flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

February 20, 2006

Updates, Because I Know You Care

Bill the Crab lived in the BirdHouse for three weeks. At which point, birdwoman had enough. We went to lunch at the restaurant and returned Bill to his friends. Stinky cried many crocodile tears. The restaurateurs were amazed; Bill (or Frog, as Grandma Birdwoman called him) had lived longer than any expected. He was returned to the pot of Japanese River Crabs, where the rest of the inhabitants proceed to pick him to shreds.

The Atomic clock, too, rests with the fishes. It kept good time for about a week. Then it stopped. Then it spun. Then it was off by a few hours. We changed the battery… rinse and repeat. Much spinning, finally settling on the correct time, for about a week. Then, it decided to be about 20 minutes slow. Then an hour fast. One last battery change, it spun for 2 days, we threw it out and bought a manual set clock. It’s kept perfect time since.

Sometimes, technology is not better.

I have gotten used to Folgers, and sometimes even imbibe (though I’ve mostly switched to tea). Sometimes, addictions are stronger than preferences. I now understand the bums on the corner drinking mad dog. God help me.

We threw out the lavender. The scent of bo-hunks was unsettling the equilibrium of Birdwoman’s mother (hah!). Now we’re covering natures scents with “spring breeze”.

And if anyone knows a song, perhaps by a folk group like Peter Paul and Mary, that talks about the pretty little colored houses of San Francisco, with the words “tippy top” or “ticky tock” in it somewhere, I’d much appreciate it.




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