Super-JB (we loveses our precious, yes we do) is at work right now, so I’m noting down random things:
I have gotten tan, and I’m not even in M’sia yet (go Cali). My, is it apparent that I’ve been wearing a halter-top.
You should definitely go to Turtle Talk with Crush if ever you have the chance. It is live, interactive, and hilarious.
“Well, there’s Squirt. . . Shel. . . Shelby. . . Sheldon. . . Shel-a-del-a-ding-dong. . . There’re the twins, Bill and Ted. . . the teens, Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, Raphael. . . .”—Crush, in reply to an audience question about the names of his 6400 kids.
Also a favorite: when he referred to a bawling audience baby as a “youngling practicing his dolphin cry.” Awesome.
Earlier that day, S had called me because Peepster would not step up to go back in his cage. Li’l misfit. Sin was better behaved, said S. If anything, I’d‘ve expected it to be the other way around. But S put me on speakerphone, and I told Peeps very clearly that he was to step up and behave, no biting, and ooooh, good bird! Later, S said that as soon as Peeps heard my voice, he must’ve thought, “Whoops, I better behave,” because he did what he was supposed to.
Myself, I’d like to think that he thought, “Hmm, okayyyyy. . . I guess if Mommy supports S and gives her the all-clear, then I’d better accept S’s word, then.” ‘Cause I don’t think he’s given her any trouble after that.
First it’s been snowing, now it’s been blowing (wind, that is). But spring is in my bones. I can feel it, and it makes me happy.
At one point last week, ze birdies discovered (and demanded the enjoyment of) the edge of my art-desk. Usually when I’m drawing, Sin sleeps on my lap while Peeps does whatever-the-heck-he-does underneath the desk. This time, though, I placed them on top of the art-desk.
(Note that this is one of the rare instances when Sin is not petrified by bright blue plastic, but the only reason for that is because most of the blue is covered up by drawing paper).
They liked it so much that instead of demanding to go on my lap like she usually does, Sin demanded to get on the desk. They seem to have forgotten the attraction since, though. But it was cute while it lasted.
Here you see them at various points:
a) just perching and enjoying the view
b) Peeps starting to serenade Sin
c) Peeps continuing to serenade Sin, except the latter grows bored and distracted (you can see the expression on her face: “Ooo, look, paper to chew on!”)
d) Sin perched on the precariously tilted rule
e) Sin back to chewing, while Peeps takes a break from chewing to scratch his neck with one leg and yawn (yes, they are such acrobats. You should see Sin hang upside down)
f) close-up of Peepsy and paper
g) Sin’s turn to scratch
h) and at this point I decided it was time to take them off the art-desk, because the look in Sin’s eyes (“heyyyyyy, what’s that?”) showed that only mischief will ensue now. Think of it as a subtler version of waving-robot-arms going, “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!”
For those of you unfamiliar with ze birdies, that’s Sin on my shoulder, while Peeps is in the middle of a WHOOSHy-fluff on my arm.
By now, Sin is old-hat with me taking pics of her. Sometimes I think she deliberately stops what she’s doing to pose. I remember one instance when she was being all protective over her eggs — grah-grah-dragon-hiss to chase us out of the room — when I whipped out my camera to capture her in mid-hiss. She promptly stopped hissing, cocked her head to one side, and looked up at the lens as if she was the most well-behaved thing there is.
Peeps has only just recently gotten used to the camera. Or at least he appears to be. The last time I took his pic, he didn’t give his quivering whimper-chirp, that “What is that? What is that? What are you doing to me?” He’s growing in a lot of ways now. He’s less uncertain and more sure of himself, and there are times when he takes the initiative to satisfy his curiosity. Sin is usually the one leading the expedition to mischief, but Peeps is slowly coming into his own. Considering four years ago he wasn’t hand-tamed and was terrified of hands, he now demands to have a share of my din-dins at night.