A Birdy Week

This week started with the annual Great Backyard Bird Count on Sunday. The Black-capped Chickadees once again were the most prevalent in the half hour that I was watching. But a couple other types of birds made an appearance too, some Tufted Titmice and 2 kinds of Nuthatches, Red-breasted and White-breasted.

Monday morning there were a couple of doves eating under the feeder with the little red squirrel.

Tuesday morning, while letting Mosa decided if she wanted to brave the snow, I spotted a Pileated Woodpecker on a pine tree about 50 feet from the back of the house. You know, the one that Warner Bros. used to designed Woody Woodpecker. It's the white spot in the very center of this picture:If you want to see a better picture, check out Wikipedia's entry.

Then, this morning, a family of 5 Gold Finches came to our backyard feeders. You can (almost?) see 2 here on the green feeder on the left. Everybody else flew away when I got the camera (of course).
I wonder who's going to show up next?

Squirrely Happiness

Red squirrels make me so happy. They're all twitchy and jittery. They move so quickly, they're a streak across the snow. Yet they're happy to sit and eat seeds under our feeder. We have two red squirrels that frequent our feeders. They have created a network of tunnels that makes it possible to get from the woods to the feeder, across the 40 feet of open space, without being seen. It's so nice to see them in the morning, they snack and skitter while I have my coffee. It's a good start to the day for both of us.

Cruisin' to Cozumel

Let me start by telling you that I'm claustrophobic. So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to go on a 4 day cruise from Miami to Cozumel. I figured it was an opportunity to find out whether I could handle the confines of a ship. I'd have a roommate (not E) and no choice in cabins. Should be interesting, n'est pas?

I started by talking with my family dr, and getting some "just in case" panic drugs. The warning label pretty much said, don't plan on doing anything for a few days. I figured someone could carry me to the plane if I ended up taking them, right?

The trip started on Thursday, early (for me) in the morning with a drive to Worcester airport. Yes, Worcester has an airport! The group I went with charted some planes, and we quite literally had our own airport. They even opened a special snack shop for us, since the airline wasn't going to feed us. We flew to Miami without incident, and then took charted buses to the port terminal.

It was about 1pm when I boarded the ship and made my way to my cabin. And that's when the panic attack hit. The hallway was small, the ceiling low, and it was very long. I got to the cabin and broke down. But the cabin itself was fairly large, had a big window to the outside, and had my wonderful roommate, SS, who let me finish freaking out in peace. Then she took me up to the open air deck for some food. And things got a little better. But I never did get used to that hallway.

We had our mandatory lifeboat drill, (did you know, women and children first really is still the rule?), and then I spend most of the afternoon on the open air deck. That evening we set sail, had a reception on the open air deck at sunset, and then dinner. By 9pm SS and I were feeling the early morning, and by 10 we hit the sack.

The next day we had a bunch of morning activities, and unfortunately I had a migraine. I stayed in my cabin most of the day, only coming out for some air and dinner around 6. We were arriving in Cozumel at 10pm, so I took a whole bunch of migraine meds, and we went into the tourist trap. The good thing, the fresh air made me feel better. SS and I had fun finding gifts for our families left at home. By 11 my head was feeling much better, but we were both tired, and had a 9am activity the next day, so we called it a night.

Of course, nobody else on board did. The partying and bright lights finally died sometime around 3:30am, and I was able to fall asleep. And then I awoke to a horrendous, building's falling down around you, BOOM! Followed by another, and another, and another... My sleep-deprived mind finally figured out that it was waves. We were crashing through them. Our cabin was in the very front of the ship, so as the ship crested a wave, it would slam back into the water. So much for sleep, it's overrated anyway.

Saturday morning at 9am we had our last scheduled activity. And it was so sunny and beautiful, I went up on deck (I needed AIR) and sat there on a beach chair all day. The winds were wiping, about 30mph, but I found a lee and had a great time reading my book and talking to people as they passed by. My 30 SPF sunblock kept me burn free, except for the spot I missed on my ankle and my ear, I always miss somewhere.

That evening was our dressy reception and dinner. I had bought a new blouse and was looking pretty girly in my skirt. We had some drinks, went to dinner, and then hit the dance club. SS and I danced our toes off, with a friendly group of friends and strangers. I even got the DJ to play Relax for me, my favorite dance song. The lack of sleep was catching up fast, and I new if I stopped, I'd be done. So we danced, and danced, and danced.

That night, the BANG-ing had lessened to every once in a while, so I got some much needed sleep. The following morning we had to be up so SS could disembark, she was on one of the first off the ship. I was supposed to disembark at 1:45, then re-embark, then disembark again at 3 (port rules are so funny). They had food, and I'd been thinking I'd wait until I got back on board to eat, needed to be full for the foodless flight that wouldn't get in to Worcester until 8pm... But around 12:30 I was hungry, so I figured, OK, I'd eat, then have a snack before leaving. Good thing, because at the first disembarking, we never got back on the ship. Instead we sat on the charted bus. And sat. And sat... Turns out the plane had mechanical issues, so they were getting us another plane, and expecting a 1 1/2 hour delay. But did they let us back on the ship? No.

We finally headed off for the airport, and when we arrived, we pulled up to the security gate (charters don't go out from the main terminal in Miami), and they waved us to the side. Where we sat and waited, and waited, and waited... We had 3 busses of people when we left the port, but only 2 arrived at the airport, and they wouldn't let us enter until we all arrived. Ugh.

When we finally got to the plane, they rushed us through "security", a few tables set up with people to rummage through our carryons and others to wave us down with a wand. Very strange, my knee didn't set off the wand... For those that don't know, I have metal in my knee from and ACL reconstruction and have a habit of setting off metal detectors. Especially wands that are supposed to be more sensative. Not that I was going to tell them that!

We finally headed home, and got 2 bags(!) of chips on the plane, which almost everybody devoured (I think a lot of people were going to eat once they got re-embarked). I had some snacks I'd brought with me, and I offered to share with my seat-mates, so we were probably the least hungry of those on the plane. Hypoglycemia comes in handy sometimes...

At 9:30 my friend MB and I left the airport, and I was home, saying hello to E and the kitties by 10:45. All in all, DEFINETLY not the worst trip home I've had!

On the last day when I was waiting for my turn to disembark the ship, people were asking me what my favorite part was. I couldn't figure it out then, but I have now. Towel animals.

Temperature Theory

This week was a cold one, on Friday morning it was -15 degrees F when I left for work at 8am. My kind of weather!

Which leads to my theory. People like the kind of weather they were born in. So in New England, if you were born during the blizzard of 1978 (albeit in northern New York), you like the cold! So far my theory is holding true. Of all the people I've surveyed, those born in the summer like it hot (anything above 75 is hot to me), and if they were born in the winter they like it cold, like me. And spring and fall babies like it different degrees of moderate.

My family definitely follows this theory. My dad and I were both born in February and we like the cold. I'm grumpy any time the thermometer hits 75 and above. My mom and sister were both born in late summer, and they like it hot. My mom didn't like the cold so much, she moved to New Mexico!

So, what was the weather like when and where you were born? Does my theory hold out for you too?

Snow!

It's funny, for living in New England, a lot of New Englander's complain about the winter. But not me! I love the winter! OK, yeah, that ice thing last week was not so much fun, but technically it was still autumn...

So, snow! We've gotten 20" in the last week, and it's so much fun! Yes, there's the shoveling, but there's also the sledding! Yes, there's the slippery roads, but there's also the good reason to stay home by the fireplace, curled up with E and the kitties. Yes there's the cold, but there's also the comfy warm sweaters and blankets!

My only complaint? The predicted 45 degree day coming mid-week...

Ice Storm

An ice storm hit us here in central MA a little over a week ago. Thursday night E went to visit his parents in southern MA and stayed there over night. The ice had started accumulating on the trees here around 4pm, and before long, they would have had enough.

At midnight, I'd just turned off the light with Noki snuggled up next to me when we heard a big, loud, BOOM, like a rifle shot. Noki looked up and growled, and I told him it was fine and to go to sleep. At 2, I realized the power had gone out, probably at the boom, and that it was possible no one had called the power company. So I called, then crawled back into bed, and heard the loud CRACK-BOOM!! The first tree near the house had toppled. I went and looked out the window, and didn't see anything. So back to bed. And for the next 6 hours, trees were coming down every 15 minutes or so.

At 4:30, I heard another loud CRACK and thought my now ritual mantra - 'Please don't hit the house!' And when the boom came, the whole house shook. I jumped up again to look out the window, and this time one of the close trees had just missed the house. So back to bed.

A long night of not sleeping while listening to trees come down around you leads to some interesting thoughts. Besides, 'Please don't hit the house!' there's the 'I wonder if I should move to a room further from the trees?' And the 'If I move, that's where the tree will end up hitting.' And the morbid 'I wonder if I will be able to reach my cell to call for help if a tree comes in and impales me?'

At 5:30, the mantra finally stopped working, and the first tree hit the house, on the south wall of our bedroom. Again, up to the window, and nothing seemed to be damaged. No sounds of rushing air, no water pouring in the roof, OK, it's OK, I shouldn't call and wake up E at his parents. Back to bed.

At 6:30, the mantra failed again, and a second tree hit the house, this time on the east wall of our bedroom. The whole house shook and I thought for sure I was about to have a tree in bed with me. But no, it luckily bounced the other direction, pulling the wires off the house as it went. This time, I decided it was OK to wake up E and called him. Poor guy, got woken up by a somewhat frantic wife telling him trees were hitting the house.

Aside from the wires, no damage was done, thank goodness. And while the next few hours were stressful, it all worked out OK. E went to the store down by his parents (where they didn't get the ice storm, by the way) and got us a generator. I went out and sawed up the 7 trees across the driveway with my trusty bow saw. And we had the generator for power for the next 8 days, until the power came back.

The only sad part of this story is that, unfortunately, 2 of my fishies didn't make it. Tropical fish aren't used to 20 degree daily temperature changes. Poor little guys. Sniff, sniff.

And now that I've got power back, I suppose there's no excuse for not blogging...

Noki vs. the Vet

Its that time of year again. The leaves start changing, the squirrels devour the seed in the bird feeder to fatten up, and it's time to bring Noki and Mamosa in for their yearly checkup.

Noki hates the vet. Actually, that may be putting it mildly. Noki is TERRIFIED of the vet, and therefore, tries to kill her. And what has the vet done to deserve this? Nothing, aside from being one of the best vets I've ever had.

So, I made the appointment, and brought Noki and Mosa in last night. I got home and pulled out the two cat carriers. Then I grabbed Mosa and struggled to get her into her carrier. Who knew that 8 pounds of cat could put up such a fight? Noki, as usual, came to see what was up, saw his carrier, and walked right into it. Two cats in carriers. So far, so good.

I drove to the vet, and all was quiet. As I got out of the car, juggling the cat carriers and my wallet, all was quiet. And as I stepped onto the porch, the growling started, coming from Noki's carrier. Mosa's was silent. As I walked into the office, a low yowl was added to the growling. I checked in and sat down to wait. And the carrier next to me continued to yowl.

We were called into an exam room by a tech. And as we walked in, the yowling and hissing got louder. I've learned from past experience, if Noki can't see anybody but me, he's quiet. So I put his carrier on the floor, and he was silent. I asked the tech about bringing home Noki's meds, aside from the rabies (by law, the vet has to administer that). She said she'd ask the vet, and left. The vet came in and checked out Mosa. Every thing's great, she's in wonderful shape, and her rabies shot went off without a hitch. Everybody at the vet's office loves Mosa. So the vet gave her a little cuddle, and then we let Mosa go back into her carrier and set it aside. Then it was time for Noki.

Noki is quite adept at putting all 4 legs out and no manner of dumping and shaking will get him out of the carrier. And nobody is going to stick their hands in to get him out, I tried that the first time and he had all 4 legs out then too. Did I mention he's still yowling and hissing? So the only way to let the vet see Noki is to take the carrier apart. Thankfully, there are wing nuts holding the top and bottom together, so this is fairly easy. But the second the top comes off, Noki's yowling and hissing goes up another notch. You'd think someone was torturing him, the noise he makes.

At this point in the visit, the vet always remembers Noki. And a crowd comes to the door to watch (he's that loud).

The vet tried to get closer to him and out came the teeth and claws. Not attacking, just letting her know what would happen if she got any closer. So the vet called for a tech to come and distract Noki so she could give him his rabies shot. Yeah, like that's going to work (it didn't).

Next, out came the wild animal gloves, you know, the gloves that go all the way up to your shoulder and you could use them to weld? The vet donned the gloves and petted Noki to try and calm him down, and managed to pick him up and weigh him (18 lbs, 9 oz, big guy). Then the vet distracted Noki while the tech gave him the rabies shot. And Noki attacked the gloves, but the tech had gotten the shot in. Whew! And then guess what? They agreed to let me take his other shot home, and I could give it to him here. And back on went the top of his carrier.

All I can say is, thank goodness for 3 year rabies shots!

Of course, as soon as we got home, he was his usual, lovable, mommas boy self. Go figure. Maybe next year I'll give him some Valium...