:. weezer .:

No, not the band. The canary. This morning when I was logging on to my email I heard the weirdest little noise: a raspy, whistling kind of noise. It took awhile, but I finally realized it was coming from my little Mozart. He was asleep . . . and he was WHEEZING.

Perhaps you don't understand the implications of a wheezing canary. Birds are in BIG TROUBLE when they start having respiratory problems. And the cold winter weather can be a killer.
Oh. No.
Not Mozart.

One of my dearly-held tenets is: Life is too short not to have a canary.

I get made fun of a lot for my love of feathered friends. But during the January doldrums, while the rest of the Midwest is suffering from seasonal affective disorder, my little canary is singing away, making things feel like a warm spring day. He is a big part of my mental health plan. (Not to overstate things, but it's true.) Besides that, canaries are sweet little birds; they have no annoying habits . . . unlike, say, Quaker parrots.
Over the years, I've had canaries come and go. This little guy (Mozart 5) is particularly adept at singing. It's LOVELY. And it never fails to lift my spirits.

In spite of the wheezing, he seems to be okay; he's not acting sick or anything.
I'm gonna keep a close eye on him, though.
I can't afford to lose springtime.

:. the calm before the . . . well, you know .:

Winter storm warnings abound today for central Iowa. And the citizenry seem to be in classic pre-storm mode: the grocery store was crowded, everyone stocking up on necessities before being snowed in. (Milk, bread, beer, chocolate and ice-melt seem to be popular items.)

It's funny, too, because right now it's actually rather balmy; the sun is shining and it's around 30 degrees. Not bad for a December day. Hard to believe that in just a few hours, all that will change and winter-style hell will break loose.

Please, God, just let everyone get home safe and sound . . . . and then let it rip! We could all use an extra day of Christmas vacation!!


And on a related note, I ran into Libabe at Dahl's. I love that he and I shop at the same stores!

:. fa la la la la .:

:. libabe .:

I was at Target last week when suddenly, from behind, I heard a word that is music to my ears: "Grandma!"
I turned around, and there was my little Liam, riding chariot-style in a cart pushed by his mommy. As soon as they pulled up next to me, Liam threw Lambie (whom he was clutching) into my cart and then attempted to transfer himself also.
Love! Joy! Heart! He wanted his grandma!
What a lovely interlude to my day!

But wait! The story gets even better!

Yesterday Emily told me that she and Liam were again at Target. (Yes, it's a family favorite!) Once in the cart, Liam started yelling, "Grandma! Where are you?! Grandma!"

Too funny.

He thought because I had been there with him in a certain situation, I would always be there with him.
He thought he simply had to call my name and I would show up.

What silly, child-like thinking!

Jesus said, "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

Oh.

:. adieu .:

Farewell, chubby naked cherubs. You were gaudy and old-fashioned and beautiful. But you knew your days were numbered when the egg exploded. There was no longer any way I could allow you to grace my walls once you were covered in green, smelly egg-goo.
Alas! You will be missed!