I believe these to be Starlings in Autumn attire, taken early this morning and very far away, thus the bad image.
I was only compelled to photograph them because of their strange basket of sounds. Not a chirp or trill, but more like someone whistling low to themselves. Eerie.

Ego – where I and my are found cavorting.
Went to get a haircut last week, which always results in feelings of inadequacy as well as a bit of self-flagellation. Feeling like Mrs. Shrek is one thing, but breaking out in guilt because I care is another. The bright fluorescent lighting and perfectly made up young girls do not help one little bit. I don’t resent often, but when I do it’s at the salon. It’s a fleeting thing, but a vice nonetheless.
Youngest is famous for saying ‘Expectations are just resentments waiting to happen’ but I don’t consciously believe my face should be wrinkle-free at 54 or even have more hair after menopause. It’s a struggle sometimes. I list my blessings, which are so many they don’t fit on all my fingers and toes, and be grateful for what I have… but just when acceptance and gratitude seem a way of life, it’s time for another haircut.
Though I’ve nothing to be vain about, that particular sin has plagued me since self-awareness. When young I aspired to marry Jesus and become a Nun, in the surreptitious way a young Baptist would, of course. Sure that they could overcome any sin humanity had to offer by giving their lives to others through God, it seemed a wonderful way to live. Not glamorous, not at all. Just… without sin. Peaceful. I didn’t want to care what others thought of me and still don’t… but now I know better than to think Nuns have an easy, sinless existence. Everyone tries, everyone stumbles. Everyone suffers.
Besides, I’m too lazy to be a Nun.
Channeling Doris Jean.
This was my second appointment at the salon with Miss T and I was glad, for she seems a lighthearted soul. Late 20′s, single, living with roommates… I gave in to baser tendencies and envied her my youthful memories for the blink of an eye.
We talked, laughed and I started feeling like myself again. That’s when I realized that -perhaps for the first time- I’d actually been feeling my age. What a horrible thought.
Found myself dispensing advice similar to my old friend Doris, with whom I worked from 1979 through 1990. Doris Jean was older than the rest of us, and acted as sort of a mother figure to the girls in the department. She’d elicit our stories of late nights, wild parties, dancing til dawn and then encourage us to go right out and do it again. ‘Make memories now, while you’re young, so when you’re old like me you’ll have something to remember’.
Sage advice and I repeated basically the same thing to Miss T. Some things really do come full circle.
Crazy plumeria.

Low Fat Bites.
Another confession: I ate butter this morning. After craving the salty-sweet creaminess of the real thing for over a month, I was surprised that the sensation was a little greasy. An unpleasant discovery, yet it will be of some help in the future whenever I get a yen for the magic of Land-O-Lakes.
Yesterday I clearly smelled pizza and of course there was none in the house. I really miss pizza. Today it was Chinese food, which I’ve cut down on because some of my favorites are fried. The stuff they advertise as being ‘healthy’ and ‘low fat’ tastes like ass. Sorry. But really, I smelled Chinese. Like stroke toast, not there at all.
Plated and Served
The ducks are gone, every last one. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Howard, Louie and Dewey. As a matter of fact, in a neighborhood previously abundant in waterfowl, as we have networks of canals, things are sure quiet. The duck population has dropped consistent with the jobless rate… leading me to some unpleasant conclusions. But as I told Mike, if someone was hungry enough to eat those babies, they have my blessings.
I want to think I won’t be fattening up any more for meals… but they’re so damned cute. Maybe I just won’t name them…
April 15, 2012
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