birds of a feather

why do people hate pigeons? probably the reason my grandma hated all birds: they are dirty.
"they can't be much dirtier than us, plus they fly, grandma! so they don't even have to walk on the ground as much." she wasn't impressed with my logic. and looking back, if i was obsessive compulsive, that reasoning probably wouldn't have driven me to accept the winged creatures lovingly into my home either.

i spent a few hours in the park today watching the pigeons peck their way back and forth across the grass, terrorizing some prissy girls on a towel. the birds were in turn terrorized by two young boys with bikes. although the pigeons were smart enough to disperse as the boys rode their bikes through the middle of their pigeon huddle, they weren't smart enough to actually flee the area. again and again they danced: group of pigeons coo cooing as they waddle around a patch of grass. little boys circle around then dart at the birds. pigeons take flight to evade the youngsters. pigeons return to the same spot several minutes later. through all this back and forth i noticed that pigeons' flapping wings sound just like rustling leaves.

today is day 1 of 2 of the chicago air and water show, and when the pigeons weren't flying, i attempted to locate the fighter jets through the clouds. they can go a lot faster than their sound waves travel, so i was constantly looking in the wrong place. i was also tricked several times when the el rumbled by and i mistook it for a plane's roar.

the pigeons sound like leaves and the el sounds like a fighter jet.
that's practically a bad poem.

happy birthday to us!

in honor of certain important birthdays, a math problem: today mr. president is exactly twice as old as katharine who, 12 years ago, was a quarter of mr. president's current age. how old are they?

nighttime

i had climbed in bed, stretched, yawned, and arranged the blanket. i savor those first seconds. all the day's tension diffuses, displaced by comfort--a comfort that's more valued because it's fleeting and soon gives way to hot sheets and a smashed pillow. if i can keep my mind at bay during this time, it's suddenly 3:00am and i'm waking up to a cat on my head. if, however, a huge explosion goes off outside my house then it makes for a bit more trouble falling asleep. which is what happened. after several more crackles, the boom revealed itself as just one of a series of firecrackers, but it got me thinking all apocalyptic. not quite in the terrifying way the end of the world really would be, but more imagining so much humanity and activity just one day disappearing.

during this time i must've had my eyes closed because i opened them to find a huge object looming right above my face. it was so close, so big, and so nondescript. a shot of adrenaline ran through me before i realized what it was: a pillow.

i've thought about death a lot lately. seems to be the result of actual deaths, watching dead like me, and a few ridiculous conversations with my mom about where she'll live after my dad dies....a friend at work hates when people even mention the word. i understand it's not pleasant to think we'll one day all be six feet under, but that's just the thing--one day we will all be six feet under, or else a million little ashes. it's one thing we can all rely on. like the saying goes, death is the great equalizer. and in a weird way, i find it sort of reassuring. it's not like there's a chance you could be the only one of your friends and family that goes while everyone else is left to live for the rest of eternity. sure, you might kick it a few years or--worse case--decades before everyone else, but what's 20 years on an endless timeline?

this isn't to say i'm not scared of dying. frankly, i'm not quite sure how i feel about it, but i do know that me ignoring death won't result in death ignoring me. plus, contemplating it now as opposed to on my death bed seems likely to make the whole ride a bit smoother.

last night when i was striken with terror as a foreign, black shadow loomed in the room only to be a harmless cloth stuffed with feathers, i wondered if that wasn't what death might be: something we spend our whole lives fearing only to find that not only will it do us no harm, but it makes sleep a lot more comfortable.

in the quotidian

under soapy hot
water and most banal chore
skin glows red with joy

day 28

day 28 on kitchen island. everyone has deserted me, and i am left to fend for myself. luck was on my side this evening, though, and i was able to spear a small fish.

* * *

okay, so i'm not really stranded on an island, although when it comes to cooking i often feel that way. i'm giving it my best attempt, though, and with the friends i have and the knowledge they have i should be able to make at least 4 dishes come 2012.

on saturday i ate quinoa for the first time. people had boasted about this complete protein, and after eating it, i see what all the fuss was about. this dish had a basil-lemon dressing and was served cold with craisins and raspberries. tonight i was determined to recreate it, but dominicks had no quinoa to be found, so instead i bought cous cous. the end result was nothing like the dish from saturday, but considering i dumped all the ingredients for the cous cous into the pot at the same time as opposed to letting the liquid ones boil first then adding the cous cous, i'm pretty pleased it's even edible.

i truly did cook up a small fish--a salmon. that was terrifying. try cooking a meat that's the same color before it's prepared as it's supposed to be after it's prepared. these things should come with some kind of bell or light to indicate their ready. i think i cooked it in a little too much oil, but that's probably for the best as it helps mask the fish's overdone texture.

to add some green to the plate, i did up some broccoli and green beans very plain but tasty. they went well with the salmon unlike the cous cous which was sort of like eating peanut butter with bacon-- i've done it, but most wouldn't.

i paired this dish with a screw top red wine that had been allowed to breath for exactly 7 days. because this was a last minute discovery and a much needed drink, it was consumed at a slightly cooler temperature than typically recommended--refrigerator temperature.

no fires, no food poisoning, no trips to the hospital.
all in all, quite a success i'd say!

once, i was a little girl, and i didn't ask questions. i talked to strangers about their dogs and favorite colors. in the middle of the day i would announce an evening concert and perform a tap dance wearing a polka-dotted leotard and pink plastic pearls. i yelled when i was angry, and i cried when my animal balloon popped. i didn't hesitate.

then, i was very old and reminiscing one early morning, huddled into the paisley comforter, unable to sleep because of aches. i contrasted this little girl to the decades that ensued and wondered where all that uninhibited zest went. moreover, i wondered why i wasted all those years--all those years that went by like tics on the second hand--worrying rather than doing.

this and that

oh blog. how you've been neglected.

because of this. and this.
and also this [but not this].
and a few other things, which are unlinkable.

but after this, this will pick up again.
and then there will be this: