Another Example of Why I Hate Birds

(Photo: MSN.com)

In case you missed an earlier post on my fear and loathing of birds, I'll recap. My crazy grandmother insisted birds were evil. She was superstitious. For example, she believed someone close to you would die if a bird gets in your house. Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" didn't help but most of the blame falls to my grandmother.

(Toward the end of her life she actually owned a bird and would answer the door with the bird perched on her head. I have yet to reconcile this in my mind.)

Occasionally I can admire the beauty of your feathered friends from the safety of indoors but that's about it. I have had complete hysterical attacks if a bird gets close to me on a beach. Someone once asked me to go on a hike with her so we could experience bird watching. She did not know me well and I did not go.

Last week I watched in amazement as the survivors of the US Air plane that crash landed in the Hudson were rescued. It was a miracle and the pilot, Chesley Sullenberger (Sully), is truly a hero.

Of all my quirks and idiosyncrasies, fear of flying does not make the list. "Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. I have flown in commercial planes and private planes, teeny planes and jumbo jets. I flew the day they opened the skies after 9/11. (Yes, I looked for terrorists -- as if I would know how to identify one.)

Even with the bird threat, I would get on a plane today. But I will never take a hike to watch birds.

Hello Grandma

This morning I went to let the maniac dog outside and found a dead bird on my back stoop. You know how much I like birds. My windows are in serious need of cleaning so I have no idea how they can get confused enough to bash into them.

I felt a little prickle on the back of my neck. And not just because I will have to gather the courage to dispose of it. My superstitious grandmother thought a dead bird (or a wild bird that flies in your house) represents death.

About 30 minutes later, my mother called to inform me that her sister's husband had just lost his brother to an apparent heart attack.

I don't consider myself superstitious but hmmmm.

Friday the 13th

My crazy grandmother would not leave her house on Friday the 13th. She believed in many curses and superstitions. I tell myself that I'm not superstitious. But there's a little paranoia that creeps in.

I don't walk under ladders and I don't open an umbrella indoors. I like black cats but I get a little nervous when they cross my path. Birds are creepy to me; a bird in the house makes something fire in my brain -- someone is going to die. Thanks Grandma.

You can talk yourself into anything. I'm a prime example but that's a different post.

Kamikazi Birds

Birds are a sign of evil, at least that's what my wacky grandmother taught me. Then, she ended up owning a pet bird later in life. She would let Petie fly around her apartment and land on her head or arm. Go figure.

We have a tree in our back yard that produces some sort of wild berry. This is time of year when the berries ferment and fall. The birds go crazy eating them and then they get confused (or drunk) and fly repeatedly into windows. Bang! Sometimes they can shake it off and fly away. Other times, they bash their little heads and they die in my yard. Gabby thinks this is great fun so I must deal with their corpses. This causes me to squeal. I'm always hopeful houseboy is here or my dad will show up when I'm faced with this situation. Yes, I am a wimp.

But, when I have to do it, I can.

A Room with a View

My office is teensy. On top of that, it has two desks, two chairs and multiple filing cabinets. There are also dog toys so I'm regularly tripping over something or bashing into a corner of the desk. I love it anyway.

The windows face my back yard, which is in full bloom at this time of year. I can watch the dog romp. I can watch the birds from a safe distance. It's right off the kitchen so I can smell or hear if disaster strikes. I can eavesdrop on the oldies.

We renovated our home 10+ years ago. Originally this room, the bath and the laundry room were intended to be the maid's quarters. (Who does that?) We moved some doorways but for the most part, it's still the same. Since I do the laundry, it seems fitting that I spend most of my days (and some nights) in this part of the house.

Looking out the window makes me happy. Laundry does not.

Life Lists - Part One

A lot of people compose lists of goals they hope to accomplish in their lifetime. Climb Mt. Everest? Check. Visit every continent? Check. I understand the fascination with this to some degree. I love lists. I love the opportunity to cross something off my to-do list. It's a meager, yet meaningful, sense of completion.

I'm starting a new list, titled "Things I'll Never Do and Things I'll Never Do Again." (I'll let you figure out which ones I've never done and which ones I'll never do again.) My list begins with:

• Camping
• Wear braces
• Do any illegal substances
• Mow a lawn
• Get tattoos or piercings
• Date a married man
• Climb a mountain
• Swim a Channel
• Give birth
• Wear a high school gym uniform
• Ride a motorcycle
• Go to the circus -- the clowns give me the creeps
• Work for or with a raving lunatic
• Own a bird
• Take oldies into my home without an exit plan

I'm very excited about this project. I can type it out and whenever I feel like it, I can read it and say to myself, "Check it off; not going to do that!" Mission accomplished. Plus, I can add to it whenever I feel like it. I hope you'll make your own list.

Birds and Superstitions

I don't care for birds. They give me the creeps. I know they're beautiful and serve their purpose but they still make me a little crazy. Alfred Hitchcock didn't help but I mostly picked this up from my grandmother. She was very superstitious. A bird that accidentally flew into your house meant that someone close to you was going to die. There's an upper thought as you're running around your house with a broom trying to get the stupid creature to fly out.

I don't consider myself superstitious but I do feel the prickly hairs on the back of my neck when a black cat crosses my path or someone walks under a ladder. I think it's my grandmother saying, "I'm still here."

On vacation a few years ago, there was a child near me on the beach. He took great pleasure in throwing his chips in the air and all the seagulls would come flocking. My girlfriends were hysterical because I was having a meltdown. All of these birds swooping down! Hello, Alfred Hitchcock! Suddenly, I'm Tippi Hedren without the pretty hairdo. Not funny, Grandma!