This neighborhood is for the birds...

We have a bird problem.  Specifically, a territorial robin. 

I'm sure the neighbors think I'm relatively unstable since I've shouted into the backyard "Eff you!  You don't pay rent!  This is MY house!" on more than one occasion. 

It started a few years ago.  We noticed a birds nest on the back patio porch light, immediately adjacent to the back door and next to the grill.  I'm sure the bird thinks she's quite genius, securing a primo nest location that's covered by a bit of roof and kept warm by a 60W light bulb that is on intermittently.

We've attempted to set blocks on wood on top of the light, to ward off the birds.  They just build on top of the blocks.  We tried setting one block at an angle on top of the other block.  They knocked down the angled block and built the nest anyway.  We tried moving the nest, but guilt made us put it back.

This year, either Momma bird is more territorial or I've noticed it more now that I have a garden.  My garden is conveniently located 3 feet away from the area in question.  We knew there were eggs in the nest, as we tried to grill out a few weeks ago and were subsequently squawked at and dive-bombed by Momma bird.  Since then, we have more or less left her alone.  As much as I hate this bird, I can't hate babies who didn't ask to be born into this feud between Momma bird and me.  I took the long way around the house to water the garden.  I pulled weeds while Jon was mowing, safety in numbers...and noise. 

But when we returned Monday evening from a 3 day camping trip, the situation escalated.  Momma bird was dive bombing us with a noticeable malice, squawking the whole time.  Like everyone else this winter, she must've been getting busy because there were no less than 4 tiny, baby robins peeking out of the nest.  Crap.  I could have dealt with it, had I not seen her feeding her babies that evening.  The feels overcame me.  I resigned to giving up my backyard until these babies had flown the nest.  I even did some research on robins (I learned they were indeed robins) and found out the babies take an extra few days on the ground before they fly away.

Last night, tragedy struck.  I came home to discover that the nest, block of wood and all, had tumbled 6 feet from the light and onto the concrete patio.  It was a grizzly sight, which made me feel sad and nauseous.  I didn't want them to die, I just wanted them to let me tend to my yard without being attacked.  Jon came home shortly thereafter and we were discussing what to do with the nest.  Momma bird was surprisingly still and quiet as we assessed the scene.  Then one of the tiny, baby robins moved.  Out of four, one of them survived the crash and was pinned beneath the nest and block of wood.  It would be heartless to ignore it, so Jon put some gloves on and used a spade to put the block of wood inside a plastic crate, place the nest back on top of it (as it had been on the light) and gently move baby into the nest.  The others we placed in a planter nearby...the reasoning was that I thought Momma bird might think we stole the others or need to mourn a little longer.  I don't know, it felt cruel to just toss them in the trash.

The baby bird (who I accidentally named Herbert and from here on, I shall refer to him as such) chirped a few times to let Momma bird know he was okay.  Momma bird immediately began chirping back and dive bombing us away.  So we went back inside and took a bike ride to get dinner.  I checked on them again when we returned and Momma bird was perched nearby, observing the situation with caution. 

This morning when I checked on the nest, Momma bird was nestled in keeping Herbert warm.  She squawked and put up a bit of a fuss when she noticed me watching from the window, but she never went far.  Later I watched as Papa bird fed a worm to Herbert, then Momma came back and nestled into the nest again before I finally left for work.  Oh and I really wanted to do something for the bird family...so I tossed a few raisins out onto the patio quickly before they could fly into the house and peck my eyes out. 

I just want to state for the record, I DIDN'T KNOCK THE NEST DOWN.  I wasn't even there and I'm pretty sure it was probably one of you not understanding how physics works.  Please stop attacking me, I don't hate you quite as much as I did before and rest assured I will do my best to make sure little Herbert survives into birdhood.  However, I warn you that once that day comes - you will be evicted.  Chicken wire, blocks of wood with nails coming out, pepper spray, whatever it takes. 

For now you have my sympathy, and a temporary truce.  But this IS my house, my garden, and my (okay, my husbands...) grill and I WILL NOT be terrorized by a cocky, jerkoff robin. 

"The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth and upon every bird of the heaven," Genesis 9:2

Recharging Humanoid Batteries

Photo Credit Will Arnold (what a swell guy)

This past weekend we went camping at Hocking Hills with some friends.  It's a 6 hour drive but a million percent worth it.  This state park is quite possibly the most beautiful place I've ever personally been to.  It's at least in the top 5.

We spent 2 full days and 3 glorious nights in the company of our fabulous friends hiking, exploring, cooking with fire, swimming, playing, singing (not so much me...but I enjoyed listening!), and generally ignoring technology and electronics.  It was AMAZING.  I had my phone with me, but only to take pictures.  I was not once tempted to check facebook or text.  I did not realize how badly I needed to disconnect until after I did it.  It was liberating.

Our friends three daughters were an absolute joy to be around.  They're energetic, imaginative, polite, creative, intelligent, I could go on and on.  We really enjoy spending time with them, and were super happy to spend a weekend with them exploring and adventuring.  We even started the "Adventure Scouts."  More adventure, less drama, no scout left behind.

I returned to work yesterday actually refreshed.  I had a great weekend and I was NOT ready for it to end.  I wish I was back there right now.  But instead of being sad that it's over, I'm happy that it happened.  And I'm inspired to make sure it happens again.  We're making plans to take other hiking and camping trips this summer. 

There's just one thing I can't wrap my brain around.  On Saturday I hiked 9 miles, and I was ready to go for more.  Sunday my legs ached, I hiked another 5 or 6 miles and still could have kept going.  Yesterday I sat at a desk for 8 hours and was absolutely exhausted.  I suppose it has something to do with being adventurous.  My job is not so adventurous.  I do enjoy it, but it's not exploring caves and waterfalls.

"Life is pure adventure, and the sooner we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat life as art." - Maya Angelou 

6 Merry Months of Monogomous Marriage for the Marvelous Meilike's

I like alliteration.

Jon and I have officially been married for 6 months today.  I know 6 months might not seem like a big deal (especially if you're on the other side of a year+) but I enjoy recognizing milestones.  It makes the everyday less mundane if I can find something to celebrate.  A lot can happen in 6 months!  For example, we have now been married longer than the following celebrity couples:

Dennis Rodman and Carmen Electra
Britney Spears and some guy she grew up with
Drew Barrymore and Tom Green
Pam Anderson and Kid Rock

Not to mention we have been married for longer than the Kosovo War and the Second Balkan War lasted (5 months and 3 months respectively.)  AND we have been married longer than William Henry Harrison was president!

 

I'll admit, our first half a year has not been terribly exciting.  We celebrated Christmas at home, mourned the loss of my grandma, grumbled about the winter, took a trip to Schaumburg, grumbled about driving in cities, did A LOT of laundry.  Time seems to be moving a little faster now that we are no longer under the icy grip of the polar vortex.  We're getting outside more, working in the garden, trying to keep the lawn alive, evening bike rides. 

But after spending a year planning a wedding, I think we deserve a little bit of mundane-ness.  We've enjoyed ourselves, and we're figuring out what marriage is supposed to look like.  We fight less, are slower to get upset, eat dinner together at the table almost every night, talk about the future.  We're excited for the summer and for warm weather adventures.  Most importantly, we're excited about our life together. 

I'm not really good with big, flowery shows of affection...so I'll just say that I love my husband a whole lot and that I am eternally grateful that God and the cosmos saw fit to unite us, our lives and our families.

"The grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for." 
-attributed to Alexander Chalmers, George Washington Burnap, and Joseph Addison separately...I can't find a reliable source to tell me where it originated.

Catfish vs. TalHotBlond

I've been on a documentary kick lately.  Big time.  Space, history, social constructs, if it's well done, I'll watch it.  Just today, as I'm lying in bed warding off the general yuckiness I've contracted, I watched "Talhotblond."

Now to fully explain my train of thought I need to back up a few years.  When Jon and I were first dating, we caught (what we thought was) an indie horror film at the local Art Theatre.  I had been a big fan of Blair Witch Project as a teenager, at least until I figured out exactly how fake it all was.  I was still intrigued by the premise of a documentary gone wrong, even if it was fake.  I was hoping "Catfish" would be more of the same.  This was probably late 2010.  So we go in, sit down and watch.  "Catfish" takes us on a journey documenting the online relationship between two people who have never met in person.  They eventually decide to meet and things start to get weird.  (This is where Jon and I were hoping a chainsaw wielding psychopath would appear.)  What we find out is that Nev (the narrator) believed he had been talking to a young woman named Megan, when in fact she didn't exist.  Or at least not in the way he thought she did.  "Megan" was a fictionalized personality that another, middle-aged, heavy-set woman had created, seemingly out of boredom.  One of several personalities she had constructed as an escape from her unfulfilling life.  It's an interesting story, but the film has been questioned to it's authenticity...even by Jon and myself as we left the theatre.

Fast forward back to today, when I decided to watch a similar documentary called "Talhotblond"  Which is extremely similar, except that both parties are not who they claim to be and a young man (who is the only honest one amongst the threesome) gets caught up in the middle.  It does not end well for him.  This film...was released in 2009.  Catfish was released merely a year later, in 2010.

Seriously people, all you have to do is watch "Talhotblond" to realize that "Catfish" is about as authentic as the Blair Witch Project.  But far less interesting.  If they were going to copy it, they should've kept more of the original story (that ACTUALLY HAPPENED) because it's far more interesting.

This felt like a big realization for me, so I wanted to share it.  I'll gladly elaborate when I'm feeling back up to speed (came home sick from work today.).  For now, I think it's nap time.

Whoever walks in integrity walks securely, but he who makes his ways crooked will be found out.  Proverbs 10:9

Forget Perfection

 

This popped up on my facebook feed this morning, and I feel that it's exactly what I need to hear right now.  I already miss out on singing because I don't think I'm very good at it.  As a result, I don't sing where anyone will hear me because I know that I'll get the words wrong or falter if I don't know them and because I will surely hit wrong notes.  Ironically, one of my favorite songs is about doing it anyway.  "If you want to sing out, sing out," croons Maude in her imperfect, lovable, off-key voice, "if you want to be free, be free."  

This song keeps coming back to me lately.  I've been struggling with routine.  On the one hand, I work very well in a routine.  I know how long it takes to get ready in the morning, how long it takes to make breakfast and dinner and therefore how long I get to relax and watch Netflix before I need to go to sleep.  I get groceries first thing Saturday morning, because the shelves are stocked but the crowds aren't in full force until after 10am.  On the other hand, it's become so routine that some days it feels more like a rut. 

Part of me wants to break away and do something spontaneous.  While the other part of me says, "No, because then you'll end up staying up late and going to bed later, so you either won't get much sleep and be cranky the next day or you'll sleep too long in the morning and skip breakfast and be cranky the next day..."  or "Don't squander your precious vacation time on taking the afternoon off because it's nice outside and you want to go sit in the park!  You'll need it later on."  When did I become such an old codger?

But what about the weekends?  Yes, what about weekends.  They're just as much a part of the routine as a Tuesday.  Weekends used to mean staying up late, playing Nintendo, going outside, no plans, just doing whatever feels good.  Adult weekends mean laundry, dishes, tidying the house, laundry, yard work, GROCERIES, meal planning, laundry, and if we're lucky a short trip on the motorcycle or an evening with friends.  

So the question is, how do I address my restlessness without wreaking havoc on my efficiently planned routine?  Maybe I can't.  Maybe I need to accept that sometimes it's okay to buck the routine.  I'll bounce back, I always do.  Maybe I'm a little more tired for one day.  

It's strange to think of myself as a "habit-centric" person, but I very much am.  And I've been that way for most of my life, without realizing it.  I was the odd kid who put myself to bed when I was tired, and more often than not, would ask my parents to turn down the tv in the other room so I could sleep.  I always wanted to consider myself spontaneous, but I suppose spontaneity is easier when you have plenty of free time.  Is that an excuse?  I'm not sure.  Is is possible to be spontaneous and still have a routine that works for you?  Maybe, I'll let you know if I ever figure it out.

How do you deal when life become mundane?

"Basic Bitch" ...but what does it mean?

Lately I've been coming across the term "basic" quite a bit and not in it's usual form.  Yes, you caught me, I read a lot of Buzzfeed articles.  "How basic is your baby?"  Well, babies in general pretty basic - they eat, poop and sleep.  Oh wait, basic means something else now? 

After some discussion with my trusted research assistants (my husband and a coworker who happens to be a librarian) and a bit of research on the interwebs I've reached a hypothesis.

Basic
adjective
1 (new) Excessively stereotypical behavior, usually closely involved with popular culture.  One who is basic tends to like what is popular because it is popular without giving any real thought to the subject matter.

Some examples being thrown about are: "basic bitches" like Sex and the City (a lot), seasonal lattes (Pumpkin Spice, uh...I don't even know what other seasonal lattes exist...), Drake, Uggs, etc.  In other words, things that are intensely popular among young women.  They tend to follow fashion trends very closely and quote "inspirational" quotes without giving a second thought about whether or not it is accurately attributed.  For example, they are fond of Marilyn Monroe quotes...even if those quotes didn't actually come from Marilyn Monroe.  They are unaware of this fact because if it's on the internet, it has to be true, right?  I think Abe Lincoln said that.

The closest approximation I can make is that it is similar to calling someone a "poser" when I was in school.  A poser was basically someone who was faking it.  An example my husband gave was, "a person who wears skater clothes, but doesn't skate."  Or it could also be someone who dresses like a jock, but doesn't play sports.  Now that we're adults, I ask you - how ridiculous does that sound?

As far as I can tell, this is the same basic principle (pun intended).  It's a way to call somebody out for doing what society has told them to do.  A lemming, if you will.  (Sidenote - Lemmings are small rodents that will sometimes migrate en masse, thus being used as an analogy for following the popular crowd.)

The upswing to this is that we are finally recognizing originality and creativity.  It's "cool" to march to the beat of your own drum.  Being intelligent, creative and good with computers are seen as positive traits.  "Nerdy" is no longer an insult, but a badge of honor worn proudly. 

The downside is that this kind of labeling still promotes a pecking order.  "I'm better than you because I don't blindly follow fads."  "You're not cool because you just do what mass marketing tells you to do."  It may seem superficial, but the underlying implication is that these people (labeled basic) are weak-minded and unable or unwilling to think for themselves. 

Our society seems to love labels.  How many quizzes have you seen that brand you?  Label you as one thing versus another?  Personally, I have never liked labels.  I don't want to be tied down to one stereotype.  I want to be free to try new things and not be ridiculed for doing so.  We need to stop being concerned with what others are doing with their lives and focus our energy on what's going on in our own lives.  Let's focus on the positives.  Let's focus on making our own lives better.  And if we must talk about others, let's build them up rather than tear them down. 


"Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear."  Ephesians 4:29