Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts

Thursday, January 23, 2014

50 Things That Make Me Happy

December, January, and February are very terrible months. I thought that writing this list might help.

50 Things That Make Me Happy

1. Throwing a baseball with my sons, the afternoon sun blinding me for a moment
2. Shoveling snow, pushing the planes of whiteness ahead of me like surf
3. Finding a hidden pane of winter ice in a wheelbarrow and pressing it with my hand until it cracks and the cold water floods out onto the surface
4. Snipping scallions
5. The accidental tangle of my five-year-old's hand in my hair and his gentle efforts to pull it free
6. Writing a paragraph that I never saw coming
7. Writing an entire book that I never saw coming, either
8. Birds wheeling in symphony over the buildings
9. Early crocuses, confused by temperature changes but startled up alive nonetheless
10. I have recently noted that my Christmas lights, still hung, look rather like droopy breasts


11. The scent of lavender
12. Thinking of packing for summer camp. Which happens in July.
13. My child threw a gobbet of bubbles at me from his bath and it stuck in my eyebrow.
14. That same child needed help with his undies because his skin was "sticky."
15. He also said he had to "port-a-potty" his troops ("fortify") during a game of Risk.
16. There is a small leaf-shaped birthmark on my right calf; it is something constant and unchanging. How many times have I changed over, like water, and still that birthmark remains?
17. Green olives with pimentos inside them
18. The same olives inside a chilled martini
19. The taste of a grapefruit, cut into slices



20. Kneesocks that don't fall down
21. The softest blanket in the world ( I OWN it!)
22. A fresh shipment of The Hundred to my doorstep, to be sold and given as gifts
23. The cashiers at the Larchmont Trader Joe's, ever cheerful
24. Capture the Flag with my boys, the territories Upstairs and Downstairs in the house. Front and back stairs neutral ground. High stakes!
25. Very, very small turtles—especially peevish ones!


26. Uni, especially at Hajime in Harrison, NY
27. The Hundred: Book Two (Working title: The Vision and the Clock). Every word I write is a surprise to me.
28. Playing "Karma Police" on the antique Chickering Baby Grand piano. And then playing "Gavotte." And then maybe "Minuet in G" followed by "Jet Plane."
29. Extreme weather events. Provided no one gets hurt.
30. Hot showers in my 54-degree FREEZING FUCKING COLD SIEVE of a house
31. This. Note the date, people. JANUARY.
32. I'm having a hard time getting to 50 things on my list. Did I mention that it was January, and people generally just keel over and die with despair during this most awful of months? Okay...thinking hard...how about lemons? They are fine. And they are yellow. They smell nice. Fuckeroo. I am getting desperate.
33. This morning's poo was well-formed and attractive. (It was not my poo, it was my son's. But I was pleased to find it floating in the toilet exhibiting gleaming evidence of good health on its pelt.)
34. I only hyperventilate in certain places. I totally stop hyperventilating as soon as I go to the Caribbean.
35. When I went to make my tea this morning the teabag stayed intact.
36. Cheese is nice.

37. Somewhere in this world, a child may be having a birthday party right now. With ponies! And atop the ponies are clowns. But I dislike clowns. Now I am having a panic attack. This 50 Things list sucks.
38. I have two kneecaps.
39. I have never been to Abu Ghraib.
40. My middle name is not "Marmaduke," "Ton-o-Lovin'," or "Pol Pot."
41. I don't own anything that poos on the ground. Mwa-ha, poo scoopers!
42. The mosquitos are all absent. But there are crickets in my basement during the winter! Bad bad bad.
43. I didn't accidentally hammer any nails into my duodenum today.
44. Butter atop a slab of lobster
45. I did not name any of my children "Oofhy," "Unmentionable," or "Tudleriffic." Including middle names.
46. Tiny....turtles? No, I already mentioned them, the lil' fuckers. How about tiny OWLS! No bigger than a thumbprint. Or tiny cattle? Bonsai cattle? Or tiny goats!


47. I have not started any fires nor burnt myself on an errant grilled cheese sandwich today.
48. Beans cause gas.
49. Little shirts and suits for tiny turtles. Sewn by arctic maidens wearing lovely wool sweaters and playing zithers.
50. I am still alive. I am waiting for the thaw, and I will never, ever give up.


Sunday, December 26, 2010

Scarecrows: The Only Way to Inspire Jealousy and Rank Fear in One's Neighbors

Above: An extremely menacing and possibly predatory scarecrow terrorizes a neighborhood. It is joined by evil brethren from the local garden center.

I would like to tell you the secret for making your home shine like a diamond in a sea of mediocrity. And that secret is this: Scarecrows. The more scarecrows a property has, the more it will breed stirrings of fitful and vengeful jealousy in the neighbors; pride of ownership in you, the owner; and rank fear in the local squirrel, neighbor, and bird populations.

I have only three scarecrows, as I have recently learned the secret over the past weekend, and have been unable to get to the supermarket to buy scarecrow-making equipment due to the heavy snows. My scarecrows are named after familiar friends and companions of mine, so they are called Johnny-Laid-a-Turd, Repticilus Vaginicus, and She Who Chews Soup. I have placed them in menacing attitudes in various spots about my property.

As soon as I placed my first scarecrow I sighted my neighbor peering out of her upstairs window through her binoculars. I could tell right away by her shocked expression that the scarecrow had terrified her greatly—and her greatest terror lay in the fact that she, poor wretched thing, had not a single scarecrow gracing her property. My first scarecrow was wearing very little at all but a loincloth I had fashioned out of a bathtowel, and I had nailed him on a cross-like structure near the foot of the driveway. Soon after, my neighbor went out in her car, casting me dark looks of aspersion. I believe she went to the local Shop-Rite to purchase some stuffing and scarecrow-pelt material, and perhaps she was caught in the ensuing blizzard? Serves her right, the plagiarizing poseur that she is!

While she was out, I took the opportunity to set up my second scarecrow on the roof overlooking the driveway. Despite the cold weather (Christmas was rapidly approaching), I dressed this scarecrow in a cast-off Lilly Pulitzer dress that no longer fits me due to ingestion of strudel.

It is very important to dress one’s scarecrows appropriately. Outdated costumes that make your scarecrows look like “hayseeds” or “rubes” will only cause your neighbors to laugh at you, not foam at the mouth with jealously. It is difficult to get your scarecrows to look properly menacing while wearing cocktail attire, but it can be done. I suggest buying a pen of the Sharpie brand and drawing very dark eyebrows with a vigorous, up-and-down squiggling motion that makes the scarecrow look like it’s saying “Grr! Grrr!” This has always made my scarecrows look angry and fit to kill, even while holding pink paisley handbags.

I know I have only three scarecrows but I intend to get more very soon.

It is important that your scarecrows are homemade. Storebought scarecrows are often cheap and shoddily made, and their faces melt off in the first heavy rain. Plus, their costumes are not name brand, and that is a dreadful embarrassment. There is nothing more humiliating than seeing a squirrel fearlessly nibbling at the privates of your scarecrow—knowing the damned thing was false by the cut of its collar or the crease in its pant legs—while you are eagerly waiting for that same scarecrow to menace the underthings off your hoity-toity neighbor across the street.

A scarecrow that is not properly menacing should be eliminated from your property, before you become a laughingstock. I always choose compostable materials when constructing a scarecrow, so that I can toss my scarecrow in the compost heap without fear of damaging our Mother Earth. This is why my most recent scarecrow is made entirely out of congealed soup.

No one else on my block has a scarecrow. It is quite pitiable. Not only will their vegetables be snacked upon by all manner of avian pest, but they have to live with the fact that I have beat them to it as a trend-setter. If they were to all invest in scarecrows now, they would most certainly appear to be copying me. It is too late for them. They are doomed to sink in a sea of mediocrity. My neighbor is probably furiously stitching away at her new scarecrow, glaring at me through the window as she does so, but I shall still boldly stride through her property, snacking her vegetables as much as I like. It shall not deter me, although she is using Very Menacing rosemary spriggets for its eyebrows. Rosemary that she could have used in a stew but chose to employ against me, her sweet neighbor. Such is the nature of jealousy, my friends.

You who do not live on my block, however, can still adopt this trend and look smart and chic! I will not begrudge you, especially if you live far across the country where you and your derivative brethren will not bother me. This is why I am sharing the secret of making your property the Very Best It Can Be. With scarecrows!

Here are the best ten tips for building your scarecrows with the proper menace, and with nature-friendly and affordable materials:

1. Encourage your children, if you have any, to participate in the construction of the scarecrow. A child’s poor artistry and inability to construct arms of equal lengths will give your scarecrow a horrible, deformed quality that would never be achieved in those factory-made knockoffs. If you do not possess children of your own, you may borrow one of mine. They have unmedicated spatial inconsistencies that will give your scarecrows that je ne sais quoi.

2. It is best to patent your scarecrow with the U.S. patent office, especially if you have found a way to make him sentient and/or capable of perpetual motion without fresh ingestions of petrol.

3. When arranging your scarecrow in the most menacing attitude on your property, it is often advisable to rest its hands gently upon its privates. This will cause neighbors to wonder if it has molestation on the brain. Were it to become sentient, this would be unpleasant. This will cause them to lie awake at night thinking agitated thoughts, and limit their abilities to do better than you in any way.

4. Straw, chaff, wheat, spelt, and so on are poor choices for scarecrow stuffing. I prefer Gluten-free ingredients that are not liable to be pecked by wild turkeys and doves, causing my scarecrow to look decrepit and decayed. Gluten-free pasta, crackers, and breads are readily available at most health food stores, including Mrs. Greens and Whole Foods.

5. Try to make your scarecrows diverse, reflecting the breadth of our colorful, human tapestry. A sea of white scarecrows dangling from wooden staves and crosses will just make your home look like a rarified country club. This is not what We want to achieve.

6. A scarecrow’s handbag should always be of an appropriate seasonal hue. If a scarecrow is wearing a light, white summer frock, do not choose a heavy black handbag, for example. This sort of thing will result in rude talk amongst the very neighbors one is trying to menace.

7. Scarecrows can be made much more menacing by the application of odors, such as Go Away Evil ™, or by installing soundtracks that play artists such as Peter Cetera. A scarecrow that appears to be singing “I am a man who will fight for your honor” will disturb and agitate many passersby.

8. Accessorize, accessorize, accessorize! I mentioned handbags earlier. The handbags are much more menacing if they are filled with real grenades, loose bullets, or the carcasses of the scared-stiff animals that you have managed to trap by freezing them in the aural glare of a Peter Cetera marathon. Scarecrows also look nice with necklaces made of human teeth.

9. Remember that the goal is to keep people off your property and cause them to tremble in fear whenever your name is mentioned. Then, and only then, will perfect domination be achieved! If any scarecrow fails to fulfill this purpose, it should be terminated without remorse. It is best to terminate during a neighborhood Block Party, at the exact moment that the ice cream truck arrives. In winter, substitute with the arrival of the local Caroling group.


10. Local teens tend to think that scarecrows are a subject for hilarity, not mind-numbing terror. Teach them a lesson by air-dropping a batch of homemade beauties atop their homes during “Movie Night” or a sleepover. Make certain the scarecrows you choose to drop are the ones most likely to become sentient at the most surprising moments, or else the hollow thumping may simply remind the callow teens of turds striking the roof.
  
It is best not to overdo the scarecrows. I know that I earlier recommended “the more scarecrows the better,” but I have recently revised my view due to an article I read in The New York Times. I am a little bit scared now, as the one I made out of soup has dissolved into my yard in the heavy snows and, therefore, into our water table.  

I would rather not share the entirety of the article's content here, due to copyright restrictions, but suffice it to say that my prescient warnings about sentient scarecrows came true for one poor homeowner in Marietta, Georgia, who had covered every square foot of her property with a matching scarecrow in a gingham outfit with black button eyes (Pfah! Hardly menacing!), in an effort to control the local goose population. Not only were Ms. Scribb's geese not deterred, but her scarecrows turned on her in a gruesome bloodbath that is soon to be made into a motion picture. Let this be a lesson to you! Keep your scarecrows to a minimum. I suggest 15 at most. Good luck to you.

Friday, August 28, 2009

My Wretched Little Punkin Patch



This year, we decided we would have a charming little pumpkin patch to entertain our boys and provide hours of delight, not to mention Halloween manna like the gods write about.

Let me just explain that we may as well have lain prone in the back forty and let the birds peck at our eyes. Such torment would have been preferable to watching the feathered blight DESTROY ALL OF OUR DREAMS.

It started when our six maturing pumpkin plants begin to burst forth in a fecund froth of blooms. We were excited! We watched them, waiting for the elusive female (with its fatter bump under the flower), so that we could take our friend's advice and manually "sex" the pumpkins by "inserting" some pollen from one of the male flowers. The females were rare, but the males were popping up all over the joint. Then one morning, we awoke to discover that every last male flower had been bitten off at the stem. Some females were still there, waiting expectantly, but like a bunch of haggard spinsters they withered on the vine. (Later--too late--we realized we could have stolen over to the neighbors to borrow a male appendage from one of their flowers, but the stud-farming of pumpkins might have caused some tongues to wag.)

We blamed the bunnies, of course. First, we purchased dried fox urine, marketed as the "scent of fear." The rabbits were supposed to have heart attacks within 50 feet of the stuff. Next, a friend suggested that the cookbook The Splendid Table said that human urine was more effective, and that with four males in the family we could fortify the perimeter most effectively. Other voices chimed in, some offering to send us bags of dog hair. We slathered the patch with pee (the boys enjoyed this aspect immensely) and rimmed it with reflective tape and mesh fencing. We hung a pie tin from a stake. The owl and its cousin, Creepy the Squirrel, got into the game to rough up the hordes of rodentia.

The creatures, whatever they were, kept at it. Finally, the truth dawned. Birds! Filthy, dirty, disgusting boids! Then we got "scare eye."



Scare-eye was no joke! It hung from an old fence pole next to the pumpkin patch, making the whole decrepit scene look even more like Lil' Appalachia. Occasionally the scarecrow's head would fall off into the mud, and its paws (encased in awful gardening gloves) were often resting near its privates.

Amidst this horror, one tiny pumpkin emerged and began to grow. It grew bigger! It turned orange! It was a beauty. It was worth all the pain and frustration. Then one day it immediately rotted on the vine and was chucked into the compost.

That was it. Our dream was over. We dismantled the leering scarecrow and left its body parts on the garage floor. Creepy the Squirrel was banished to the Hosta patch, where he waits to bite the unwary skunk. Scare-eye was unhooked from its pole and sent away, where it can do no more harm. Only the owl stays, wearing a slightly rakish fedora hat, to guard the one remaining pumpkin plant. This last, poor specimen has a few wan male flowers, but females have not emerged.

In retrospect, I should have bought that Jesus statue I saw at a tag sale around the corner. Jesus would have protected our pumpkins, with the Owl as his mute disciple. Together, they could have triumphed! A Mary on the Half Shell would have been the perfect complement, perhaps with a garden gnome or two as protection. Next year, Jesus, you will have a place in our garden, where you will smite the feathered host with deadly bolts of lightning and fiery hail!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Terrible Bird Incident, and other tales of wildlife

After abandoning the New Ro shopping cart herd to their relentless mating and dominance behavior, I feared that I would be bereft of wildlife in my new environs. Not so! Here in Mamaroneck, the wildlife is out, and it is about. There are herds of bad-ass squirrels, and the other night we spotted a skunk drunkenly sauntering across the front lawn and through the neighbor's hedge (Run! Be free!) The last time I saw a live skunk it was in New Ro and it had a Carvel ice cream cup stuck on its head. It had poked its snout right through the big plastic straw hole and was weaving about on Jackson Street, shaking its head madly. I was about to go and rescue the animal but my husband gently reminded me that it was, after all, a skunk.

Right now, as I sit on the porch, I can hear a Screech Owl hooting gently every few seconds. After each hooting call, something answers with a small clucking hiccup. What that something is is unknown, but it sounds an awful lot like a duck. Yes, a duck. Now admittedly, there is a "duck theme" on our street as the owner of Mamaroneck's Duck Inn lives down the way, with a profusion of ducklike and swanlike objet d'art in the front yard. There may be a mating quality to the back-and-forth interchange, or maybe the baby duck is gonna get et. The hooting and the clucking have now set the neighborhood dogs to barking, so the place is alive with noise! People are drifting out of houses in their nightgowns to see what's amiss.

On our first night here, there was The Terrible Bird Incident. In the middle of the night, we heard shrieks and horrible caterwauling. It went on for a while, and made sleep difficult. During the fight, we heard a loud and tinny "bang! bang! bang!" noise which added to the creepy mystery. The next morning, we discovered that the backyard was peppered with feathers. Some creature had come a-cropper, and had been pecked clean of its plumage. Several days later, we discovered the tail of a fish lying in the grass. No doubt the winged beasts had clashed over the prize, and only one lived to tell the tale (although we never found a beak or other evidence of truly foul play).

The squirrels are another matter. They are a lively and wily bunch of scalawags, and can be heard outside the windows as they gnaw incessantly on Black Walnuts. Sometimes they chase one another over the lawn, cackling madly, and hide up in the treetops to survey the property. They are feisty, sharp-toothed, and rather plump. I fear their numbers are growing. They like to hurl the Black Walnuts against the tin roof of neighbor's shed, which sounds like a shotgun going off. (Hence the "bang! bang!" sounds during the bird fight, which the squirrels must have observed with infinite pleasure, enjoying their walnuts like popcorn.)

If the birds and the squirrels decide to get together, we are all doomed.