I was abducted by aliens again last night and subjected to tortures unmentionable....they made me listen to my own audio recordings of myself singing off key thru every song written between 1930 and 1960. Last time they nabbed me they apparently implanted some kind of chip and what they wanted this time was to know what it was that caused the chip to register joy and happiness in huge spikes at odd hours of the day and/or night. I am sorry....I am a coward........I could not hold out....I had to tell them what they wanted to know. So some of you guys may be in danger.
This is to warn Joe of "Cranky Old Man", Mary Brewster of "MurrMurrs" and Pearl of "Pearl Why You Little" that I was forced to name names...yours. It IS your fault that I keep breaking out into gales of laughter, giggles and hee-hees whenever I read your blogs, but I do not want anything bad to happen to you as a result of your brilliance and wit so be warned. Unfortunately, I do not have any advice about how to protect yourselves.........I do know that Garlic does NOT work.....I tried both eating it and wearing it and it was useless as a defense. It did, however, keep a lot of mostly tiresome people away from me for days so it was not a total loss. And, in all fairness, these alien abductors have never actually hurt me......so perhaps I am worrying for nothing....you may even enjoy the experience. It sure beats the monotony of having to watch reruns on TV for the gazillionth time.
And no, I did not get a good look at them, those aliens that is, nor was I able to see any details of the wondrous spaceship....it is all fuzzy, like a dream......so please do not nag me for details. . The only thing that came across with dreadful clarity was the monstrosity of my off key vocalizing droning on and on. Could it have been the pickles and ice cream I had before going to bed, do ya' think?
No, I firmly believe it was caused by exhaustion and a lapse into temporary total insanity from single-handedly assembling an 18" x 18" x 30" bird cage before bedtime with nothing but a page of those infuriating assembly instruction (ha) with no words....just arrows and an assortment of letters of the alphabet which prove to be more confusing than helpful (I should not complain.....at least the letters were in English and not Japanese or Korean.) To my credit, I do not remember uttering a single crass epithet....well, not very many.......at least not until I got to the part where I decided to make a few new perches out of more suitable finch size dowels I happened to have in the garage. This required my notching the ends with a little hacksaw and I finally figured out the way to avoid sawing off my finger instead of notching the dowel was to hold the saw upside down and rub the end of the dowel across it.......oh, never mind.........the main problem was being nearly blind and unable to see the end of the dowel, but I got 'er done. Counted my fingers afterward and there still seem to be 10 mostly attached.
Any of you who read my last blog must be either nodding your heads in understanding or shaking your heads side to side in utter disbelief. Does all of this birdcage activity mean that I have succumbed to my wild whim to keep finches? Well, perhaps....but then again, maybe not.... I have not actually surrendered to the act of purchasing any birds. I thought I would first see how I liked having a bird cage on my porch outside of the window where my reclining chair lives (often with my plump bottom settled therein). After a day or so when I see if I am enjoying my birdcage or hating it I will make a final decision on whether to take the next step in the project. No.......to be truthful I think I took the next step today when I sent Florence out to Birds Plus to buy a nesting basket and some Finch seed. I will see how I like having a bird cage and some Finch seed and then I will take the next step. Meanwhile I am amusing myself by making little bird swings out of old discarded plastic canula tubing from my oxygen feed system....... I KNEW I would figure out something to do with them rather than throwing them all out.......I just never dreamed it would be to make bird swings out of them.
And so goes this odd Friday in the little Crazy Old Lady's house on Califa St. Once again I have manged to come up with an idea to get myself out of bed in the mornings and save me from being bored to death by my limitations. I am not ashamed of my craziness, I think it is really quite a Good Thing. I am actually grateful for it.
Oh.........And good luck Joe, Murr and Pearl.
The New Yorker covers: August 18, 1975
9 hours ago