Misty Bird

When most people look at Misty Bird, they think they are looking at a Cockatiel, but that's just a disguise. He wears the feathers of a male Cockatiel to throw people off his real mission which is Supervisor Extraordinaire.

Misty Bird lives in a cage that rests on a table in the corner of the living room, aka The Bird room. He has a view of the whole room including a good portion of the wide entrance hall into the room as well as the activity thru the glass window on the wall next to his cage.

Misty came into my care about five years ago. It was a life changing experience for both of us. I had just lost my house in hurricane Rita, and had resettled in an apartment in Houston, TX. Misty had been passed from one foster family to another and was showing signs of neglect. Thru the good offices of friends (doing good deeds) we were brought together for good or ill. It's still undecided but as things presently stand the 'good' is more heavily weighted than the ill.

In the early days of our relationship, I read books about the care and feeding of Cockatiels, spent a lot of money on toys, vitamins and tasty seeds, and regular visits to authentic bird groomers. I also spent many hours holding him on my finger and talking to him to no avail. He preferred jumping off my finger to the floor and hiding under chairs and tables. Neither did he show an inclination to imitate human speech, but exercised an incredible range of whistles and screeches. He also refused to eat the nourishing diet the authentic bird groomers recommended. He ate only black sunflower seeds, which the authentic bird groomers called potato chips of the seed diet.

Suffice it to say we gradually settled into a routine that suited both of us. I let him stay in the cage as I stood next to him and repeated the phrase, “I love you” over and over hoping he would learn to say it. Limiting his sunflower seeds forced him to eat other seeds. On his part, the screeching stopped and he looked at me in a interested way, cocking his head this way and that.

Then one day I was given a kitten, which, in time. grew into a cat. Misty whistled each time the cat entered The Bird Room, then ignored her. If the cat began some activity I had prohibited at one time or another, alarm whistles rang out.

Surprise is hardly the word to use when one day, I heard Misty whispering the words, “I love you”!

Presently he is talking some kind of gibberish in a louder tone, but I don't know if he is imitating an over heard conversation, or a TV commercial. From now on, I'll switch the TV off and only play music.

The question is: what music to play, a classic instrumental, a jingle, The Star Spangled Banner, or a Woody Guthrie?


Cockatiel



Theater: The Dresser by Richard

[Editor's note: This story by Richard]

On Wednesday February 16, 2011 Frances and I enjoyed a wonderful play, The Dresser by Ronald Harwood at the San Jose Repertory Theater.

The play is about Shakespearean Theater in the English Provinces, during World War 11. It was enjoyable to watch and listen to the dialogue. The sound effects of air raid sirens and bombing in the back ground gave the effect of war.

An interesting subject came up about how and why actors superstitions play an important roll in their lives and acting which we also enjoyed.

Remembering

Remembering

In loving fellowship
They graced our lives
In springs and
Summers fair.
In common, felt
The breath of autumns
And snowy winters air.
We knew the seasons
From farmer's fields,
Heard Robins sing
Their birdsong trills.
Picked wild flowers
On the river banks,
And hiked the woods,
Went nutting where
The great trees stood.
The stars we followed
Set the paths on
Journeys,once begun
To fated ends, when
At last, we mourn their
Leaving one by one.
No use to wish for
Life's undoing,
For each one lost,
There's only grieving
Until the weight of
Grief jells memories
Of time and place
To seek a sweetness
In the sorrow and
Again to trace
The bonds of love,
Of fellowship and grace.

Marion Bigelow 2003

Mangos

Mangos are a favorite of mine and until recently I was unaware there were so many varieties. I have been getting some from the flea market that are from Mexico. The skin is green and much larger than the green and yellow ones at the grocery store. They have an exotic sweetness resembling a mixture of peaches, tangerines and pineapple.

I have been saving the seeds to germinate. According to the information I read on the internet, it's a very simple process and generally quite successful. They can grow into trees readily in warm, humid climates, but they also make nice house plants.


Green Mangos

 While Googling for mango information, I discovered there are thousands of varieties grown around the world, with over 1500 varieties being grown in India. The mango variety considered the best in the world, the Alphonso, comes from India. Named Alphonso, after a Portuguese military commander, it is called the King of Mangos. It has yellow and light green skin and is non-fibrous. It is very sweet with a spicy, vanilla quality. It is only available in the months of April and May. After a ban of eighteen years, it's once again being imported into the U S since President Bush signed a trade agreement in 2007.

Sliced Mango

 Eating a mango can be tricky since they are very juicy, and getting the fruit separated from the large, flat seed can be messy. There is a famous scene in a TV episode of Agatha Christie's story, The Theft of the Royal Ruby, where Poirot (David Suchet) explains and demonstrates how to pit a mango with a spoon. There are other variations where you slice off the the sides of the mango or peel it with a vegetable peeler.

My personal method is to first cut completely around the fruit along the flat edges of the seed with a very sharp knife. Then I continue cutting completely around the mango 4 more times making narrow strips that can be easily cut away from the seed and scooped from the skin to eat or store in the fridge.

Cut and Sliced Mango

  

The Kind That Fights Back by KimB

[Editor's note: This story was written by KimB]

Mom was very particular about what we ate as kids and often we protested loudly. Mom loved wheat germ and yogurt (plain no sugar) and could eat loads of it. Frosted Flakes and other sugared cereals never graced our table and plain oatmeal was the most common breakfast food.

Getting groceries with Mom was always a “chore” and stressful to a T. Tagging along behind her while she selected the “correct” items was at times unbearable. I could see all the stuff that was advertised on TV and none of it went into the basket. Pleading and pouting availed nothing. There were no Oreo cookies going home with us, instead Raisin cookies (long flat and very uninteresting) were placed in the cart. Cream of Wheat made it to the basket, while the Coco Puffs stayed on the shelf.

Once, I placed something in the basket hoping Mom wouldn't notice – WRONG! First, she thought she had gotten the wrong cart but a confession soon followed and the subsequent lecture insured I never did THAT again.

But not everything was dreadful. English Muffins were always On The List, as was Peanut Butter. But like all other things, Jiffy wasn't going to make the cut and Mom always bought “fresh ground” peanut butter in a plastic tub. If I pleaded just right, I might get “crunchy” style but most often “smooth” was the version to come home with us.

I loved peanut butter and we ate it by the heaping spoonful. Heaps of it where placed on the English Muffins and with one bite, your jaws were clamped together. The perfect vacuum was achieved and it took minutes to get your jaws unglued to continue the munching. I think it was a secret method Mom had found to keep us occupied and quiet for 5 minutes... and it worked. We would be so busy trying to get our jaws re-hinged that glorious silence existed for a short while.

Mom would fix a mishmash of stuff for dinner. Mom would ask what we wanted in the casserole and we would pick out stuff from the fridge. Once, long before I ever tasted Thai Food, peanut butter made it into the pasta and sauce dish. With skepticism, Mom put a wallop of peanut butter into the sauce and surprisingly it tasted great!

English Muffins and peanut butter were the Hard Tack for traveling too. On any car trip we made, a bag of groceries sat on the seat near by and inside were English Muffins and the ubiquitous tub of peanut butter. Well slathered slices where passed around whenever anyone said they were hungry. The car may have run on gasoline but we ran on peanut butter until we got to our destination.

There was always a special quality to the peanut butter Mom bought. I have never been able to find the duplicate to the jaw clamping stuff Mom used to get. I have tried the organic stir-it-up type and the grind-it-yourself types and while they tasted good, they never compare to the memories of the stuff that “Fought Back” every time you ate it.

English Muffin with Peanut Butter