June 11, 2008

Feathers And Her Feet

I was getting ready to whip up some Pork Lo Mein when I heard chirping coming from the sink. Upon investigation, I discovered Feathers perched there, apparently ready to help grate ginger. I believe Porter must have been in the kitchen when he was seized by the urge to skateboard, so he deposited Feathers on the kitchen sponge, used the Palmolive and the Fabuloso to hem her in, and dashed outside.

The weird part was not that I found a parakeet by my kitchen sink. It was that Feathers relished her sponge, and refused to climb onto my fingers, no matter how much I coaxed her.

It appears that the sponge massaged every part of her foot, and she needed a little stress relief.

That’s okay, Feathers. All ladies need a little toe rub every now and then.

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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Sardines & Songs- Off To Camp

May 2, 2008

Feathers Friday: Lend Me A Hand

I realized Porter and Feathers share a special ability to communicate when Porter just sensed that Feathers couldn’t reach the annoying itch right there in the small of her back. Thank God he had precisely the right the tool to help her out. No lady would want those nasty fingernails touching her fancy coat.

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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Marathon Mom’s Airport Adventure

April 25, 2008

Feathers Friday: Out To Sea

I don’t know of many parakeets who are lucky enough to get private sailing lessons. Yet Feathers holds such an exalted place of honor in our house that damn the cost, she merits a boat and a large body of water in which to maneuver.

Porter thoughtfully provided a Hot Wheels racetrack as a nearby perch in case it took Feathers a moment to get her sea legs. That was good thinking; Feathers took a couple of dunks before Porter realized that it would be better for Feathers to experience floating on pond-like conditions rather than the churning waters of the open sea.

It didn’t stop there. Next Feathers got to ride through her very own Tunnel of Love.

Although she traveled solo, it was good practice for the day she and her lover are overcome with passion and want to sail away in the moonlight.

The Tunnel of Love ends with a promontory where the passengers can disembark and enjoy the view.

In this case, the view is of the back side of the shower curtain and part of the toilet, but when you spend most of your day confined to a cage, that’s a riveting sight.

But the sailing lessons and the Tunnel of Love are only the beginning of the adventures Porter has in store for Feathers.

She still hasn’t tried out the high dive.

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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Depressing Thought of the Day

April 17, 2008

Feathers Friday (on Thursday) - Olympic Version

The Olympic torch relay has been marred by crowds, protests over human rights, and general pandemonium. That describes the Glamore house on a daily basis, but we don’t have the huge flames, publicity and the massive police presence. I’m able to handle all of the above solo, through sometimes I resort to calling Bill at work so he can make threatening noises at the boys over the phone, but that’s only in rare instances.

The boys have read about the relay in the paper and seen the riots on TV. I’ve fielded many questions about Tibet with my usual skill (”That’s a marvelous question. You should ask Mrs. Rogers about that.”)

The topic has died down somewhat in the last couple of days. Finn is still limping about the house with a splint stabilizing his right ankle until we find out whether he is suffering from a bout of hypochondria or a small fracture. As far as his symptoms go, in general he is able to play drums and wall ball, but feels weak when asked to fold laundry or unload the dishwasher.

Drew continues to use his thirty minutes of television a day watching SpongeBob, wearing one of his two SpongeBob t-shirts (one red, one yellow). Then he’ll join the game of wall ball, muttering “fishpaste!” or “Krabby patties!” when he misses the ball. Later it’s time to read the Hardy Boys, and he shows no signs of deviating from his intense focus. I do believe he’ll read all one hundred and something books, and I’ll continue to explain what “dungarees” and “jalopys” and other words straight from the 1950’s mean, and the tragic aspect is that this knowledge will not help him on the SATs at all.

Porter, of course, has his own idea of fun, and usually that involves Feathers. He and Feathers reenacted the torch relay here in the house, although I was able to convince him to slow from a sprint into a stately walk for Feathers’s sake.

Porter was kind enough to let Feathers get her footing as she prepared to act as the flame.

And then the torch relay began.

Our torch made me thankful for our country, for the patience of parakeets and happy (for once) that Porter hordes paper towel innards along with all the other crap in his closet.

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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Days Before Doorknob 

(Days Before Doorknob is also available as a podcast in the player on the left sidebar)

April 9, 2008

Fabulous Feathers In Her Boudoir

So many of you have been pestering me about the oddest topic. How does Feathers stay so fresh and shiny? you ask. Her coloring is breathtaking, but it’s clear that there is personal grooming at work, too.

Frankly, it’s been a mystery to me, too, as anything that enters Porter’s room inevitably leaves the worse for wear. Feathers has been the sole exception.

Last night Porter came in my room and told me he’d been reading his book about parakeets. It advised that birds should be bathed every so often. I protested that it was much too soon; we’ve only had Feathers for six months or so, and it couldn’t be time for a bath already.

But it was time for a bath, and it would be her second bath, Porter said. He was an expert at cleaning parakeets, and he would demonstrate. This was a hideous idea, and I was about to tell Porter as much, but I was diverted by my husband, who had ordered a boatload of turkey calls and was practicing with them in the den. If lady turkeys are turned on by the sound of scrapes on a chalkboard, we’re going to be swimming in turkey meat soon.

After I’d stopped the gobbling I found Porter busily preparing his bird bath.

First he let Feathers admire herself in the mirror while he told her she’d be even more beautiful in a few minutes. “It will all be worth it,” he told her. I wondered.

He explained that the towel was necessary so Feathers wouldn’t slide around in the sink.  That seemed kind.

Feathers was lowered into the sink and the bathing began. I had to use all my powers of persuasion to convince Porter that shampoo wasn’t necessary. Birds don’t have access to Pert in nature, do they? He thought maybe we should pour a pool of shampoo outside and see if birds used it, but I told him we’d take it one bird at a time and Feathers was the focus of the moment.

Feathers used her beak to tell Porter she did not like the bath.

Porter cupped her gingerly and stuck her back in the sink, telling Feathers that her bath wasn’t over until her beak was clean. I cringed.

Thankfully, the bath was soon over.  No blood was shed and no birds drowned.

Feathers looked defeated, a mere shadow of her former glorious self.

But when Porter took her into my room and tried to blow her dry, she got downright pissed. Porter and I agreed that while the blow dryer might give her feathers added body, she had the right to refuse the service and opt to dry naturally.

I was just thankful that Feather’s salon treatment had taken place in the sink. You may recall that Texas Ranger’s bath took place in a more sordid environment, and lacked the TLC and finishing touches that Feathers received. (Or any finish at all.)

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One year ago in My Tiny Kingdom: It’s Official: Eye’m Old 

BTW - the Lasik has been a great success!