So here are our adorable baby chicks. I got three different kinds so we would have no trouble telling them apart. Their names are: Vera (the smallest, stripey one), Gloria (the big black one), and RePeckah (the red one). Already we are learning about their personalities. Vera is lowest in the pecking order, not surprisingly. Repecka is bossy and always wins in a tussle over food. She also likes to roost on top of the water bottle, which the others don't seem able to do yet. Gloria is louder than the others and complains more when you pick her up. They are all very cute and funny. Grayson adores them. Bob thinks I'm insane but seems to have resigned himself to my insanity. My folks are on board only because they know how excited Grayson is about the chicks. The dogs are profoundly curious, but until the birds are bigger and less fragile, they will not be introduced.
For now the chicks are living in a laundry hamper in our "odd room" – that's the funny not-quite-hallway-not-quite-closet that was created when previous owners removed a bedroom to open up the living room. In a few weeks, my dad and I will design and build a coop for them – one that is movable so I can move it to different locations around the lawn as needed.I've had loads of fun holding the chicks and watching them. Baby animals of any kind are hilarious, and these little birds have so much personality already. Repecka, as I've mentioned, always wins. I get a kick out of feeding them several mealworms and watching them chase each other around, trying to steal the others' worms while simultaneously protecting the worm each bird has in her beak. Their tiny tug-of-wars are most entertaining.
The damp spring weather seems to be causing all sorts of critter activity. One morning last week we were visited by several large black water roaches. One of them actually crawled on my neck as I was sitting on the floor at my computer in the early morning hours. I very nearly threw my laptop across the floor, trying to get away from it.
Kobi killed a mouse in the compost pile. From now on I guess I will reserve my kitchen scraps for the worm bin to keep from attracting rodents! The compost pile will be strictly for lawn waste. This morning a big kink-legged cave cricket appeared in the kitchen.
For two mornings in a row now I've watched the trials of a little black wolf spider that has taken up residence in the rim around the heater on my bathroom ceiling. Both mornings I turned on the heater for my shower and stepped out afterward to find the spider dangling from the heater's rim two feet from the ceiling. His quarters, it seems, get a bit too hot for him. A few minutes after I have turned off the heater, he travels back up his line to the heater's rim. I warn him, but he doesn't listen. He climbs up on the rim, then he does a little hot-foot spider dance and down he drops again. He does this a couple of times before he will eventually lower himself to the floor. By then I'm wrapping up my morning routine, so I'm not sure what he does after that. I was surprised to see him dangling there again this morning. I was sure he would pull up stakes after the first burn-out, but he's dogged.
It makes me wonder what situations I may be holding onto that are untenable. My job or relationships? My routines? My beliefs or my understanding of my own place in the world? My future? What heater am I dangling from, waiting for things to cool off so I can climb back in and do it all over again? In the spider's case, I have important information he doesn't have. I know, for dead certain, that the heater will come on again... maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, but I know he's in for it. He doesn't know that... he has to make decisions on the fly. Where's the dividing line between hope and hopeless? How do we recognize it and how long do we wait? I wish I knew when someone was going to turn my heater back on.
For now I guess I just keep climbing back up my thread, testing the surface to see how hot it is.
Meanwhile, I have lettuce growing, as well as radishes and spinach. The peas are up. The weather has been so unpredictable that none of them have really taken off yet. It's so tempting to run out to the garden store and buy seedlings... but I tell myself to wait... wait.... let the nights warm up and get your tomatoes and peppers off to a good start.
In the past week, Norman has popped into full color. This redbud tree in front of the museum tells the tale. Look at that sky! THAT's Oklahoma. The trees in bud have all popped out in fuzzy green. Lawns are greening up everywhere (mine is mostly weeds, but after a winter as long and cold as this one has been, I'm glad to see anything green).On the work front, my assistant, Krysten, turned in her resignation today. She is moving on to a job at the OU Press. It was time. I was lucky to have kept her as long as I did. There's plenty of work for two people here, but not plenty of particularly creative, engaging work. There's not a lot of decision-making to go around. So it was time for her to go on and do something else, where she can have more control. Now the jury is out as to whether or not I will get a full-time assistant to replace her. We're at the end of the budget year, and it's well known that cuts, and possibly deep ones, are a sure thing. I feel relatively confident that we have proven the need for a full time assistant, but right now need may not be enough. We'll see. Regardless, in two weeks, I'll be juggling cats again like the old days. It will probably be good for me. I've been in a bit of a rut.
Last night I watched a wonderful documentary on the life of Buddha, and his final words come to mind: As he lay dying, surrounded by his disciples, he said, "Behold, O monks, this is my last advice to you. All component things in the world are changeable. They are not lasting. Work hard to gain your own salvation. Do your best."
