For The Birds

 The birds have been quite adept at tidying up any dropped kitty food on the patio. And then some. 

Arachnid

She was a beauty, the black widow we came across while tidying Offspring the Third's metal yard.  SO BIG. 

I couldn't bring myself to squash her. All God's creatures.

 

Look at that Bird

 Herself speaks. 

There's a term in relationship-speak referred to as a "bid for connection": a verbal (or nonverbal) attempt to get another person's attention, affection, support, or interaction. The term was apparently popularized by John and Julie Gottman, who are "relationship researchers" (that feels, in the words of movie Hermione Granger, like a "very woolly discipline"). 

I've seen the bid for connection recently on TikTok, described as the "look at that bird" experiment: one person says to their partner/significant other, "look at that bird!" What does the other person do? Do they look? Comment? Research the type of bird? Relay their own bird story? The level of resultant interaction based on the initial "bid" provides the asker information about their relationship with the ask-ee (and also about the state of mind of the ask-ee at that particular moment, to be sure; can't make sweeping generalizations from a single bird moment). It's an interesting idea.

I've spent some time watching my own Bid activity with my own People. It looks like this: if I can, I try to feel people out before I even get to the Bid stage -- will they be amenable to conversation or interaction? Are they busy? Are they mired in their own Stuff? Is this even a moment to point out, "look at that bird!" Assuming I can make an assessment and deem the Bid winds to be favorable, I send forth a Bid. If I am feeling brave, I may blindly send out a Bid without such knowledge. Either way, I know full well that it may be hours before a response appears, but hope all the same for eventual connection. 

I've discovered: I don't even get to the Bid stage much of the time; and when I do, so very many Bids go unanswered. 

It's a bit discouraging.

My People are so involved in their own Things that (my impression is) very often, a Bid will be unsuccessful or possibly even unwelcome. Everyone is either too busy, or disinterested, or in need of their own emotional support, or promptly vacates a conversation to attend to other matters. (In the latter case, I am torn between feelings of, thank you for acknowledging my Bid however briefly, compared to, having a truncated Bid feels worse than "I see your Bid but can't talk now, let's talk later when I can give you my full attention." No one says that and follows through, though.) 

I don't want to be a burden, or a bother. Can't just blurt stuff out Bid-wise when people don't have the headspace for it. And so I am slowly becoming more and more silent.

When a Bid is not picked up but just dangles there, out in the wild, waiting, I feel awkward. Unanswered small questions litter my texts and my environs, like dry oak leaves stirring with my steps. I scurry away from my one-sided conversations, and go hide. Never mind. I'll be (more) quiet now. 

Does no one have any extra bandwidth right now? Am I just... not compelling enough for people to ask what's on my mind or in my heart, or what bird is outside my window? 

It's hard not to take it personally. I know they're busy.

Should I take it personally? Maybe it's me. 

Maybe No One wants to hear what I have to say. There's a certain complexity/sorrow/depth to thoughts and feelings lately. Most people aren't comfortable with that. OK, then.

Send me a Bid and I'll listen, though. Tell me about your Birds. 

A Little Weather in the Desert

White Sands/Moonrise

 Full moon, August 9. Lovely.

Animalia

A nice treat recently: getting to stand adjacent to some excellent quality barnyard friends. 

Snack

We took a short visit to our alma mater last weekend. During a walk near the golf course on a rainy afternoon, a fox trotted happily by with its mouth full of a snack.  For one shining moment, Nature was right there: the dark clouds, the big sparse raindrops, the lush green of the plants, the glossy fur of the fox, the shiny brown of the rodent it was carrying (thank you for your contribution to the Circle of Life, Rodent), and the silence except for the rustle of the leaves and the gathering breeze. 

Lovely. 

Witness Me

She was tiny. She came up from her watery depths, and her last and greatest effort was so that she could see the world bathed in a light that, for once, was not of her own making. 

And we, creatures of land and light, were privileged enough to see her final journey. 

This fish breaks my heart. 

Godspeed to her. 

Paintings by @sydbecrafty. Lovely. 

Think of the Animals

 Mr. Mustache decided to try to die, yet again. He's King of Stasis, bless his heart.  

I knew it was bad when they had me go to the very back treatment room (you know the one - where they do procedures and perform surgeries) to talk to the vet after they took Mustache's x ray. He was Not Right. He had what looked like a blockage, smack in the middle of his digestive system. Too low to reach from the top, too high to reach from the bottom. Not surgically fixable. The vet, who is an absolutely lovely, kindhearted, and extremely talented vet of many years' experience, said she'd do what she could. 

And she performed a miracle. She pumped Mustache full of fluids and meds, and got his guts working again. He came home, disgruntled and fur askew, but alive and kicking. Good boy, Mustache. 

I am glad that he did not spend the day like I did while he was in treatment: worrying and wondering what to do with his companion Smudge, if he died -- should I take her to say goodbye to him? Would she understand? 

To fret about a small animal, to whom you cannot explain things, and for whom all you can do is pray and hope to minimize their suffering, is a special kind of Hell. 

Sometimes, I am not sure why I even have pets. All they do is break my heart. 

Perhaps, though, I continue to have pets because when they are safe and warm and fed and content, and have all that they need and want, I know that I have molecularly increased the amount of happiness in the world. God knows the world needs it. 

If they are happy, then perhaps I can be happy too. 

-----

For the past few days, terrible wildfires have raged throughout large portions of California. I have hardly read about it, because the destruction is so severe, and the scope of the tragedy so immense, that it is Too Terrible To Contemplate. 

Every now and then, though, a snippet of footage crosses my news feed on some form of social media. Endless flames. Seaplanes scooping water out of the ocean. People putting masks on their pets to walk them outside, because the air is not safe. A kind soul donating his entire collection of Squishmallows, so that children who have lost everything have something soft to hold. 

Poetry from devastated souls speaking in front of the crumbling ashes of their homes: 

I hope houses go to Heaven.
I hope it didn't hurt [when the house burned].

And the animals. Oh my God, the animals.

Posts from rescues and farms, indicating how much room they have for displaced pets of all kinds. Offers to transport animals free of charge. People turning their horses and donkeys loose, in the hopes they will somehow make it to safety. Exhausted skunks. Raccoons. An owl who was rescued, though her feathers were burnt so she could no longer fly. All the creatures. 

We cannot explain to them what is happening. They do not know. The level of fear and panic is unimaginable. 

I could barely stand one rabbit in stasis. I cannot even think about this level of Terrible. So much in ruins. 

God help them. 

Oh, Deer

It's deer season at the park! Lovely.

 

Let Us Pray

Outside of work today. Neat!

Moon

The moon was peeking out over everything at the local park this weekend. Nice. 

Cloudy

The clouds roll across the nearby mountains, and the winds (twenty-five miles per hour, or more) gust regularly. It's the Windy Season here in the desert.

It's migraine season. It's the worst. 

I wish I could go out into the middle of the desert, and feel it all roll right over me, through me, and become one with it. Perhaps, then, I could find equilibrium inside my head, and the pain inside would finally cease. 

Weedy

 I spent an hour weeding the front yard. It was nice, in its own way. 

The yard sorely needed attention. Some of the weeds came up right away; others, though, had tenacious roots and clung petulantly to the rocky soil. 

Some weeds just looked plain menacing.  Audrey II-type weeds. Ominous. 

Yikes. 

Sunset

While trying to accomplish eight hundred thousand things today, I passed by the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of a deep red sunset. The photo didn't do it justice at all. It was unexpectedly beautiful. 

Thank you, Mother Nature. Lovely. 

Morning Walk

Eels and Lobsters

Let's reminisce about Oceanside with a few sea creature photos. Behold, the eels and the lobsters. Nice. 

Fair

 It being Mental Health Awareness Month (depending on whom you ask, it being either May or October), there was a Mental Health Awareness and Resource Fair scheduled to be held at a nearby park this afternoon. Since Beloved Husband planned some time away for one of his hobbies this weekend, I thought I'd take advantage of my alone time to check out this Fair. I'm a fan of supporting open and honest conversation about mental health, especially in a community such as ours where culturally, mental health issues are not easily discussed.  

-----

On my way there, I wondered if perhaps there might be some resources for grief support. I am still struggling, nearly nine months later, with my lovely Daddy's death -- especially this month, when I am slogging through a seemingly endless stream of complex paperwork to meet an estate tax deadline -- and I feel as though I could use some more support. 

It's been a long and lonely road without Daddy, and my resources are few. My brother and sister, though ever so kind and warm and lovely like our Daddy, are far away and tending to their own grief. Beloved Husband, who has thoughtful words when he can stop and listen, is so very busy that he has a hand on the doorknob and a foot either literally or metaphorically out the door much of the time; I am hesitant to interrupt the flow of his complex life to try to turn his attention, because I know he does not have the minutes to spare for me. And I worry a great deal about overburdening Cherished Friend, who kindly reads my texts of Feelings when I can no longer suppress what I am experiencing. I do not want to weigh him down with my difficulties. I fear it will be Too Much, and he will grow weary of me and walk away. As is his right. 

What kind of person am I, if the only thing I have to offer is my sorrow and rage and pining loneliness right now? I have nothing to serve guests at my table except a scalding and bitter tea. I am trying to listen, and support, and Do For Others, as I have always done before (and, in better times, as I have liked to do). Nothing grows in my garden, though, when it is watered only by tears. 

-----

When I arrived to the location of the Fair, there were only two cars in the large parking lot, and not a person in sight. The table in the gateway of the park, where normally the welcome people sit at events, had a handful of painted rocks and a few fliers in plastic upon it. The calendar of events nearby mentioned the Fair and other events, but there was not a soul to be seen.  Only a tumbleweed would have made the scene more picturesque in its emptiness.

It seemed.... apropos, somehow. 

I took a walk through the park. It was quiet, breezy, not too warm. Nice. I admired the sculptures, which I'm not sure I've ever seen in broad daylight before. And I looked for wildlife. I saw a few ducks, several lizards, and a very nice spiderweb.

It wasn't quite a grief support group. But it was, in its own way, a good respite from the Grief.

Mother's Day Tortoise

Teeny Tiny. 

Oh Deer

At the park, this week. 

Delightful.