Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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Losing Daphne

   This past week we suffered a terrible loss at the farm. 
My beautiful black mare, Daphne, displayed some horrible signs of colic and did not survive. 
Our close friends and family already know about this and have mourned with us, 
for which we are deeply grateful. I am sharing the story here now 
because it’s an important part of our farm history. 
It may also be helpful to some other horse family down the line.


This photo was taken in 2007, the very day Daphne came to live at the Lazy W.
This is Handsome leading her, surrounded by Jocelyn, Jessica, and our nephew Dante.
This is the view looking downhill, westward. I love the wildness of the farm here.

   In a few days I plan to post about our sweetest and funniest memories 
with this very special horse, and I hope that those of you who knew her 
will take a few minutes to contribute. 
Our plan is to print the whole thing as a family keepsake
and possibly print it for my daughters. Thanks friends!

********************

   On last Tuesday afternoon I arrived home around 4:20 and found Daphne running and playing energetically in the front field. She was jumping high like some kind of a bronco rodeo horse and raced me from the front gate all the way up to the barn. This is the normal “happy Daphne” dance. I searched my car and purse for castoff Sonic peppermints to reward her but found none. This would end up bothering me all week long.

   She stopped running and looked happy. Ears pricked up, snorting, bright eyes, flippy. I did a quick headcount of the animals, parked my car in the garage, and went in to change clothes. The weather that day was even more characteristically Oklahoman than normal. We had heavy rain at the farm, including lots of thunder. We saw temperatures fluctuate about forty degrees, and it was very windy.

First Signs of Trouble

   After about twenty minutes indoors, I went back outside in jeans, boots, and a quilted vest and distributed grain and hay to all the big animals. Upon again reaching the front field, Daphne was down. She wasn’t just wallowing in the hilly sand, which both the buffalo and horses are wont to do; she was obviously in pain. I was immediately worried. She made a sort of pleading eye contact with me and strained her neck up. I called Handsome on my cell phone, grabbed a lead rope from the barn, and jogged to clear the cattle gate and reach her. She was beneath that big, blue spruce tree the kids call the “Elevator Tree” because of its low, flexible branches that are so perfect for lowering yourself to the ground. Thankfully Chunk-hi was happily distracted by his afternoon meal and only watched us. He’s playful, not aggressive at all, but still powerful. And I couldn’t stay safe with him and focus on her needs at the same time.

   At first, with only a little urging, my sweet girl was able to rouse to her feet and walk with me in large, gentle circles. We did this for about half an hour without stopping, cuddling the whole time and breathing pretty calmly, all the while trying to get help on the phone. Colic is serious, often deadly, but I had seen Daphne pull out of it once before and felt confident that with quick attention she would be okay. Handsome was meanwhile racing home from work.

   Soon, though, Daphne’s strong legs collapsed beneath her and even being quite rough I was unable to pull her back to her feet. The best I could do was keep her mostly still so she wouldn’t flip. She rocked on her side a little and accepted kisses and singing, petting and touching. I tried to listen for bubbles (signs of moving digestion) in the exposed side of her round stomach but heard only her pounding heartbeat. I felt no hot spots anywhere on her beautiful fuzzy body.

Daphne’s Condition Worsens

   She was calm, very calm, and while I tried to reach a vet on the phone I thought for a moment she was dying. I was grateful for the sound of her groaning only because it meant she was still fighting. The seriousness of the situation was descending on me and I suddenly had trouble breathing myself. I couldn’t believe how quickly her condition had changed. A frantic and tearful phone call to my friend Shawndra, with her equine expertise and calm sense of urgency, is exactly what I needed. She told me what to do while waiting and said she would try to help.

   Sooner than must have been safe for him to drive the interstate, my husband raced up the gravel driveway, threw his car into park, and disappeared inside the house. He emerged less than a minute later in work clothes and flew over the gate. His presence in the front field drew the attention of our little buffalo, so immediately my attention was divided. Until then, Chunk-hi had only watched us.  

Chunk-hi’s Vigil

   During one of my husband’s cold but sweaty efforts to rouse Daphne, something incredible happened which I will never forget. As I stood against a young oak tree juggling phone calls with Shawndra and three vets’ offices (we were now in the slender space of time between office hours and emergency response times) Chunk-hi meandered over to our worried gathering. Constantly in my view, he lowered his behemoth head and started towards Daphne’s tail end. I feared some rough playfulness but was amazed by what he actually did.

   Chunk stroked his massive bearded chin in long, slow motions against Daphne’s body. He traced every leg, sniffed her tail, kissed her neck with that long purple tongue, and paced delicately around her prone and weakening body for several minutes. Handsome and I both noticed this incredible behavior.

   We  witnessed what could have been the precursor to a goring, or at least a good head butt, turn into a truly affectionate and comforting gesture. From my position about four feet away I could see his big liquid black eyes watch everything we did. I could hear his amplified breath, investigating the scene, cataloging details. Daphne had always held a maternal veil over this little orphaned addition to our farm, and I have no doubt he felt her pain. In retrospect, we believe he was also saying goodbye.

   After a ten or fifteen minute vigil, Chunk-hi suddenly inhaled sharply and started bobbing and wagging his shaggy head in big, dramatic circles. Usually a sure sign of aggression in male buffalo, this had no such feeling. He flung his head around but stood perfectly still then just gazed at her. He looked at me calmly, but not blankly, and I was devastated to have no words for him. This was a buffalo sobbing and crying.
 
Relocating Her

   Handsome with his brute strength pulled and wrestled Daphne to her feet and convinced her to walk about twenty feet at a time, per everyone’s best advice. It became increasingly difficult  though, and foreseeing a long night ahead he very wisely guided her toward the gate so we could work with her nearer the house, isolated and in some light.

   Our little orphaned buff ran ahead of us to the gate, turned back, circled us, and ran the space between us and our destination a few times before Daphne could make it. Both of these animals in our care seemed to understand the plan, and thankfully they both cooperated. I quickly unlatched the gate so Handsome and Daphne could slip through, then locked it again just as Chunk gave it a gentle push. I scruffed his black-brown  face a little before walking away. Gave thanks for his gentleness.

Long, Difficult Evening & Help From Dear Friends

   The next few hours were spent on a series of efforts to keep Daphne moving, comfort her, prevent her wildly strong legs from kicking anyone in the head, and make excruciating decisions. We took turns leading her, walking her, propping her up, and stroking her warm muscular body. I traded texts and phone messages with vets until we found one who could visit our farm that night, and pretty quickly.

   Our good friends Larry and Shawndra stopped everything in their family’s evening to drive thirty minutes to our farm. They arrived during the first truly dark hour of the evening and helped administer an IV drug (banamine) to fight inflammation and ease Daphne’s pain. This drug, coupled with drinking water and walking, was what had worked a few years ago. At this point I was concerned but still convinced that Daphne would make a good recovery, even if it wasn’t as quick and pretty as the first time. Unfortunately, after receiving the banamine, Daphne seized up. Violently. It was probably from the intense pain, and it broke my heart.

   This big, life-giving mare with the black coat and leopard spots that only shine in the sun, this creature who has thrived in extreme heat and frigid ice storms, who has gifted us with two beautiful, healthy, spirited foals, was suffering more than I have ever seen an animal suffer before. Out of seemingly nowhere she was crumbling under the pain of colic, and we were rapidly running out of ways to help her.

   After a little while the banamine must have relaxed her, because we were all able to safely sit on the ground.  Daphne’s breathing slowed to a heavy, throaty, meditative beat. One long, deep draw of breath, another short one, and a peaceful release through her lips. Then in again- long, short, then out again… Over and over for about twenty minutes, until the vet arrived.

   We also have Shawndra to thank for helping to expedite contact with the equine vet who helped us that night.

   After the sun failed us, the air did too. The farm grew inky black, leaving us barely illuminated under the pool of light by the car shop, and the wet air went from cool to cold. Someone tried to soothe Daphne with a horse blanket, but it bothered her. We all stood or squatted around her, shivering and talking through the many possibilities. I remember Larry kept telling stories about otherwise healthy horses who were struck with colic and died suddenly. I felt so sorry for them but still had no grip on the possibility that it could happen to us.

   The men fought to keep Daphne still, though she would sporadically pivot her body and kick against the pain. More than a few times everyone was sent flying, stumbling back into the dark. Then back again. It’s truly amazing that no one was seriously injured.
 

Dr. Grace Arrives

   When the vet’s SUV trained its headlights on our front gate, my spirits lifted. She drove up the driveway, around the corner by the chicken coop, and straight to our sad little huddle. Shawndra and I met her at her car door. We traded names only (hers is Dr. Grace), then it was all business. She collected the important facts and absolutely understood and relayed that Daphne’s limited response to the banamine was serious.  My comforted feeling didn’t last long, only because it was replaced with this urgency, this raw awareness that perhaps even the vet couldn’t help her. At least not in the way I wanted.

   Dr. Grace administered a sedative to Daphne so she could safely examine her patient. Handsome and Larry did an amazing job keeping this big horse propped up, and Shawndra and I watched and held flashlights, desperate to help. Within a few minutes Dr. Grace began to relay grim news, saying that Daphne’s blockage was in the worst possible location. This, coupled with the level of her pain and shock, meant that she was an unlikely candidate for surgery. Dr. Grace efficiently but softly suggested we consider helping take Daphne out of her pain. This hit me like an anvil in the chest.

   Dr. Grace spoke to us as she worked, explaining more about colic and about the cases she had seen that week. She assured us there was nothing else we could have done, that even if she herself had been there at the very first moment the outcome would be no better. She urged us to think about the life we had given Daphne and about how much we love her.

   We knew that weather patterns had a lot to do with colic in horses, but we didn’t know the statistics. Apparently it’s quite common, so common that we feel fortune to have only dealt with it twice in the six years we’ve loved all of these beautiful animals. Oklahoma’s weather was highly unstable last week. Sadly, our vet call was the eighth one this smart young woman had answered over those couple of days, and she had to euthanize all of those horses. Unbelievable. Heartbreaking. It’s not contagious, like a disease, but it felt flatly epidemic. That weather, something wholly uncontrollable, could trigger something so dangerous, was mind boggling. I gave thanks over and over again that our other two horses were healthy.

   Handsome held me for a few minutes and I nearly begged to try surgery anyway, wanted to do anything to save her, but it was clear I was wanting to not lose her, wanting to avoid my own pain, and in fact what she needed was to be out of pain. The mood then was tornadic. We flew through every possible emotion, and I showed very little personal restraint. Having believed all night that we would save this sweet girl, and having worked through so many changes in such a short period of time, I was completely shocked. I wanted to rewind to some other moment, before it started. Wished I was home all day, wished I was stronger or Daphne hadn’t given me a bronco rodeo show. Wished I had been praying harder lately so God would be quicker to hear this prayer. So self centered.

Saying Goodbye Suddenly

   When the moment arrived, Handsome gripped me hard and folded his broad, capable shoulders and arms over me as I poured myself over Daphne. Touching her face, every detail, kissing her sandy jaw a thousand feverish times, stroking her long curved ears, combing her black mane and forelock with my fingers. Trying to clean her eyelashes. Shawndra sat next to us, also holding and sheltering and soothing like a mother of a newborn. I could feel Dr. Grace working just inches away from us, at Daphne’s thick neck, swiftly finding the right needles and veins and everything she needed to perform this awful and necessary act of mercy.

   Daphne slipped away so silently. We held her elegant head and closed those glistening eyes.

    In the midst of everything our incredible friend Larry had the sensitivity and boldness to do one more thing for us. As Handsome said goodbye and tended to business with Dr. Grace, Larry found a pair of scissors and quietly removed Daphne’s long, magnificent tail. In life, her tail would often tip the ground, and she loved to be brushed and braided. After a little while, he approached Handsome and me and gave it to us. I yanked an elastic out my own hair and secured this heavy treasure, and Larry told us how to preserve it for the future.

Her Last Day at the Farm

   The next day we stayed home together, sleeping, crying, and processing reality. We protected Daphne’s body and blanketed her face while waiting for the burial service to arrive. Once during that day Handsome saw a large group of guineas circle her. They were chirping an alarm, so he went out to them. He lifted the blanket from her face so they could see, and they all walked in a line, one by one, past her. They did not return after that.

   Daphne’s pasture mates had been watching everything, too, since the day before. Chanta especially was attentive, as they were mated to each other for sure. True love. Even Romulus, who had been Daphne’s sometime nemesis, stood quietly at the fence and watched.

   We made the decision to have her professionally buried, and I am happy to give an endorsement to the folks who performed this service. They were gentle, respectful, even affectionate. If you are local to us and need contact information for either this or an excellent equine specialist, please let me know.
 

*************************

 More than this happened that night and the next day, I am sure. 
But so much blurred together too. And little memories keep popping up in my head. 
As with all storytelling, this is only my perspective.
Thank you for reading, and if you knew Daphne, thank you for loving her. 
Again, later this week I plan to post more about her life and really hope 
that our friends and family will contribute to the memory collection.
Please say a prayer for my girls. 
They had to hear this news over the phone and did not get to say goodbye like we did.
 

 
 
 

Beauty Everywhere

   This week has been equal parts hard work and sweet romance for us. My week days have been split between enjoying rare time with loved ones; caring for these silly animals and lazily monitoring the llama drama; substitute teaching at some local schools; and reading. Also I have had the chance to browse some cool and unusual shops lately, like this one…

   My work is busy, satisfying, and fun. Handsome is working harder than three men every single day, and I could not be prouder of him. If only Oklahoma knew how much effort and expertise goes into turning on our lights an heating our homes. Wow.

   In most ways the hours certainly pass too quickly. Particularly the sunlit ones. Around the Lazy W we are very excited for springtime!

   A few nights ago Handsome and I, fighting the contagious germs all around us, succumbed to a mutual craving for all things comforting and made nachos for dinner then gave ourselves a two-person slumber party in the downstairs Green Room. 
Side Note: 
Our Lazy W “Green Room”has nothing to do with staging for television shows.
It’s just where we watch television and play games. It’s like a den. 
Or, if you’re Heather in Canada, a “snug.”  
But it is green. I mean, the walls are green. Everything else is normal.
I mean, green is normal, but you know what I mean.
   Despite being certified grown ups, we slept on the Green Room floor between a thousand layers of blankets and surrounded by ten thousand different pillows  We might as well have made a sheet fort, really. Then very early the next morning we rose an hour and a half before the sun did and carried hot, perfect coffee outside. We soaked up a nearly silent Hot Tub Summit. The farm, seemingly the entire world, was asleep and ignoring our hushed exchange. Handsome and I braided together our hopes and plans. We talked about his career and my book club. We worried about our parents a little, though we know worry is a mistake. And we built up our defenses against the coming day.
   We have had time for a few projects lately, including this little diddy whereby we have immortalized our most beloved cities on a bunch of reclaimed wood…
   I’ll try to tell some of these stories eventually.

  When I relay our excitement for springtime, I mean it in every sense. I am chomping at the nest-feathering bit to get some extra pretty things accomplished around here!! From deep cleaning to sewing and from decorating to gardening, my project list is growing by the minute. Pinterest can’t even keep up.

   Here are a few things I’ve seen with my own two eyes lately, projects that are DAYS away from becoming part of our own home:

   I adore this eclectic plate display… Notice how it includes both fancy and plain castoffs. Just like the best parties.
   This mixed-up style of container gardening has me enraptured. I love the formal, clipped miniature tree surrounded by a collar of that free-form spilling flower, perhaps allysum. So pretty. Add white lights, and it’s elevated to gorgeous! 
   Also, this used book store which specializes (magically so) in COOKBOOKS has me ridiculously inspired to add even more sparkle and color to our nest. It also reminds me that collections can be out and on display. More white lights too!!
   There’s so much to do you guys. I crave to see things as beautifully as I feel them. Which is very. I intend to use these glorious little swells of time and energy to make stuff happen all around me.

   What about you? What are you reading? How are you spending your time? What projects do you have up your sleeve, and which ones do you barely dare dream about?

  
   Hope your weekend is grand! As I hit “publish” Handsome and I are aimed happily at meeting my dear ol’ Dad, little brother Phil, and Uncle Chris for dinner in the city. One of several fun, loving events we’ve enjoyed this weekend!

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
We must carry it with us or we find it not.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
xoxoxoxo

My Word for 2013: STRENGTH

   Happy New Year friends! Happy first Thursday of the fresh, clean, brand spanking  new set of months and moments! Happy cold, frosty morning (if you are in Oklahoma) and Happy Another Chance to Try Big Things and Chart New Territory. Do you feel the energy? Much more than caffeine, I feel it. I feel the pulsing, sparkling sense of possibility and hope all around me.

I’m a spring and summer person for sure, 
but this year is the farthest I have ever felt from a “winter of discontent.”
My heart is so full, my mind is so stimulated,
and my spirit is so encouraged… that where dormancy is evident,
I see only possibility, only life building up her wonderful stores.

   My personal resolutions are too many to count, and since last year I fell into the tantalizing habit of calling them reVolutions, they evolve anyway according to need and passion. So to mark the first of the year, and as an homage to the deep and communal love we all share for words, my word of the year is…

STRENGTH.

   Strength, in so many manifestations.

   Strength of body, because in two weeks I begin training in earnest for my first half marathon, which will happen in late April.

   Strength of spirit, as I flex repeatedly against that Worry Door and face new challenges and pains resolutely.

   Strength in finances, domestic pursuits, and daily goal tending. Strength to keep my promises. Strength to maximize the potential of our fabulous little book club.

   Strength to bend but not break… Strength to grow and bear fruit… Strength to admit my faults and overcome them. Strength to trust more fully, love more freely, and give of my true self (not my competitive, imagined self) more generously. Strength to hang on tight and let go gently, and strength to know when to do each.

   The possibilities for 2013 are endless!! I shudder almost to articulate them, though, because the year is so young I still have that waking sensation you get between dreaming and living when you can still enjoy the vision but dare not focus too hard on it, or it evaporates.

   Thank you to everyone who has been nibbling around this digital Lazy W this past year! I appreciate all of the comments, the emails, and funny, smart, touching interactions. Sometimes I cannot believe how many wonderful people I have met “here.” Thanks to those of you who have visited the dirt and hooves Lazy W this year too, and helped Handsome and me make so many fun memories. Our home is richer for the time spent with you. Also, thanks to those of you sharing your own wonderful stories. I treasure these connections so much.

   So, cheers to the close of a rich, wonderful year! And cheers to the startlingly gorgeous beginning of a new one! Love to you all.

“Only those who risk going too far
Can ever possibly find out how far one can go.”
~T.S. Elliott
xoxoxoxo 


Little Joys Like Sardines

   This week has been as busy and hard working as ever, but it has carried with it a sheen of pleasure that warrants a little attention. If life were always this joyful, this satisfying and easily understood, then I would quickly become an unbearable grinning idiot to my friends and family. Already, these past few days I have caught myself giggling aloud when no one is around to hear me. That’s how good life is.

   Last weekend after the Christmas parade we attended in Cow Town (What?? I haven’t posted that story yet? Oh gosh, that is how busy I have been!), Handsome and I brought home a gorgeous White Pine tree and have been decorating it piecemeal ever since. While last Christmas I used a wild Red Cedar from our forest and decorated the house plainly, organically, which was our mood at the time, this year I brought out only the bright colors and sparkling mesh and ribbons and tinsel, only the cheerful, jubilant stuff that matches our mood this year! I absolutely love it. It might stay up until July. Or until it’s time to start vegetable seedlings indoors and I need the real estate again.

   Daily, between normal chores and running in only two-mile increments, I have been knocking out long standing projects from my massive to-do list. This is such a relief, you know? I can literally breathe more easily.

   We have made connections with friends this week, old and new, silver and gold, spending little slivers of time with fun people and making memories. The animals are all fluffy and warm ahead of the upcoming cold snap. All is well. Now, one day this week Romulus did chase Daphne so hard that she tore down a fence to escape his wrath, making it all the way to the road before slowing her run, but our wonderful neighbors helped keep her still until I could get outside and bring her home.

   Whew! Naughty, naughty llama.
   Llama drama.
   Momma llama drama.

   The bees are on the road to recovery after an invasion by wax moths. What? I haven’t written in detail about that either? It really deserves a post of its own, as this is interesting stuff, if you’re the least bit into bees. Which you should be. Maybe tomorrow. Anyway, I am relieved and grateful and encouraged about this whole process. Good stuff.

   Thursday night I was able to attend my nephew Dante’s high school band concert and hear him play saxophone. It was wonderful. He is so good and talented, so smart and sweet, I feel very lucky to have him in my life. And he somewhat reluctantly allowed me to meet his pretty girlfriend, so that is a milestone I won’t soon forget. I may or many not have taken an excessive amount of photos that night. And, unrelated, he may or may not invite me to future vents. We’ll see. LOL

   Professional momentum and stressors are ever present for Handsome, but he continues to weather storm after storm and accomplish things that only embolden my pride in him.

   My youngest daughter asked to spent another day at the farm this week, right on the heels of that last delightful visit, and we had an even better time together than before! We baked, cooked, baked, discussed writing and spirituality, played the piano; we had lunch at home and another tea party and read aloud to each other chapters from Where the Red Fern Grows; we played with the animals; she helped us repair the fence felled by Daphne. We talked about fun, easy things and a few hard things, and we reached a golden, glittering understanding. We hugged and laughed and just loved. Love, love, love. That’s what it’s all about.

   I spoke briefly but meaningfully with my rather legendary Grandpa Rex this week. Just thinking about him makes me smile!

   Friday night our famous little Dinner Club With a Reading Problem convened to discuss Little Women and celebrate Christmas, We decorated cookies. We ate gluttonously. We shared our lives with each other and laughed some more. I love my book club girls so much, and I know they love me too. Kerri collected coats for delivery to New Jersey, where a colleague of hers is still recovering from the hurricane. We signed cards for all of our guest authors from this past year, and we made excellent plans for projects in early 2013. Stay tuned, folks… Book club has amazing things going on!

   Then yesterday Handsome and I accidentally slept late. Very very late, possibly thanks to an ongoing battle with some mysterious physical ailment. We rose with barely enough time to snag a few truck stop donuts then ready ourselves for a day of family visiting and Christmas shopping. The bulk of our day, after that, was spent soaking up love and laughter at my Aunt Marion’s house. She is so special to me, always had been, and she and Uncle John were giving their six year old grandson a little birthday party to which we were invited. What a day!

   More cuddling, more love, a couple of fun movies last night, and Handsome and I are still running on full. I walk around constantly with happy butterflies in my stomach, excited about what we will experience day after day. Is this the Christmas spirit? I think so. I hope it is strong in your home, too. If you need a dose, we have lots of extra. Come on over!!

“It is Christmas in the Heart
That Puts Christmas in the Air.”
~W.T. Ellis
xoxoxoxo

 

A Few Animal Updates

1.   The llama was skunked last night. Or this morning. Or this afternoon. Or possibly all three, judging from his stench, which I caught on a stiff breeze while photographing him today. His pasture-mates are clean as whistles, though, so hopefully this means that Sir Romulus has finally accepted his role as varmint-dismisser. I absolutely swell with pride to imagine him scooping his long, noodly neck really low and trotting aggressively after a black-and-white intruder. Good boy, Romulus. Good, stinky, untouchable boy.

I can’t even cope with how beautiful his eyes are.

2.   The chickens still have not provided me any more eggs. Well, I have collected exactly ONE EGG this week. If by some chance you have been watching my little egg counter on the sidebar over there and wondered if I have just forgotten to update it… No. Just no eggs. Do you know how embarrassing it is to buy a carton of  snow white eggs at the grocery store? I feel like such a fraud. Like everyone there knows. Watching me examine eggs as if I have a choice. Judging me. Calculating in their heads how much money I have wasted on chicken scratch this month. Anyway, the feathery ladies do not appear to be molting; they have plenty of sunshine and fresh water; and only two roosters are around to “bother” them. Hubba hubba. So I know in my calcium-deprived bones that a giant clutch of eggs is somewhere on these nine acres. Somewhere. Not in the barn or the coop, but somewhere I will find them. Eventually. Or I will find a little nursery school of fresh baby chicks, which are only slightly less delicious.

An old photo, from more productive days…

3.   But Mia’s love is still going strong. I sat in the sunny front yard today and fed him and his downy compadres a bag of stale bread, and he cuddled and honked me properly. I happened to be listening to music via headphones at the time, though, and apparently he objected to this. He started pecking at my head and really zeroed in on my headphones, almost in perfect beat to Ice Ice Baby which is the song that was playing at the time. The thing is, Mia is simply too young to appreciate fake rap from that era.

Stop! Collaborate and Listen! Mia’s back!

4.   My friend, neighbor, and fellow book clubber Seri surprised me today with a tray of made-from-scratch sweet potato biscuits! You guys, they are so good. So soft and pillowy and sweet, just the exact thing I needed for an afternoon pick-me-up. But I tore off a little corner and offered it to Chunk-Hi and he not very politely refused. He really likes crunchy treats, we should always try to remember. Oh well, more for me. Thanks Seri!

Crunchy stuff only, please, Momma.

5.   Our parrot, Bobby Pacino, is not only learning new words lately; he is also assembling his growing vocabulary in terrifying fascinating ways. I knew it was coming, because in the days leading up to a burst of new words and phrases, Pacino always sits quietly on his perch, eyes lowered, one claw massaging his throat. I really need to write down every single thing he can say, because it’s pretty impressive. This week his new thing is “I don’t appreciate it, OK?” We’ve heard worse from him, unfortunately, but for some reason this sentence just cracks me up. The thing is, he says it with such appropriate disgust. His inflection, you guys, is spot on.

Someone told me… If you have a parrot 
and you aren’t teaching him to say
“Help! They changed me into a parrot!”
Then you’re wasting your time.

Oblah-Di, Oblah-Dah!
xoxoxoxo