Praying mantis

I came back from an errand yesterday and saw this baby praying mantis by my back door. It let me get very close to it and take a picture before climbing up the siding and out of sight. I couldn't sleep last night and started thinking about the mantis, wishing I could migrate into its body. Then I started researching them and this is what I found.

The praying mantis is named for its prominent front legs, which are bent and held together at an angle that suggests the position of prayer. ...They have triangular heads poised on a long "neck," or elongated thorax. Mantids can turn their heads 180 degrees to scan their surroundings with two large compound eyes and three other simple eyes located between them.

Female praying mantises apparently bite the head off the male after copulation. Although I have been accused of feminism, this strikes me as a bit too radical, even for a flaming bra burner. So maybe I will pick another animal to carry my soul.

Sunday's Coming

I have Chelsea to thank/blame for this hilarious movie trailer. As she said, it's pretty true to life (unfortunately).

For the birds

As I was resting on the sofa in the family room this afternoon, I heard a crunching noise and realized that both of our birds were eating, even though they are in separate cages. I don't know whether it was because it was time for them to eat or whether they liked to eat together. We have two birds: Wally, a cockatiel, and Paco, a golden-collared mini macaw.

We got Wally for Chelsea and originally thought the bird was a boy (thus the name). We realized that it was a girl when one day I looked in her cage and saw an egg on the floor. I was amazed because I thought that you had to have a male and female for this to happen, which obviously was not the case. Eventually the poor bird had 12 eggs, which she attempted to sit on and cover with the wings. We felt sorry for her since the eggs would never turn into baby cockatiels and started sneaking them out of her cage. Wally quit laying eggs, but she still is very affectionate and watches me carefully, climbing up her cage when I come near. I open up the top and stick my hand in and she nuzzles up against it, closes her eyes and gives me little bird kisses.



Paco, the mini macaw, has been with us about seven years. He has a beautiful green coat and a blue undercoat and he can say a couple of dozen words pretty clearly. However, he only talks when Chelsea is around, then he lets loose with a string of words: hello, goodbye, peekaboo, woo, etc. He will even put his head into his food bowl and talk sometimes, making a weird echoing noise. Paco is very smart, but also cantankerous. When we first got him he seemed friendly, but now if I get near his cage, he comes toward me with an open beak like he is going to bite me. Usually when Ron gets him out, he flies over to the dining room table and then runs around it on the floor followed by Ron until he is caught. He will ride docilely on Ron's shoulder, but he doesn't look like he enjoys it.

Family

Lately I have been impressed by the importance of family in my life and since I stopped working, family has become more important.

My youngest daughter, Chelsea, left yesterday for a week and a half visiting friends and going to camp with her boyfriend's family. She will have a wonderful time (and she is 21 and very able to take care of herself) but I will miss her. She has been a great help to me, both physically and emotionally. It's her last year at college and probably the last summer she will be living at home.

Family has been a part of my life in other ways too. Tuesday night Ron, Chelsea and I met my older daughter Emily and her fiancé Jake for dinner at a nice restaurant here in town. Emily is 25 and a successful accountant and Jake is an up-and-coming realtor. They're planning a wedding next fall that I am helping with and it's keeping me busy. Part of me wishes the wedding weren't so far in the future, because I'm not sure about the progression of this disease, but another part is relishing the renewed closeness with Emily.

As I develop a new identity separate from work, my family has become increasingly important, and that's as it should be.

"A happy family is but an earlier heaven."
George Bernard Shaw

Sorting books at the library

Each Monday I spend two and half hours at the Rochester library. I've only done it for a couple of weeks, so I'm not sure what I'll end up doing, but right now I help out with donations.

On a busy week, the library receives hundreds of donated books, DVDs, and VHS tapes from readers, people who are moving, children who are getting rid of a deceased parent's possessions. I really had no idea that many donations came in, and I'm ashamed to say that I have donated books myself. I thought that they were needed (and perhaps some of them will be put into the collection), but processing the donations takes time and effort from the library staff that should be spent on library work.

I volunteered to come in one day a week as a member of the Friends of the Rochester Public Library to help process the donations. As a former "would be" librarian who has always loved books, I like the work. Plus, I thought it would be a good thing to be in the company of others.

I do whatever they need, and so far that has meant I either sort through the donations and box them up in specific categories or try to find the donations on the library catalog database. If the library already has the book in its collection, the staff checks to see if their copy is in better shape than the one that was donated. If they don't have a copy, as is often the case, then they decide whether or not to add it to the collection.

It's interesting work and I can see by the donations the type of books people like. I came across a whole set of Baby Einstein DVDs and a stack of novels that tried to imitate the inimitable Jane Austen. I took a look inside one of them and found that the style of writing was Austenesque while the plot was more on the level of a bodice-ripper. Kind of disgusting. Oh well, it's probably someone's cup of tea.

Jazz in Bloom and book group

The Dana-Thomas House Foundation event Jazz in Bloom was held on Saturday night, and I was a stationary guide in the living room. This meant that I got to be seated while people wandered through, answering any questions they might have. There weren't many people that came through (most were in the courtyard, listening to jazz and drinking wine), but the ones that did were interested and it was fun to talk to them about the house. Since I haven't given tours at for a couple of years now because of all the stairs, it was great to be back inside again. The volunteer coordinator is very thoughtful and makes sure that I participate in events like this.

Sitting in the living room among the Wright-designed tables and chairs (I wasn't sitting in one though), I watched the sun go down and the room change its aspect. It seemed more intimate lit by the wall sconces and art-glass lamps. I could almost imagine living here or coming as a guest to one of Mrs. Dana's parties.

I had time to think about the play at the house based on my novel Water and Fire, and I talked to the volunteer coordinator about how it might be staged. I'm getting very excited about the whole production and I think she shares this feeling. It will be fun to write!

On Sunday, my book group met to discuss Anna Karenina. The woman who hosted has a pool and she invited those of us who wanted to swim to come early. Even though I can't swim anymore, I came early with a couple of friends and thanks to their help, I was able to get into the water and enjoy the pool. The women in the group are the nicest I have ever met and would do just about anything to help me. I would have had to drop out of the group before now but for their cheerful assistance.

The discussion, led by a new member of the group, was excellent. Some of us thought Anna was foolish; others that she was a victim of society. A wonderful evening!

St. Louis and an MRI

We went to St. Louis yesterday for my semiannual appointment with my neurologist. She is great and I trust her implicitly, but I think she feels bad because there is really nothing she can do to help me. She was very happy that I had not progressed (deteriorated) since my last visit. After the appointment, I was taken for a clinical trial that involved an MRI and cognitive testing.

Magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) is nothing new to me. I have had so many that I have lost count. During an MRI you are laid down on a table, your head is fastened in place by a kind of helmet, and you are pushed into a long tube. The machine emits loud noises which are sometimes drowned out by whatever music you are listening to on the headphones (yesterday my choice was classic rock eg oldies). After anywhere from 20 minutes to three hours, you are pulled out and sent on your way. The images are magnetic in nature and can spot problems in your brain and spine, kind of like x-rays.

You would think that after so many MRIs I would be an expert; however, I guess I'm not medical enough, because this is about the extent of my knowledge. Some people are freaked out by MRIs because they're claustrophobic and have to be given sedatives. This is not my case and I see them as an opportunity to relax and even sleep. The high point of getting an MRI has to be when, just before you are pushed unto the tube, you are offered a warm blanket by the friendly technician. Boy, does that feel good!

The MRI wan't bad (see above) but the cognitive testing sucked. Somehow I have managed to escape this very annoying procedure thus far, but yesterday I was subjected to the tests, the worst of which involved remembering and adding numbers that a recorded male voice rattled off at an alarming speed (doubtless HE was reading a script).

After that ordeal we treated ourselves to lunch and shopping at that mecca called the Galleria. A decadent chocolate and banana drink from Godiva topped off a long day.