Bird breeder's thoughts on whatever…

09-17-18 Online Dating — September 17, 2018

09-17-18 Online Dating

Those of us of a certain age will recall that when we were much younger, circa 1981 or thereabouts, there was no “online”, so if you wanted to find someone out of your social circle you picked up one of the classified guides that had a personal section and went from there.  There was a time after my first divorce and after my subsequent live-in love, that I gave it a shot.  I wrote a brief description, what I was looking for, and a few photos.  Yes, actual physical pictures!  My, that WAS a long time ago!  Anyway, off into the mail and then the interesting part began.

The responses began rolling in.  Yes, actual physical letters that these men had written in longhand, no less.  I confess it was a riot to pore over all the responses.  Most were very quickly tossed into the “no way, Jose” pile.  And there were a LOT of letters!  Back then I was young and not too shabby to look at, and got a lot of “what are YOU doing looking in the classifieds???”  Well, if you work and you live in a relatively small town, where are you going to meet people?  I also foolishly thought the classifieds might give one an edge, since you’d be weeding out the inappropriate people instantly and would already have an inkling of the character and likes and dislikes of the other party.

After about two weeks and an enormous pile of responses having been cut to two, yes TWO, I thought surely one of these two would be perfect.  The first guy was a psychologist I think.  I honestly can’t remember what it was about him that set him apart from all the rejects.  Had to be something because I was being really picky.  Anyway, we set up a meeting.  Perhaps I was not as savvy as one might think, because he was coming to my apartment and we’d be going out for a bite to eat.  Just a little get-acquainted meeting.  He showed up, and there was NO chemistry.  I mean none.  Not only that, but I believe his profession had him psychoanalyzing me, which I found off-putting and quickly annoying.  Exit number one.

The second prospect was very cute, which didn’t hurt, plus he had a degree in ornithology and was very up on birds.  Of course that was appealing as well.  Drawback to this guy was he lived in Maine.  He said he traveled a lot and it wasn’t a big problem. The first guy hadn’t turned out to be an ax murderer or rapist or anything, so I set up a time for this guy to come visit.

There was definitely some chemistry with this guy.  He was cute, well-spoken, and could hug like nobody’s business.  Something was missing, though, and I’m not sure what it was.  But I really couldn’t see myself going long-term with this guy.  So out of a huge stack I had cut it to two and neither of those made the grade.

Jump ahead to 2018, about 37 years later.  Everything is online, which is both good and bad.  My son said, “you should try” and my son is pretty smart.  So OK, we’ll give it a shot.  I’m 62, so I’m looking for somebody maybe 60 (and even that feels a little like robbing the cradle) to 70.  You can actually put in a very basic search using gender, age range, and location in terms of so many miles from your own zip code.  Then you get to start poring through the results.

The first thing I notice in checking out some of the available men is that they either lie or they are just insane.  Do these guys never just sit home and watch TV?  Read a book?  Take care of their yard?  Apparently not, because all you read is how they like to sky dive, run 20 miles a day, travel to other countries, scuba dive, climb mountains, and on and on.  It’s exhausting just reading about what these guys claim to do.  I’m not buying it.  I would bet these guys were not that active when they were 30, let alone at 60 or 70.  Much like the paper classified guide of all those years ago, there are many men to look at, with very, very few getting a second glance.  Again, pretty much two, so that must be my limit.

I should also say that I first got onto by clicking an ad that popped up while I was in Facebook.  “Sign in with facebook!” Really?  OK, that sounds harmless enough.  What I didn’t realize then was that I was apparently giving them permission to use my facebook picture as well as birthdate / age info as well as location.  So over the next few days I start getting emails with lists of “matches”.  At the time I still had a lot on my mind and hadn’t really decided to do this, so I wasn’t really paying much attention.  Then I got a few messages, and I’m wondering why.  So I finally smartened up and went back into and realized I had a picture up there as well as a very few details.  No profile, but that didn’t seem to be a deal-breaker.  So I removed my picture and a few days later actually took the time to make a profile and even subscribed for six months.  I was committed!

Unlike the optimistic men that apparently fancy themselves as athletes – or are fantasizing that it might get them a very active 20-year-old – I chose to be very honest.  I don’t want to travel.  I am a homebody and like to stay at home.  I don’t like crowds, I like the peace and quiet of the country.  I raise birds and have an obnoxious dog that you will have to deal with if you want to be part of my life.  I’m low maintenance and happiest in shorts and a T shirt or jeans and a sweatshirt.  I’m a conservative and miss the America in which I grew up.  And on and on.  I figured there is either somebody out there that values all that and wants that in a best friend for life, or doesn’t.  Truth in advertising.

The matches that finds are sometimes questionable.  Like the flaming liberals they send on occasion!   Or the ones that want a traveling companion.  Or the mountain climbers.  So as I said, out of tons of possibilities, two struck me.  Here’s where it gets tricky, though.  Do I go for the safe bet that seems a lot like what I had for the last 34 years or the one I keep looking at without even knowing for sure why?  The eyes that keep drawing me back.  The one I can tell is smart as hell which is extremely attractive.

What would you do?  Yeah, me, too.  Let’s hope he’s not an ax murderer.  🙂


9-14-18 ROAR! — September 14, 2018

9-14-18 ROAR!

Anybody hear me roar?  “I am woman” and I just mowed the hell out of that lawn and ENJOYED it!  The best part was chasing the turkeys!

Lots of times in the last week and a half, I’ll suddenly realize I am grinning.  Same thing happened mowing the lawn.  I suddenly realized I was actually having a great time and smiling like a loon.  So I shall roar and I shall mow the lawn like nobody’s business.  There is nobody to tell ME that it looks really good, so I took care of that as well.  One final look and a “Hot damn, Nita, that looks FANTASTIC!!!”    And it does.  Life is good.


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09-05-18: Hope and Possibilities — September 5, 2018

09-05-18: Hope and Possibilities

That “new normal” of mine is changing almost daily.  I think I’ve finally entered into a new phase marked by hope.  I now feel that there are good things to come.  New experiences and, more importantly, new people.  I’m trying to embrace possibilities with an open mind.  I’ve seen that all it takes is one person to change our mindset, if we just allow the idea of possibilities to take hold.

There are no guarantees in life.  My recent experiences certainly illustrate that in a major way.   But there is always that chance that something wonderful is just around the bend.  You just have to have faith and turn the corner and see what lies ahead.

So if life has recently kicked you in the teeth and maybe slammed you up against the wall, get back up.  Dust yourself off.  Do your crying and wallow in misery.  But only for a bit.  Don’t let it become your new mindset.  A friend had told me, “when you’re going through hell, KEEP GOING!”   At the time it resonated with me, so much so that it is now in vinyl within sight of my computer.  A reminder to me that, when I have the occasional set-back,  I need to keep going.

I had a bit of a rough spell today.  There were good things, too – some very good moments – but as the day wore on the worry was beginning to creep back in.  There are some difficulties ahead, and I know that, but I need to remember not to get bogged down in worrying about things that aren’t even here yet.  One day at a time.  I kept going.  I sought out some tunes that triggered some powerful memories and just let them wash over me and give me a reset.

Life is good.  Possibilities abound.  Oh, the possibilities!   Tomorrow is going to be a great day.


8-25-18 And the rings are OFF — August 25, 2018

8-25-18 And the rings are OFF

Last night the rings came off.

When you think you’ve been happy for most of your thirty-four years together, only to find that the husband that left you is calling himself “finally happy” it’s more of a slap in the face than if you’d been physically assaulted.  To me, this has all been like a death.  Worse than a death, really.  And it has me questioning everything.  All the times he said “I love you”… all the cards professing undying love and how we were soul mates… how could I have believed it all for so long and thought it was real?  It seemed real.  But then how can it change so quickly and be as if it never happened?  And how can I ever trust anyone again after a betrayal like this?

Nobody wants to get old, but I always thought getting old with your best friend would be fine.  All the shared stories, shared memories… it’s part of what makes you happy with someone and able to smile.  Facing the world together, I thought that meant you could conquer anything.  Knowing that there is one person that understands you and has your back is huge.  Apparently I was wrong.

So, as much as I thought that a few weeks ago was my “new normal”, last night truly marked my new normal.  Because now I see it really was all a lie and this is truly the end and the beginning.  The indentation on my finger will be a constant reminder of the death of a marriage and the end of life as I knew it.

So how do I move on from this?  Unlike one who is “finally happy” I am faced with the uncertainty of whether I will be able to stay in the home I love and whether I will be able to keep the animals I love.  I have already given up some of them, including my beloved chickens.  Who knew that giving up the chickens would be like a little death inside?  I don’t know what the future holds.  I know that this kind of stress is not good for anyone, so I need to try to get on with life.  At the moment that seems like a very tall order.



08-20-18 Despair — August 20, 2018

08-20-18 Despair

I remember watching an episode of “Everybody loves Raymond” where Deborah wanted to be alone to have a good cry. The premise was that this was a good thing… a release. I’ve heard others say they felt better after a good cry. To me, “good cry” is an oxymoron. I have never felt better after crying.

My current situation, as I have been told by a good friend, is a “process” and very much ongoing and changeable. Truer words were never spoken. I have days – sometimes several at a stretch – where I feel good about things. I can do this. I will end up better off when all is said and done.

Then there are the days when I burst into tears out of the blue and feel like my life is just such a mess and will never be normal again. The despair that hits me is like a big, dark cloud that covers me from head to toe and threatens to blot out all light and swallow me into the darkness. And back to the “good cry” – it doesn’t exist for me. The more I cry, the worse I feel. Not only does it put me into a horrible place emotionally, it physically drains me. I feel like I could just curl up in a ball and do nothing but wallow in self-pity. The puffy eyes and blotchy face and inability to breathe don’t exactly help matters.

How to escape the pit of helplessness? I will check my ever-present list of things to do and then busy myself. I got so much done last week when I was feeling like “I got this!” If I get anything done today it will be because “I DON’T got this!” But I can get something accomplished anyway, and hopefully take my mind away from the black fears that are blotting out the light. Maybe by the time I am done with the first task, the light will come flooding back and along with it the hope that things will work out. Not just the hope, but the certainty that things will work out and everything will be okay.

Then I will go out and look at the mountain and marvel at the world God made for us. I will see and hear the birds outside and smile at the beauty all around. And I will thank Him for all the good things, and ask Him to help me get through all this and to the other side.  And I will go find my dog, buried under the covers of my bed, blissfully happy and dreaming doggy dreams, and I will hug him and tell him I love him, just to see his tail wag and the look of joy on his face.  And I will be okay.


The New Normal — August 15, 2018

The New Normal

I just finished mowing the lawn.  I thought the saying was “third time’s the charm.”  Well this was the third time, and I was just as nervous and shaky as the first two times.  It’s a riding mower.  Isn’t that supposed to be easy?  So why do I get so scared on the hilly bits – and there are a lot of those – and why do I feel like I’ve run a marathon when I’m done?  Not that I’ve ever run a marathon or would run a marathon, but it’s how I imagine one would feel.  The irony that I’ve protected my skin from the sun for most of my sixty-two years only to be forced into the sun to mow the lawn is not lost on me.

This is the new normal.  It’s what happens when a marriage dies.  Thirty-four years together and I always thought that it was forever, till we were old – ok, older – and gray – ok, grayer.  A month ago I never imagined this.  And that is how quickly a new normal can come to be.

So now it’s mowing lawns and trying to remember what shuts off the water should something blow and getting used to being alone at night.  The last is the easiest, except for the quick terror when the dog looks at the window when it’s pitch black outside and growls and barks like he’s seen the devil out there.  Lots of outside lights and a gun erase that momentary panic fairly quickly, though.  Other than that, being alone is not so bad when you don’t mind your own company, and I don’t.  I’ve never been one to be bored either, and in fact could never understand how anyone could ever say they are bored.  I feel I have never had enough time, and still feel that way.  So many things to do that I already know I love, and even more to try.  The worst thing of this new normal is the fear of what the future holds.  Or more precisely, not knowing what the future holds.  Clearly that was an illusion all these years anyway, so what has really changed?

It would be easy to just curl up in a ball and give in to feelings of despair.  And there were times initially, when I was alone, that just a quick thought of what was happening would make me cry.  But you know, despair is overrated.  Fine to cry and carry on for brief spells when you just can’t do otherwise, but I think despair just makes you more miserable.  So I’ve been forcing myself to do things that are out of my comfort zone.  A visit to the senior center just to meet a few people and see what it was like.  Applying for a job (it’s been thirty-four years).  Using an ATM for the first time EVER.  A road trip to pick up a couple of birds.  I know – none of these are earth-shattering accomplishments, but every time I force myself to do something out of my comfort zone it is an accomplishment.  Setting small goals and actually doing them does wonders for your self-esteem and self-confidence.  I used to be fierce, oh so many years ago, and I want some of that back.  I need it back.  And I’m getting it back.

The biggest goal now is to try to stay here.  I am a homebody.  I love my home, my pets, my stuff.  I have lived here for almost thirty-three years, and I love this spot.  It’s peaceful, quiet, and beautiful.  Right now I don’t know if I will be able to stay or not, but I know I can make it through till spring, and after that I will reassess my options.  A lot can happen in the coming months.  Who knows what may come from this new normal of mine.

I was reminded this morning of an article I read once.  They did studies and found that when you are happy, a smile is automatic due to your brain.  I believe it was that the chemicals released by your brain when you are happy just trigger the smile.  Something like that.  The point of the article was that it also works the other way.  If you plaster a smile on your face – whether you are feeling it or not – that will tell your brain that you are happy.  If your brain thinks you’re happy, those same chemicals will be released and then you WILL be happy!  How perfect is that?  The old “fake it till you make it” has a real basis in science.  So I’m vowing to be more aware of my expression, and wear a smile as often as possible.  Besides, it’s a great fashion accessory and it’s cheap.  And it goes with everything.


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05-19-18: The Nightmare of Windows 10, aka I Hate Change — May 19, 2018

05-19-18: The Nightmare of Windows 10, aka I Hate Change

I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to my computer.  I mean, when I have an issue I can usually manage to search out the fix.  But Windows 10…  you can’t see, but I’m shaking my head in disgust.  I miss the days of Windows XP when things were simple.  Why is it that so often when things are supposed to have been made easy, they are so much harder?

Windows 10 didn’t seem that bad initially.  It’s the constant pain in the butt updates that always seem to mess things up.  Every time it has one of it’s major updates – and there have been too many to even remember – it messes up the settings.  Previous Windows didn’t have that issue.  Now, every time it updates and is improved – HA! – I have to redo certain things.  Like the ability to right click a picture file and preview it.  Can’t do that without going to settings and associating photos yet AGAIN.  (What, you say using capitals means I’m shouting?  I KNOW.)

So we had this huge update two nights ago.  Took forever. Today I had to redo my associations.  Then I plug in one of my cameras and even THAT is messed up.  It has to reinstall the device, then it wants to know how to deal with it.  Here is where it gets dicey, because I bear some of the blame.  I accidentally clicked on something other using your basic File Explorer.  In the old days, you could write click and say OPEN WITH and change your mind.  Can I do that now?  Heck no!   I uninstall the camera.  Plug it back in and it needs to install the device.  Perfect, right?  No, because once it does, it goes back to opening some program I didn’t want opening my files and there seems to be no way to get around it.

I spend the next hour trying to solve the issue, including searching for fixes.  I finally discover that if you right-click on the window icon and select Device Manager you get some slightly different options.  After that it’s kind of a blur, and though I *think* I solved the problem, I’m not really sure.  Frankly, I’m a bit afraid to try plugging in the camera again, as it would not surprise me if my “fix” has disappeared, along with my tolerance to Windows updates.

Other than fighting with Windows 10, I’ve been spending a lot of time handfeeding baby birds.  Budgies, budgies, and more budgies!  I have 6 kids left from the first clutches, all weaned and ready to go.  I’m handfeeding Daffy’s 4 kids, plus 4 of Cinnamon’s current clutch as well as 2 of Cleo’s last clutch.  In Cinnamon’s nestbox are her youngest 5 plus the youngest of Cleo’s kids, and these 6 will be pulled and added to the crowd either Monday or Tuesday.  It feels like my current motto should be “All Budgies… All The Time”.

We have an incubator with 14 banty eggs inside, and 12 of the 14 appear to be fertile and developing nicely.  I checked them a few days ago, and could see a few of their very active heartbeats.  It was pretty neat.  I have never seen the heart beating like that before.  If it’s any indication, these kids appear to be doing really well.  They should hatch anytime from next Sunday through Tuesday.   It’s always so exciting to watch them hatch!

It’s raining today, which we really need.  It will be good for the ground and also help to knock the pollen down.  The black flies have come out in full force and I’m again very thankful we have a screened in porch.  Very nice to have things greening up and all the plants and trees coming back to life.

We picked up 9 banty chicks at Tractor Supply back in March, and they turned out to be 5 white Silkies and 4 Golden Sebrights.  One of the Sebrights is a rooster and has the cutest, squeaky crow right now.  I imitate his squeaky crow to him, and he answers me.  I took a little video of this and put it up on you tube, here.  Scott says one of the Silkies is also trying to crow, but has a deeper voice.  I haven’t heard him yet, but I’m looking forward to “communicating” with him as well.  🙂

Till next time,


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01-08-18 Laundry Woes — January 8, 2018

01-08-18 Laundry Woes

I have barely gotten used to thinking of myself as middle-aged, though it’s unlikely I will live to be 122, but still, the mind and the body are not really in agreement here.  And truth be told, the mind is also no longer nearly as quick as it once was.  The right word is often elusive, to the point where it will come to me hours – even days – later, totally out of the blue, and I will triumphantly exclaim, ” Huey Lewis!”  in answer to a question that may actually no longer come to mind either.  But I digress (as is often the case). Give me the whole “middle-aged” thing and I will get on with my thought.

At this point in middle-age, is it really necessary for me to check every pocket before I do the laundry?  And by “every pocket” I clearly am not including MY pockets.  They are never the issue.  I mean, sure, if you have a five-year-old or even ten-year-old in the house, it’s wise to check those pockets.  But must I check the pockets of a man very nearly at the same state of middle-age as I am?  In fact, a mere spring chicken, or rooster, being fourteen months younger than I.   Apparently the answer is yes.

Said man, who shall remain nameless though you all know who he is, is prone to carrying paper towels in his pockets.  Sometimes these paper towels will go through washer and dryer intact – a nice clean, warm little bundle presented to me in the same pocket when laundry is being folded.  How charming, I think.  Okay, I don’t think that, but I could.  Other times, upon opening the lid of the washer, it is apparent immediately that some small riot has occurred during the laundering process.  Clearly bits of paper towel have chosen sides in a massive paper towel war, determined to obliterate the opposing side.

Like today, when what met me upon opening the lid was at least a hundred bits of paper towel, firmly attached to everything from jeans to t-shirts as if by glue.  The number may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it certainly seemed to be that many, if not more.  Wouldn’t you think that a gingerly shake of a t-shirt would dislodge a piece of paper towel?  How about the vicious thrashing of a pair of jeans?  Nope.  Twas not to be.  Instead I had to pick pieces off by hand, which was quite hard to do given the thick blue air surrounding me which seemed to emanate from the rather colorful language escaping my lips.

Funny, I had no problem remembering those words.

In the grand scheme of things it was maybe twenty minutes or a half hour of time wasted.  And it did get me fired up enough to finally open my blog, so there’s that.

Oh, by the way, Happy New Year!


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11-17-17: Giving Thanks for an Early Christmas Miracle — November 17, 2017

11-17-17: Giving Thanks for an Early Christmas Miracle

I had some final shopping to do before Thanksgiving.  I also wanted to be sure I picked up a couple of the super bargain frozen turkeys for thirty-nine cents per pound.  What a deal!   So it was off to Hannaford for the specials.

The bin with the frozen turkeys made me realize how bad my arthritis in my fingers is.  I could not pick up the turkeys.  A very nice lady helped me, for which I thanked her profusely.  Another kind lady pointed out that I had dropped something from my pocketbook.  A tootsie pop.  God knows how long it’s been in the side pocket of my purse, but I like to be prepared for the possibility of breaking down in a snowstorm and having a tootsie pop in my purse to keep me from dying before I’m rescued.  OK, so I don’t go out if it’s snowing, but still.

Anyway, got the specials in my cart and checked out.  The wind practically blew me out of the parking lot, but finally I had the car loaded and headed next to Walmart, for the antihistamines that keep my dizziness more or less at bay.  Walking to the store, I see something out of the corner of my left eye, and reach up to my glasses to see if there is something there.  Yup.  I feel something.  So I pull off the glasses and realize it is the screw to the frame that holds the lens in place.  It’s backed out almost all the way.  I hold the glasses cupped in my hand and go into the store and immediately head for the Optical department.

Luckily they were not busy, so I approached the two clerks and asked, “is it possibly you could help me with my glasses?  The screw has backed out.”    One of them holds out her hand and I deposit the glasses.  She said, “Do you have the lens?”     WHAT??????   I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice the lens was now missing!  Crap.  Panic.  I see dollar signs flashing before my eyes.  I told them I never noticed the lens was gone and I must have dropped it on the way into the store.  So she said she’d hang onto my glasses while I went to look for it.

I retrace my steps back to my car.  Nothing.  Checked inside the car, just in case it had fallen out inside.  Nothing.  Retrace my steps yet again, all the way back inside and to the optical shop.  I told them I had not found the lens and she said she would tighten the screw for me so they at least stayed together.  I took my one-lensed glasses and left, after first stopping in at customer service to leave my name and number in case someone turned in the missing lens.

I decided I’d better snap it up and go back to Hannaford, on the off chance that the lens might be found somewhere in the store.   I parked next to my original space and searched the ground.  Nothing.  Retraced my steps back into the store, which is totally packed, by the way.  I keep thinking that even if I did find the lens, what were the odds that it would have been either stepped on or run over by now?

Retracing steps when my original trip had included several round-about searches for various items was not easy.  But I tried my best.  I then remembered having dropped the tootsie pop at the turkey bin and thought, if I dropped that, then maybe that is where the lens also fell out.  So back to the turkey bin I go, first trying to search among the gobblers.  Again, trying to move the frozen birds was not easy on my hands, but I did the best I could and didn’t see the lens.  I turned to continue retracing my steps over the remainder of the store, all the while with my eyes glued to the floor.

And I saw it.  My lens sitting just a few feet from the turkey bin, on the floor.  Just then another customer wheeled his wagon over the left edge of it!   “AAAARRGGHHH!” I said, causing the man with the carriage to stop and look at me.  “Oh my God, my lens!” I cried, and swooped down to pick it up.  The man laughed and said “wow, that was lucky!”   I said “don’t I know it!  Thank you, God!”  I couldn’t believe it was not broken.

So back to Walmart and the optical department.  Same two clerks.  They looked up at me, probably thinking “you again?”  and I said, “are you ready for an early Christmas miracle?”  I opened my hand to show them the lens.  I told them the story as one of them repaired the glasses for me.  What a relief.

The moral of this story is perhaps twofold.  One, miracles do happen.  Two, never keep your outside glasses so clean that you can’t tell if the lens is missing.  Had this happened to my inside glasses, the lack of smudges and fingerprints would have immediately alerted me to the fact that the lens was missing.  🙂


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11-7-17 What a Night — November 7, 2017

11-7-17 What a Night

I have a hard time getting to sleep so it’s often midnight or later by the time I drift off.  When I’m lucky, I don’t wake up in the night, but a night of solid sleep is a pretty rare thing.  Last night was classic.

I think I fell asleep around quarter past midnight.  Next thing I know, I’m awakened to Spot’s bark.  Sometimes he gets me up to go potty or if he’s not feeling good he’ll want to go out and find some grass to eat and throw up.  So I got out of bed, opened his crate, and made my way out to the door that opens to his yard.  I look around for Spot, and he’s no longer at my side.  I retrace my steps.  Check the bathroom, since the door is closed I think he may have gone in and been trapped.  Nope.  Check the living room, thinking he’s scavenging the remains of Mel’s (the grey) nighttime snacks on his play stand.  Nope.  Back into the bedroom, where Spot is once again in his crate, curled up in a ball.  He looks at me like “What?”   I ask him if he doesn’t want to go out and he again gives me that look, like I’m disturbing HIM.   Fine.  Go back and shut out the outside light and re-lock the door.

Back in bed and I drift back off pretty quickly.  Next thing I know, the room is lurching and it’s apparent I have rolled over only to have the sporadically recurring Labyrinthitis rear its ugly head.  I freeze, careful not to even shift my eyes, and it subsides.  Now I become a statue in bed for fear of triggering another spell.  Eventually I fall asleep again.

I am once again awakened, this time by the sound of something falling onto the floor in the living room.  Did I forget to close Mel in his cage?  Hard to believe.  I slowly manage to roll over and sit up, still worried about the lurching dizziness hitting me.   And again something hits the floor.  Now I’m wide awake and wondering that the heck is going on in the next room.  I put on my light and shield my eyes till they adjust.  I go into the living room and find an electronic thermometer unit and a small spray bottle of Lens Cleaner on the floor.  Now I’m wondering if we have a mouse in the house.  Not thrilled with the idea of that.  Still not sure even today what caused the items to fall, unless the thermometer fell off the wall because the sticky tape gave out, and maybe it hit the Lens Cleaner on the way to the floor and left that precariously balanced and just needing a few minutes to fall.  Or we have a mouse.  The latter would be a pretty odd occurrence, but I suppose it’s possible.  Back to bed for more statue sleep and waiting for the alarm to go off.

A night of interrupted sleep is not too restful.  This morning I felt slightly nauseous, due I’m sure to the Lab.  I knew I needed to get an antihistamine into me as soon as possible.  Years ago after the Lab had first him me, I actually had a doctor then and she confirmed it was Labyrinthitis that I’d had.  She is the one that told me I should have come in and she would have told me to take antihistamines to keep it manageable.  She also reassured me that most people only get the Lab once.  I’m not most people, and actually have learned of many people that DO get it periodically, but not to the same debilitating degree as the first time.  So this morning it was a dose of antihistamine for me, and now, almost three hours later, I’m feeling the effects in that I could close my eyes and pass out in this chair quite easily.  However, I can also move my head without feeling any lurching, so I’ll suffer through the tiredness.

Not a great night or morning, but it gets worse.  I went in to feed the baby gouldian only to find him on his back, dead.  He still had food in his crop, so he died in the night, maybe a few hours after his last feeding.  I am only guessing that he aspirated.  He had been getting a lot more lively and flopping onto his back was not unheard of, but I think that can also contribute to aspiration in one so small.  I should have known when I posted a video of him that I was just asking for trouble.  It’s as if fate conspires once I finally feel a finch is going to make it, to strike them dead unexpectedly.  I’m trying to look at the positives.  I got more experience feeding a tiny, stunted little finch.  Not much of a positive, but it’s all I have.

I hope you are having a better day!


Nita’s Nest

NitasNestCreations (my etsy shop)