Thursday, June 22, 2006

Gomez rocks my world. Just saw them last night in the city. What an amazing, energetic performance. Do go find their phonograph records and give them a listen.

What a nice night, too - all courtesy Chris M., who bought tickets for my birthday present. We drove in after work and, after the slightly frustrating wait at the Holland Tunnel, had the best pizza in the world for dinner (at John's on Bleecker) and went next door to Cones, my most favorite gelato place in the world. Have you not been to Cones? They have some of the best (and most unusual) sorbet flavors. I tried samples of the corn (yes, corn - it tastes like slightly sweet popcorn) and pear, but settled on my alltime favorite, canteloupe. We danced all of it off at the show, where the floor perceptibly moved under the weight of a thousand happy people pogoing.

A good time was had by all.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

sign of the times

I finally did it. I threw out the vast archive of notebooks I'd been writing in as journals since 1994.

From pillar to post these things followed me in ever-growing numbers, because I felt they might help me someday in my writing to "give insight" into certain life events. Well, I sat down and began reading some of my treasured notebooks, and I was bored. These heartbreaking revelations and stunning insights sounded whiny and self-indulgent, and I concluded that I would be mighty embarrassed if they ever fell into the hands of family members (or whoever else will break in to my apartment to find my body being licked by my starving cats).

Besides, I have my blog now. Why not whine and be self-indulgent in front of all cyberspace?

At the same time, I also threw away the folder containing all my most important papers from undergrad. They can't take my degree away now! And anyway, when am I ever going to sit around and read my ideas on why Madame Bovary was a proto-feminist?

Monday, June 19, 2006

Stacey Needs

It's a meme. Google your first name and "needs" and see what comes up. Here's my top 10. Amazing how many are kind of applicable.

Stacey needs.... graduate. get rid of the mullet. accountant.
...many surgeries to get rid of the excess skin.
...a break.
...somewhere to live away from her parents.
...the support of the Babysitters Club. visit the real world.

Corn Porn

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This is what is important.

How could I live my life thus far without truly, madly, deeply loving corn?

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Beyond the net

Last night I made the acquaintance of someone who quite proudly proclaimed that he did not, would not, use the Internet at home. The underlying implication seemed to be that nothing of value was out there, and I realized: there is a whole universe of people out there I haven't given much thought to - much as in the library world we forget the non-users of the library, although we must try to serve them, there are those who are non-users of the Internet. The thought was both intriguing and ghastly at the same time.

Baby blues

Some enterprising mother blue jay thought it was about time to push the fledglings out of the nest today, right beside my balcony. It was stinking hot today, by the way, and I chose to spend the hottest part of it stripping stain off a piece of furniture out there on said balcony. I didn't see the actual plummet, but all of a sudden noticed wriggling in the grass where no wriggling had been before. There they were, one squawking its head off (as much as a baby bird can squawk) and the other merely wriggling with its head under its wing.

I shooed the lounging Little Girl inside in hopes that the parents would see the coast was clear and come do something. I'm not sure what I thought that would be. They can't very well lift them back to the nest, can they?

All the while I was giving myself instructions not to get involved, not to think about if there was an empty shoebox somewhere, and if I had the number for the wildlife center at the parks department. I've been involved in rescues since I've moved here, mainly stray cats: I took in a sick kitten with a broken leg, only to have it die the next day, and another time dropped everything and rounded up the young kittens of a stray mom cat and took them to the shelter (mom would have gone too, at least to get fixed, but she eluded me).

Well, about the time ol' Harry spotted the nice, fat, helpless baby bird still squawking occasionally, the other one raised its head from its wing and flopped over dead.

I looked up baby bird care online. Here is a cumulation of what I found: touching them and even handling them isn't deadly to the bird; most birds don't have a good sense of smell, so the idea that people-smell will contaminate them is wrong. You should try to return the bird to its nest. (Around here the branches are a good 15 feet off the ground, so that won't be happening.) If the bird is not obviously injured (broken wing/leg), leave it alone. The parents are looking for it, probably waiting till the coast is clear (A pair of adult blue jays were on my feeder all afternoon, periodically swooping down to where the babies were, I hope to feed them).

I took away the dead bird and disposed of it. The other baby had managed to hop some distance away from where they'd been before, so I think it's going to be fine where it is. In a matter of days it should be able to get away to safety on its own. Harry and Little Girl, on the other hand, are on house arrest till then.