Bird Teenagers

Bird teenagers. You've got to love them. They talk back, are disrespectful and think they know everything. I'm not even sure they appreciate everything you do for them.

This immature White Ibis is in the prime of its life and in fine form. Soon all of the brown feathers will turn to white, and he will officially be a man. He looks like a Ricky. Totally a Ricky. And so cooperative Ricky was in allowing me to take a few glamour shots at Robinson Preserve this morning. One day, he will look back on this day and understand what I tried to do for him.

2 Entertainment Recommendations & 3 Unnecessary Objects

With less than 45 minutes to go, I've made it to the daily blog post. And I have only 4 short comments:

1. See Sarasota Ballet's performance of Contact at the Asolo. The first part is a little weird, but it's uphill from there and the dancing is extraordinary. Makes me wish I was a dancer and not such a klutz.
   
2. If you're headed to a business meeting, hey, can you do me a favor? Leave your boobs behind some cotton, polyester, silk or wool. They're called clothes. And they're considered "traditional" for a reason. I was appalled by someone's...overexposure...during a gathering of professionals today. I've never been to a strip joint (or care to), but I have a feeling what it might look like after today's showing.
   
3. Kier, the musician/comedian visiting McCurdy's Comedy Theatre this week, is talented and hilarious. Can't go wrong there. You can still catch him at McCurdy's through Sunday.
   
4. Please, if you have a big head, consider, just consider, sitting in the back of the room. This week my view has been obstructed by large craniums at least 3 times. I know it's not their fault, but it's not mine either. I'm only 5'2". All I'm saying is just think about it.

Project 180

Tonight I'm headed to McCurdy's Comedy Theatre for a few laughs with friends. What brings me there is a new nonprofit called Project 180. Now let me say this. The words "new" and "nonprofit" in the same sentence usually give me a stomach ache.

Introducing my soapbox...

Look, there is a vast world of nonprofits out there doing incredible things. And there is a vast world of nonprofits duplicating missions and disguising egos as good work. So when a "new" one comes around, it's often not a good thing...it's the sign of another organization doing something that another organization is already doing better.

But Project 180 is different. Right from the beginning, I was amazed at founder Barbara Richards, with her amazing energy, drive and commitment to a mission that many people do not care about. She also did her homework. No one else is doing it here. And she's moved me to care about something that's normally not on my Top 5 list--proof that the person who leads an organization can be just as powerful as its mission.

So what is Project 180, you ask? It seeks to re-integrate ex-offenders into community life. Why is it important? Even if you may not have the compassion to care about someone who managed to make a mistake (like we are all capable of at times), this mission is one that will help to keep you and your family safe, change behaviors for the long term and embrace the possibility of forgiveness.

I love it. Looking forward to some inspiring words from Barbara tonight.

Social Media Time Warp

Can I just say that things have seemed a little social media weird lately?

I mean, honestly, Facebook, how many times are you going to pull some backwards change on us just to make sure we’re left trying to figure out something new about you? Cute. It’s like a man who you’ve been dating for a few months, who you’re just getting to like and understand. And bam! Then he goes and pulls some stupid crap just to convince you that you really don’t know him (and that he’s a big piss ant). Isn’t this behavior so…last decade?

That reminds me—I’m glad I’m married.

And New Year’s. What about it, you say? A St. Petersburg-based group I started following on Twitter yesterday responded with a direct message wishing me a Happy New Year's Eve. Since I had, in fact, locked myself in my office all day to get some things done, I really started thinking, “My God. Have I been in here for two months?” I actually picked up the phone and called someone (also in the office) just to check.

I changed tactics today and decided to work from home. Interesting way to spend New Year's Day.

The Emergency

Life on this planet nearly came to a grinding halt this morning when the cable appeared to be down at 94-year-old-Grandfather's house in North Carolina. In mere seconds, the sinking feeling of an impending disaster was given life by the possibility of missed episodes of Jerry Springer, Maury Povich and Tyra Banks.

Moments after she dialed a panicked phone call to Parents in Florida, the caretaker realized that hitting the "input" button on the remote provided the anecdote.

The near-tragedy was as real and in-your-face as the shows themselves. But in seconds, like magic, that pit of terror was replaced with relief. Aaaah, there is goodness in this world.

The remote is the giver and taker of life...and the herald of all emergencies and emergency operators.

When things seem bad, at least you don't have BIID

While I was working on a painting yesterday, I was listening to a television program about a man who believes his own leg is not really part of him and wants to amputate it. This named disorder is referred to as Body Integrity Identity Disorder. Hm. I’d never heard of it.

The gentleman flew to San Francisco from Australia so a team of scientists (who seemed to be afflicted with some disorder themselves) performed various tests in an effort to make him accept his leg. These extremely scientific tests included flooding his ear with fluid and holding a mirror up to his “accepted” leg so it looked like he had two of those. Apparently, it did briefly make the amputation desire slightly less intense for him—probably resulting from being dizzy as hell and pissed that he had flown thousands of miles for THAT.

Wow. Just when you think things are heavy in your life…

Did you notice that I began this post by making sure to mention that I was conducting another activity while I listened to this little broadcast? It’s true. And I wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t devote my undivided attention to this narrative. Does this come with a disorder name?

Halloween Memories

This kicks off an entire month of blogging every day: NaBloPoMo. It's my first year of participating. (Check out Uncommon Blonde & Pines Lakes Redhead too!) I'm hoping things don't degenerate from here as I'm forced to reflect on the daily minutia. But what better way to start than with a few Halloween memories, including my musings from trick-or-treating days and last night's mannerless kids.

Husband and I stayed in last night to pass out candy and watch scary movies. Once again I arrive at the same realization: I cannot watch horror flicks without lingering visualizations of blood and gore. I just can't do it. (So thank you, The Haunting in Connecticut and Halloween. I will have nightmares for the rest of the year.)

Our young visitors fit the trending generalization we hear of with today's kids wanting something for nothing. They don't even say "trick-or-treat" anymore, for God's sake. That's all you're supposed to do to get a freaking handout. What's that all about?

According to my mother on the other coast, she was told by several kids and (a mom who was collecting for a kid who couldn't muster the strength to get out of the car) that they "didn't like that kind." Shut UP. They didn't. Really.

I remember being extremely satisfied with any Halloween house visit as long as it didn't include a piece of fruit, a mini toothbrush, a quarter or those skanky Mary Janes. Admittedly, I was never a fan of candy corn either. But of course I never DREAMED of turning something down or not saying thank you!

After filtering through D-Man's 2,877 pound pillowcase full of candy last night, it hit me how totally ungrateful our culture is over here. I feel like my elders when I pull out the "starving kids in Africa" lines, but seriously. How disgusting is it that kids complain about not getting the type of CANDY they want from a complete stranger? Do they realize all we have to be grateful for?

I swear the next month of daily posts will be more upbeat, positive and not so rant-like. Thanks for letting me get my Halloween party pooper out.