What to do when a bird gets stuck in your house


greener, meet other side
22 July 2008, 2:10 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

Hey ladies,

I cut the boy off of this message. Sorry boy. But you ain’t a lady.

Lola, thank you thank you for the update. I know how difficult it must be to take the jumble and shape it into words, but even though we don’t say it enough, we appreciate the updates and a part of every waking minute is with an eye and a heartbeat towards you. I’m glad you’ve got the fam around, that your mom knows what an embrace she’s in, that you have two beautiful children around to remind everyone what it’s all about.

And hey, I don’t think one can ever classify “my mom has a brain tumor” as blah. Just sayin.

Update from here: not a helluva a lot these days, just summer in the city. It’s been beautiful, lovely, full of exploring the town and looking at snow-capped mountains. Some hiking, some evenings with friends (some 4th-of-Julyness with the aforementioned Mr. O…). I’m in a quiet-style job right now, in an org that is in a serious phase of transition and I don’t feel like I’ve put in the time to make these growing pains worth it. I feel a bit demoted, after the glamor of W Africa (W Africa? Glamorous? Well, you know what I mean. Authority. Capability. Praise. It’s hard to become a worker bee after all that. After the adventure of that place. It’s hard not to have the itch to travel, be dirty and exhausted and challenged and fully fully present. It’s hard to contemplate starting a blog, to work on it during worktime.) Hence the job application yesterday (greener, meet other side), hence the daydreaming out the window.

But these are the angsts of an extremely privileged woman. Remember this above all else.

Also, the pull to move. Yeah, the whole fam wants to go and the thought of actually buying a house and having chickens and being near family (not in that order) is real. I think it’s the ovaries calling. Such a fucking cliche, about to turn 29 and becoming obsessed with studies about older pregnancies = autism. Seriously? Do you even WANT kids? R’s been nesting more these days too, looking at the university as a future career. I (gently) remind of the (half? third?) not-quite finished phd. Somehow my professional prospects are added on as an afterthought. Oh well. I could always write letters to the editor. Or follow the dream of young adult lit, right? Everett, you wanna be my co-author in crime?

Ok. Is it time? It may be time. With great freedom comes great responsibility. Time to figure out the “great” part.

I love you all. Like nothing else. Lola, hug your mom extra from me.

E

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1 Comment so far
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So my pseudonym is Lola, huh? Same concept I guess; no middle name. What else could you do?

Comment by lola




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