~ Queen Grace with friends Billi, left, and Mary Jo ~

Thursday 24 March 2005
9:09 a.m.

It was my first night alone in this house, and as silly as I knew it to be, I was just a wee bit spooked.

Excuse me while I get this lovebird off my shoulder. He’s squawking in my ear, and it makes them ring. Or he’s nibbling too hard on my earlobe, or my neck. He wants me to pet and snuggle with him, while I want him to sit quietly and observe. He’s actually not bad company in that he’s willing to interact; but constantly, so it’s distracting.

There, he’s quieted down, maybe I can carry on without caging him again.

The house has an alarm system so I knew there was no one getting in — oh now the bird’s on my knee, which is bent up in front of my chest — but it was so still and so empty that when I burrowed under the blankets on the bed I had to turn on the TV for some human comfort. The history channel had a show about — now he’s pecking at the keyboard and my fingers — I give up, it’s my attention he wants and he’s not about to give up, it seems. Some cuddling is in order.

The history channel has endless interesting stuff; so does the Knowledge Network. Between those two I could watch a lot of TV if I got into the habit.

I’ve managed to interest Birdy in some papers so he won’t be shitting in the keyboard — oh no, he’s back again — now I've set a tin box in front of the monitor for him to perch on — it won’t do either, he isn’t called a lovebird for nothing I guess. Onto my shoulder he goes, and there he sits, preening. I get a break.

Yesterday I finished cutting out the last pieces for my quilt. The other day at Mom’s we went through her fabric for cloth to make her next project, and I saw where my own love of fabric comes from. She’d pick up a certain piece and hold it to her breast, stroking the cloth and saying “I love this one!” Some she loves so much she’s kept, rather than make anything, because she gives most everything away and doesn’t want to part with it.

I’ve been this way, but with pictures and graphics either cut out of magazines or found on greeting cards and boxes, or paper. These visual treasures were hoarded for 20 years and finally displayed on a long wall, where I can admire them every time I pass by. How to do that with fabric I’m not sure.

Mom has been up and around a lot since the hypnotherapist was over, and while the session didn’t have the total effect I was hoping for, Mom is satisfied. There is actually much improvement, and whether that is because the radiation side effects are finally gone, or because the doctor upped her dose of methodone a little bit, or because of hypnotic suggestion, we of course don’t know. Most likely it’s all three. At any rate, there is now no pain, just a tightness around the chest that the doctor attibutes to anxiety.

Oh dear, he’s chewed on the edge of the mousepad. That can’t be healthy for a bird. Back in the cage he must go.

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