Beware of grateful Macedonians bearing expensive cognac and Cuban cigars... Especially on weeknights.

There's a bird that apparently has a nest in the bushes close to my office window. Every morning at about the same time, he comes up to the ledge next to the intersection of two of my windows, and spends about 5 minutes jumping up at the window and pecking it. I guess the explanation, according to bird experts, is that he believes that his reflection is actually another bird, and he's attacking it to keep it away from his nesting area.

The thing that I find intriguing, though, is that he comes by at the same time each day. What is it about this time that draws him up to the ledge? Is it an after-breakfast thing? (Daily agenda: 6:00am - 8:29am: wake up, preen, fly around, eat bugs, preen, poop, check on nest, preen; 8:30am - 8:34am - butt beaks with turf-skirtin' playa... ugly punk-ass tweety, be frontin' wit' me every damn day like he's all that, stupid cat-bait muthafucka... 8:35am - sit on window-ledge and poop - preen - go eat more bugs…). I could set my watch by this budgie. At any rate, he doesn't seem to be doing much damage to either himself or the window, and it's kind of a nice little routine, so I haven't done anything to dissuade him yet.

Sorry about the lack of recent contact. Until I get the gumption to update for real, I offer you this tidbit from a recent Jabber conversation between me and Wee:

T: Ack, just had an "Office Space" moment - R. walked up and said, "What's happenin'?"
W: run!!!
W: get out before you die!!!
T: He said it in that same tone of voice too,
which was the bad part. "Whuuuut's happenin?"
W: I think he's actually a monster from space that wants to eat you. He was just sizing you up so he know what kind of pot to bring.
T: Think so? Now I'm nervous.
W: I'd be wary.
T: Perhaps I should procure some alien repellant.
W: see, my theory is that he learned how to communicate from TV signals that leaked out from space. Since Office Space is a workplace movie, the Alien Rich would know that and mimic that boss to interact with you in a disarming fashion
W: It's like that Mork and Mindy episode.
T: You may be on to something there. He seemed really interested in the parts of the negotiating with suppliers seminar that taught you how to "mirror" other people's personalities to gain their confidence, and the bit about being a "paid professional actor".
W: See?
T: Ah man, now I'm worried.
W: I think he's after your glands
T: I don't want to have my glands eaten!
W: the aliens only like choices morsels. That's why cows are only disfigured, not eaten.
T: They pick out the tasty bits and toss the rest?
W: Uh huh.
W: It's evil.
W: The humanity!
T: Oh, the hohwah! I have to warn the others!
W: Da hohwah!!!
T: Although, if the alien took my ovaries, I wouldn't have to go see any more chick flicks...

The city of Avalon on Catalina Island is one of the best places I've ever vacationed. Bill and I went there for our first wedding anniversary, and this past weekend my excellent husband made all the travel arrangements for us to return for my birthday. We caught a boat out of Dana Point just north of Camp Pendleton, which is a lot quicker than driving all the way up to Long Beach. The weather was beautiful. We played with Bill's GPS on the way over and watched the water fooming off the hull in bright white sprays.

After we arrived and got checked into our hotel, we rented a golf cart - that's the main form of transport for locals on the island, as well as tourists - and cruised on up on the "scenic route" in the hills above the harbor. We managed to take a wrong turn up a street that we weren't supposed to be on and almost got creamed by a tourist bus, but we survived… It was a hell of a lot of fun to zip around on the cart, check out the expensive houses at the top of the island, and look out over the harbor and the sea.

We also stopped by the Casino, Catalina's main large-event locale - a large multi-levelled cylinder with a tile roof and some of the most gorgeous art-deco murals and décor I've ever seen. The murals on the outside wall - stylized underwater scenes - are exactly the style of art I would make if I had sufficient imagination and talent. Being at the Casino reminds me of being in Norwich Cathedral. I can't find words to describe that feeling without sounding trite and Hallmarky - there's just a strange sense of peace I get from both places. After we returned the cart, we applied ourselves enthusiastically to marinating our livers via tropical libations at a couple of different bars on the waterfront; I sorta remember getting back to the hotel.

The next day found us up early, but with fairly significant hangovers. Troopers that we are, however, we rallied and scouted up breakfast, then walked down to the rentals pier and bought tickets for an underwater "semi-submarine" fish-watching tour. The sub was cool - you sit about 5 feet underwater, and look through huge convex portholes with red "torpedo" buttons which, for $1.00 a pop, you could press to shoot little food pellets into the water to attract more fish to your window. Enticements weren't really necessary, though - I guess the fish learn pretty quickly that the boat is a mobile snack machine, because they swarm it consistently. There were hundreds of them - smelts that looked like monster versions of the neons I used to keep in a tank; dinner-plate sized gray fish called opal-eyes; spiky, ugly (but probably tasty) calico bass; and a smattering of the bright marigold-colored garabaldis the island is renowned for. They all live in the giant kelp forests that stretch up 40 feet or more from the ocean floor - great bursting plumes of sunlit silver-speckled green fronds, wafting gently in the tide. (The next time I need a moment of Zen, that's the scene that I'll be calling up from the mental archives). At one point, as if on cue, a sea lion swam past our windows, and he seemed to grin at us as he oscillated by (yeah, I know their faces always look that way - but I don't guess he'd mind the characterization). After the tour, we decided to rent a peddleboat and tool around the harbor. It was cool to be out on the water, but we got hot and tuckered out pretty quickly (reference hangover comment from above).

After lunch we bought a couple of books and basically hung out like lazy lumps on the pier for the rest of the afternoon, reading or just watching the people and boats and birds. Our boat home left an hour before sunset. As we waited to board, we noticed two sea lions swimming in the water right in front of us. Then, to everyone's amazement, they began scaring up flying fish - and damned if those fish don't actually fly in the air with those whizzing fins of theirs, in some cases 100 feet or more before they dive back in the water. They don't seem to have much directional control, though - they just go straight until they can't go any farther. One of them hit the dock with a resounding thunk - I suspect he became sea lion chow shortly thereafter. Adding to the last-minute wildlife exhibition, about a half-hour into the trip, Bill noticed something in the waves - we realized it was fins, then a dolphin came leaping up out of a wave; a pod of them had seen the boat and come over to check us out. I'd never seen dolphins in the sea before. We passed them all too quickly, but I looked back to see them leaping around in our wake, seeming to find it amusing. You can't make this kind of shit up without it sounding hokey; but in real life it was a cool finale for a most excellent weekend.