles. Now if I could only come up with a clear concept for the changes to the site I want to make all would be well.
Other stuff that's been going on lately... Let's see... The backporch is almost finished. I'm going to save the bragging on that one until it's all the way finished. But I will tell you this much, it is a freakin' masterpiece! I'd be surprised if the camera crew from Design on a Dime doesn't show up at our door! I'll post on that soon, with pictures and everything.
Another biggie that happened this past weekend, I got around to cleaning up my shop. I enjoy metal sculpting, and the fact that I haven't produced any slag over the past few years really started to annoy me. So I did something about it. I'd like to say that I cleaned it up and toiled for hours in it creating yet another masterpiece, but I pulled a muscle in my back early Saturday, so nothing else was accomplished.
What else? Hmmmm.
Oh yeah, I lapsed into a drug induced coma Saturday night.
Not really, well almost.
The pulled muscle was giving me grief late Saturday afternoon so I decided to medicate myself with a painkiller, an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxer. Leslie leaves, then returns home a couple of hours later and finds me on the red sofa, one eye half open, drooling, barely breathing (she thought), and mumbling. "I'm awake inside, I'm awake inside" I told her, of course all she heard was "bleh mah-wo kee si, bleh mah-wo kee si". She carts me off to bed.
There are times like these when my wife is less my partner and more my keeper.
5/11/2004 08:04:28 AM
All work and no play makes me a trembling mass of goo.
I need a break. I've lost my blink reflex from staring at the computer for days on end.
Recreation has now become a serious priority.
I've been spinning my wheels at work as well as at home.
"Overwhelmed" is a term I've used in several conversations recently. "Depression" is a term I've used in several conversations with myself. Depression is something I never, EVER want to go through again.
Last night I had "battle dreams" where I argued with everybody. A definite indicator that I need to relax and re-create.
Leslie summed it up pretty well the other night when she said that I need to get away "and do something fun" and "do something for you". She suggested that I pack the tent and head off to the lake for a long weekend. Sounds simple enough.
Instead of the lake, I've got the beach on my mind. So next weekend, if you're in St. Augustine and you see a guy, in his late thirties, in dire need of Coppertone, flying a kite, it'll be me.
Bring beer.
5/7/2004 04:50:42 PM
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's talent.
"I envy you so much it hurts."
Ok maybe I turned the drama knob up "to eleven", but I really do envy people who can/do make music. Oh how I wish I could sit down at a piano and just play, or stand up with a sax and just wail. Unfortunately, the only musical instrument I now how to play is a stereo.
This desire goes back to when I was a little kid. While my friends were playing make believe with their G.I. Joes (yes, the real one... yes, with kung-fu grip and a stubby beard.), I had my brother's headphones, listening to his 8 track, pretending I was Pablo Cruise(quit laughing, that hurts). I played bass for The Doobie Brothers. I even sang backup vocals for Earth, Wind and Fire. How many ten year-old, white bread, suburbanite, little boys can lay claim to that kind of mental construct? Not many I bet.
I've been to a few concerts. I find myself feeling let down when I leave because I know I'll never be able to feel what that guy onstage must be feeling. I can only imagine the "rush" he feels when he connects with the audience. I can only imagine what it must be like to syncronize your talents and just let go and play. A true "jam" has to be an unreal experience. We went to a Spyro Gyra concert a while back (in a theatre that holds less than 200 people). The energy there was incredible... Indescribable! I swear before the night was over sparks bolts of lightning were shooting out of my butt. To be able to stir that kind of emotion... what a gift!
The optimist in me would like to be able to resolve that one day I'll do just that, one day I'll make music. The realist in me realizes that it'd be easier to teach a wildebeest to drive a Volvo.
I'm an artist. The language of sight and symbols, that I can understand. The language of hearing, I can't seem to wrap my head around. I can appreciate it, I just can't produce it and that bothers me. I want to do both.
Question: what do I do if I want to try and learn to play an instrument? What really works (and on a limited budget)? By the way singing, IS NOT AN OPTION. I scare children, the elderly and small animals when I try to sing.
5/4/2004 01:16:49 AM
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