This just in: The birds at our birdfeeder are retarded.

We don’t get the pretty, showy birds at our feeder; it’s more of a proletariat smorgasbord of miscellaneous sparrows and chickadees. Which, no biggie, they gotta eat, too, but sweet fancy MOSES, are they stupid. Here’s the pattern:

1. Assemble in branches of fir tree adjacent to feeder.
2. Swoop down en masse and lustily attack the feeder and often each other for about 5 seconds.
3. Get startled by the, um, NOTHING that is walking by, and feverishly flock back to the safety of the fir branches. For another 5 seconds.
4. Remember, hey! There’s food down there! For free! We should look into that!
5. Repeat steps 2-4 ad infinitum.

It is seriously giving the cat whiplash. Not being much of a bird person, I’m sure there could be some rational explanation for this, you’ll excuse the pun, flighty behavior, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what it would be.

Good Riddance, 2008!

Looking back, I have to say that 2008 was not exactly a banner year. We had a break in and robbery, both cars broke down and had to be replaced, lots of pregnancy-related ill health, grandma going crazy and then dying – not to mention the economy going to hell and all kinds of political craziness. There were good things, of course – getting back in touch with old friends, my sister having her first baby, the Hatchling getting more and more interesting and fun(ny), satisfying projects around the house, etc. But overall, I’m not really sad to see the year go, you know?

Lately I try not to make uber-specific New Year’s resolutions on the principle that they just make me feel like a wanker when I don’t achieve them, but here are my sort of generalized ones:

1. Write more. In any area (blogging, academic, personal, etc.)
2. Keep working on being a more chill, zen-type person instead of the anxiety-ridden freakazoid that my genetic background wants me to be.
3. Find ways to enjoy being healthier.
4. Learn to say no without feeling guilty.
5. Breathe deeper and enjoy the ride.

Frankly, I’ll be happy if I can achieve (1) at any level. The rest is just gravy. How about you?

Oh, and a little post-Christmas cheer: here’s the Hatchling opening presents on Christmas Eve.

Opening Presents – Yo Gabba Gabba (Xmas 2008) from Squab on Vimeo.

Not so much with the Merry and Bright

The funeral is Friday, so I’ll be flying south tomorrow afternoon, returning Sunday evening. We’ve done some abbreviated Christmas celebrating, with plans to do the rest once everyone is back in town in the New Year. Right now I’m mostly just glad that the Hatchling is so little that she doesn’t really know the difference; she’s just excited to be getting awesome toys and eating so many cookies.

Anyway: posting will be minimal or naught for a bit. Hope you’re all having festive, relaxing, holidays, through which I can live vicariously.

… and then my Grandma died.

For one reason or another, this has felt like a particularly stressful Christmas. I really have been trying to cut back on plans and obligations, but this pregnancy is cutting back even further on my ability to cope, so there have been numerous breakdowns this week, and they haven’t all been the Hatchling’s, if you know what I’m saying. All I want to do is sit in front of the fire and knit or read, but instead I feel obligated (by whom? No one knows!) to finish the baking, or make yet another run to Target, or do some other damn holiday-related project which only has the effect of making me more Scrooge, less Cratchit. Or something.

So anyway, given the general tenor of this year’s pre-Christmas season, it should surprise nobody that Fate has seen fit to have my Grandmother, the one who’s been slowly losing her marbles since July, die today. About 20 minutes ago, actually. She’d been hospitalized earlier this week with kidney failure and pneumonia and a host of other ills, so we knew it was only a matter of time. And I’m happy she’s gone, because she hasn’t really been alive since the summer and it was past time for her to go. But I’m also really, really sad, because she was the grandparent I was closest to and I’ll miss her so much and I wish with all my heart that my two girls could have known her. Stupid death. And stupid timing, because now of course the holiday plans are all thrown into chaos; my parents are going down south today or tomorrow and as soon as we know the funeral plans I’ll be heading down, too. If I were a more Zen person I could probably come up with something vaguely heartwarming about how it really puts everything into perspective, and how I won’t be stressing over the little things anymore but just enjoying my time with family. But I am, sadly, not in a Zen frame of mind, and stress is my major talent, so, you know. I’ll still be stressing. And sad.

Hint to Fate: now would be a REALLY good time for me to win the lottery. I’m just sayin’.

So freaking awesome

Just doing my bit to spread some holiday joy. And Holy Hannah, does this give me a lotta joy. Shamelessly stolen from Questionable:

Christmas Countdown

We’re in the final stretch, y’all. Less than a week until Santa-day. Are you ready? Because I AM NOT. I’m trying to adopt a Zen attitude about it, but it’s not working very well. Probably because it’s a Judeo-Christian holiday, and what goes better with that than a healthy sense of guilt and general overwhelmedness? I have some packages that MUST get mailed today (and I shudder to think how much I’m going to have to pay to ship them), and then it’s on to more assembling, grocery shopping, baking, and cleaning. And I mean, sure, yes, the world would still turn happily on its axis even if I didn’t make five varieties of cookies plus peanut brittle, but who would be satisfied with THAT? Only someone with a much healthier outlook on the world in general, that’s who.

How are you all out in Squabland? Everyone ready for the festivities (if you’re celebrating them)?

Butterfingers

I swear, this pregnancy is making me a total klutz. I’m not saying that I’m the epitome of grace at the best of times, but the last two weeks my level of physical ineptitude has really gotten ridiculous. I can’t fix a meal without dropping at least three key items on the floor. I can no longer pour myself a drink without spilling at least a few drops. I drop … everything. Books, shoes, silverware, my glasses, you name it. I can’t even type as well as I used to be able to. IT IS IRRITATING. Particularly when I’m making many things for Christmas-type gifts, and the band-aids! I have used so many! I’m presently working on the theory that drops/smudges of actual human blood give gifts that handmade, one-of-a-kind essence that you just can’t buy. (And really, why would you WANT to?)

In other news, my other blog has been de-spammified, so there are new recommendations up for your yuletide reading pleasure.

Fa la la la la, la la la la

This is the first year the Hatchling is old enough to want to help with the Christmas decorations. We finally got the tree up this weekend, and she was very “helpful” with the ornaments (or as she likes to call them, the “wondaful decowations”). Sure, she wanted to hang all of them off the same small branch, but at least she did manage to actually hang some all by herself!

Decorating the Christmas Tree, 2008 from Squab on Vimeo.

Friday Link Dump

Trying to get rid of some of my open tabs …

Don’t get me wrong, I want higher safety standards for US toys … but leave it to congress to enact regulations that will pretty much ban small handcrafted (and safe) toys from the market. Oy.

Did you hear that Oprah’s gained weight again? This is the best possible response to that – and to anyone else who’s stuck in the lose/gain cycle.

I can’t say I’m fluent in any foreign language; nevertheless, translation – esp. of fiction and poetry – is one of my favorite literary activities (and something I have a bit of a knack for, I have been told). It’s an underappreciated art form, with many pitfalls – as the case of Elfriede Jelinek demonstrates.

The best book covers of 2008 – because some of us do, indeed, judge a book by its cover.

Enjoy.

Checklist

  • Inability to find a comfortable position in which to sleep/sit/eat/exist? Check.
  • General grumpiness? Check.
  • Constant fatigue, due to item 1 and contributing to item 2? Check.
  • Lower back and round ligament pain? Check.
  • Irritating emotional instability? Check.
  • Possibly irrational levels of anger at Mr. Squab’s place of employment for its no-leave-nohow-for-nobody policy? Check. Maybe. Except for the irrational part, because WTF?
  • Ever-lingering nausea? Check.
  • Ravenous hunger combined with total apathy towards any actual food? Check.
  • Increasing inability to engage in complex thought because this baby is SUCKING MY BRAIN CELLS? Double Checkity Check-Check.

I tell you what, if I read one more time about the damn second trimester “glow” or “energy surge” I am going to stage a public conniption fit.