A horrible post

I should probably make a nice long blog about this, but I just can't,

Forgive me, the period-key on my laptop has been broken off by Roxy stepping on it and so I will have to substitute another mark for a period* How about an asterisk?

So last Wednesday Roxy, who had been lying in front of the door where the chicks were living, got in* She killed Gloria* I found her and spent some half an hour looking for the other two* Finally found Repecka under my bed and Vera behind a trash can in the bathroom, unscathed*

Thursday afternoon we buried Gloria in the back yard with many tears* Within half an hour, Roxy had burst in to the room again and killed the other two* It was so sad I can't even give a full account except that Grayson found them and when he realized what had happened, I'll never forget the way he cried, saying "I want them back! I want them back!"

Horrible* Just horrible* I buried them near Gloria, but not before Roxy had gone back, grabbed one of their towel-wrapped little bodies off the table, and chewed its head off* Thank god, Grayson didn't see or know* He was lying on the sofa just a few feet away, sobbing into a pillow*

Then today, I took Mambo out into the yard for some sun* I put him inside a ring of wire fencing on the grass and set him on a log* I worked near him for a few minutes, then I went over to the garden and planted a single plant* When I went back to check on him, he was gone* Vanished* I couldn't have been away 10 minutes* I spent four hours looking for him, turning over every plant and feeling under every bush and bunch of grass* I completely tossed over a big woodpile by the shed* He's nowhere to be found* Either he's really hunkered down somewhere or he's dead* Taken by a hawk, perhaps* I just can't believe it*

Grayson has been with his dad and Gray's mom all afternoon* He know Mambo is missing, and doesn't seem hysterical* I think he's been able to convince himself that Mambo is "free," out having adventures somewhere, and of course I'll help to perpetuate that* But Mambo is either dead or in peril, and there's nothing I can do*

I don't know how I could be so wrong about things, how I can keep making choices that will cause me and my boy terrible pain* Sometimes it seems like I can't do anything right, that I'm always making poor choices, getting us into things we can't handle, screwing things up*

Grayson is such a sweet and good natured kid* God, I just want to make his life a happy one, filled with good experiences, but it seems like everything I touch dies*

Chicks

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."

Easter Schmeaster

I think I figured out why Flower is so traumatized by the electric fence. Yesterday I went out and did a little investigation. The wire across the gate has been pulled, there's clearly some slack in it now that wasn't there when I put it up, and the control box has been moved. Looks to me like poor Flower got her head between the wire and the fence and panicked when it shocked her, pulling the wire. Poor old thing. She's still completely terrified. Yesterday morning she peed in the floor in my room rather than go outside. Let me tell you, a 70 pound labrador can pee a LOT. Ohhh, she went outside after that, I assure you. But even with me scolding her, hauling her out by the collar, she was doing everything she could to weasel away.

Maybe this weekend I'll unplug the fence and see if it has done its work as regards Kobi. Then I can start gently trying to get Flower back to normal. She came out into the yard with me for a minute or two yesterday at lunch, but then clearly realized where she was, tucked her tail and made a bee-line for the garage. Man, I feel terrible about that.

And all just when the weather has turned and it's beautiful outside, too. The change in weather has been fantastic. Nearly 90 degrees yesterday. You'd think I would have ceased being surprised by Oklahoma weather by now. And yet, it still comes up with something new every year. Blizzard on Christmas eve, Snow on the first day of Spring... I remember one year the mercury tipping toward 90 in January. Astonishing that it even continues to be a topic for conversation, after all that. But here it is in the 80s and though I'm grateful, but it makes me wonder what the summer will bring.

In the meantime, there's Easter. My least favorite "holiday." Not being Christian, it's difficult for me to give up a perfectly good Sunday afternoon in spring to observe a great old pagan festival in completely the wrong way. Sorry... it's not that I don't enjoy spending time with extended family. There's just something about it. Maybe just that I would always rather be out working in the garden than giving thanks to someone for dying... thereby somehow absolving me of... what, exactly? Really, spring IS about resurrection. I get it. The earth resurrects and renews itself endlessly. Life prevails. I prefer to celebrate that by getting my hands dirty. That's all.

It is, however, a great excuse to buy stuff for my son. There will be the usual chocolates and candies, of course. The Easter Bunny never lets him down. But what will be the One Cool Thing this year? I'm thinking.... chickens.

No seriously, chickens. I've been thinking about getting some, and Grayson would love to raise some chicks. Norman city regulations don't prohibit it, so.... Think about it, fresh eggs, natural pest control, and fantastic garden fertilizer, all in one plump, feathery package. Or three plump feathery packages, actually. I think three hens would be perfect. That way if something happens to one of them, the others still have a companion.

I need to make a decision soon. Sunday is Easter, of course. Grayson will be with his dad that morning, but I'll pick him up on the way to the family luncheon. The chicks could be a surprise for when he gets home.

I know... I have a terrible weakness for animals. Maybe I just want someone to love. Not that I don't have plenty of opportunities to love, with my boy and my three kooky dogs and one spoiled lizard that will only eat from my hands. Seems I have room for some more. In my heart, at least, if not in my pocket book or my home. Chickens don't take up much room though, really....