Seed

I bought a new bird feeder a few weeks ago, one specifically designed to ward off the squirrels — it has a motorized perch that spins when activated by weight. (The birds are light enough not to trip the mechanism.) One of the more clever of the squirrels learned to hang upside-down from the corner of the house to access the feeder without causing the perch to spin, so I had to hang it further out. (This has not, however, deterred one of the deer, who uses her tongue. But I don't think she visits all that often, certainly not enough to make a substantial difference.)

I am startled to discover how much seed the birds go through in just a few days! I always thought it was the squirrels that were eating most of the seed — now I think it's the finches. I have a feeder just for them, full of thistle seed, but they seem to prefer the mix that I buy for the chickadees, titmice, and nuthatches. (I suspect they're picking out everything to find seed they prefer, and dropping the rest to the ground.)

Say Yes

I was listening to a fascinating interview this afternoon about the scientific approach to persuading people to do what you want them to. One of the conclusions, proven time and again, was that people tend to follow a crowd. If you want to convince people to do something, the best way to do so is to convince them that everyone else is doing it.

That rarely works for me. In fact, that's almost certain to convince me otherwise.

Mr. Sketch

While shopping for school supplies yesterday, I rediscovered a wonderful forgotten memory from my childhood — a box of Mr. Sketch markers! I remember these from Elementary school — each color has it's own distinctive scent. (The black smells of licorice, the dark green smells like apple, the orange is orange, and so on.) Only the licorice and cinnamon seem familiar — many of the others seem different, somewhat stronger, more like chemicals or perfume than I recall (though that could be because the markers are so new).

I still haven't figured out why the light blue is supposed to be "mango."

School Supplies

The school has sent a long list of items to be purchased for the coming year — but we're comfortable here with no particular place to go, so we may not get to it today. (There's still more than a week before school begins.)

I don't remember having to bring all this stuff in when I started First Grade — but it has been 37 years, and my memory just isn't what it used to be.

Crickets

I'm listening to the crickets outside this evening. There haven't been nearly as many frogs about the pond as there were last year, but I still hear them from time to time, often after a heavy rain.

As much as I'm looking forward to Autumn, and cool weather, I think it's the sounds I enjoy most about Summer. I've been thinking of making a recording, to have something to inspire me when the skies of March are at their most dull.

Bulk Trash

Bulk trash was picked up this week, an overdue opportunity for me to clear out the garage, again. I'm divided on this subject — I try very hard to be conscious of the amount of waste I'm responsible for (and I've been doing so long before it became fashionable for idle suburbanites with too much time on their hands to, say, have a small compost bin in their backyard, so they could delude themselves into believing this was somehow making a difference). But the chance to rid myself of the unnecessary clutter that has accumulated through the years — most of that from my wife — is just too difficult to resist.

Perhaps it all balances out — someone up the street had thrown out a not-too-old wooden desk that just needs a bit of sanding and a new coat of stain, and perhaps a coat of varnish to make it attractive once more. It now sits in my newly organized garage, where it will become either an occasional project or a temporary obsession. Watch this space.

Crayons

I love the smell of crayons. I found several boxes that had been packed away (while cleaning out the garage), one that appears to be twenty years old — the crayons are still bright and colorful and aromatic.

Weekend

I think I've become a person who looks forward to the weekend being over, to the house being quiet and peaceful again. Of course, it's often a complete mess on Monday morning, but perhaps this is the price that has to be paid.

Unimaginable

A friend of mine has had to make the decision to remove his son's life support after a long illness. I cannot imagine making a decision like that — I hope I'll never, ever have to.

Fever

My son has spent most of this day in bed with a high fever, feeling listless. He'll miss the last day of summer school, and his day at camp. But I'm enjoying the time we're spending together — he gets sort of quiet and much more settled when he's not feeling well.

Screen Door

Among the odd occurrences that have happened to me over the last year or so, this is by far the most charming. A raccoon — at least, I think it was a raccoon — has tried to open (or perhaps remove!) the sliding screen door in the back on two separate occasions. No harm was done, as the glass door behind it was closed, but I have to fix the screen door, and get it back on its' track.

I see quite a bit of the raccoons in the evening — more often than not with their offspring, who are playful and adorable.

They eat the birdseed that's been dropped from the feeder, or the food that's been left for the squirrels (to persuade them to leave the bird feeder alone), or even the dry cat food that I leave out for them, every so often. At times, they'll come up to the window and peer in through the glass. There have been occasions where the glass door has been left open, and the screen was all that kept the raccoons from getting in, but they never seem to bother with it then. Perhaps one of them enjoys a challenge.

Contact

I heard from two people (under different circumstances) I used to work with today, people I haven't seen or spoken with in years.

I have a habit of leaving people behind as I travel through life — even people I've shared a great deal with, cared a great deal for. It's a bad habit I have, I suppose, of never looking back for much longer than a glance.

Many, many years ago, I rekindled a brief correspondence with an old girlfriend I'd lost touch with years before — she had been married and divorced, and had a daughter who was 11 months old. I still think about her from time to time. Having since been through a similar experience, I've come to understand that I had no idea what she was going through.

I did some research a year or two ago, and managed to find (what I'm fairly certain is) her address. I've been meaning to write to her again.

Dark

I'm in the middle of the woods. It's the dark of night. Light, thin clouds are streaked across a starry sky, and I am listening to the crickets and frogs (and whatever else is making this wonderful noise). I feel lonesome, yet I am enjoying the solitude.

Teatown

They ran out of adulit-sized Teatown Summer Camp shirts this year. I am so disappointed — they were orange!

3G

A few things you should know about me: I can be impatient. And I often act on spontaneous whims. And I get very excited by tech toys. That's more or less what happened yesterday.

I bought a new iPhone. It wasn't a necessary purchase by any means, even less so than when I bought my initial iPhone, almost a year ago. And I'd been putting it off — we don't have 3G coverage in the area, so there didn't seem to be much point in paying for it. I've been quite curious about the GPS features, but not so much so that I wanted to be a part of the hours-long wait in line during that first week. Then they sold out.

And then, they came back in stock. A day, maybe two, was as long as I could resist. Once I got the idea in my head that I wanted one, after all, there was just no getting rid of it. Unfortunately, the wait was only slightly better. What was estimated at a half-hour quickly (though not quickly enough) became 90 minutes. (My experiences with Apple's Retail Stores are usually much more pleasant than this.)

But I've had the most fun watching that pulsating blue ball follow my path as I drove up the street. I am completely, inexplicably excited by the idea that my phone is communicating with satellites. (I told my six-year-old about this, but he doesn't think it's quite as fascinating as I do.)

What came as an especially pleasant surprise was that we do seem to have 3G coverage in this area, despite AT&T's claims to the contrary. (Perhaps it's better I didn't know that before now.)

Entropy

Have you ever had a moment — just a fraction of a second — when it seemed that everything ceased to exist? Like a record that skips, but you have this odd feeling that you've missed more than just a part of the song you were listening to?

Wallet

Expert opinion differs on the age of my current wallet — it may have been a gift from the mid 1980s, or a purchase I made before a trip to Baja California at the beginning of 1990. It's held up well in the (many) years since, but has been showing signs of wear for as long as I can remember — the velcro is tattered and worn, and it doesn't really hold the wallet properly closed. One of the compartments has opened, though not so much so that I'm in imminent danger of losing any of the important but unnecessary memorabilia I've accumulated as the years have passed.

I bought a new wallet today — it was less an impulse purchase than one made in a hurry, mostly because I just happened to be passing through that section of the store. As I began the ceremonial transfer from one wallet to another — it's similar to an official transfer of power, but without any spoken oaths — I quickly came to realize that this new one wouldn't hold half of what I have in my current wallet, and I'd have to make some difficult choices. (I don't really need the transit passes I used in London in 1992, do I?) This wallet wouldn't even hold a mere fraction of the completely pointless stuff I like to carry with me.

Old business cards, notes and receipts. (I have a fading receipt from Burger King that had me having paid $2,000, and receiving $1,992.13 in change.) Old pennies. A penny that had been flattened when run over by a commuter train. The blank dime that (I think) was never properly stamped. The key to an old can of SPAM. (Do they even have keys these days?) An old voter registration card. An airline boarding pass. A train ticket. My membership card for the "Freakies" Fan Club. My "Batman" credit card (from 1966).

But more than that, it's been so many years that I've become accustomed to this particular arrangement of the pockets and compartments. I know where everything is (in the unlikely event I ever need any of it). I think what I need is to find is my old wallet, all over again. Until that happens, I suppose I'll continue to slowly, inevitably wear away the one I have.

Six

My son turned six this week.

He's quite curious about the world around him, and in the past few months I've noticed the questions he asks have become more sophisticated (if you can imagine that of a six year old). His sense of humor has become more distinctly his own. He's very bright and imaginative ― perhaps even a bit ahead of his peers, intellectually. And he has surprising moments of self-awareness.

But he's still working his way through emotions, frustrations and anxieties that other children his age are already past. It's difficult for me to know where he fits ― I have only limited experience with children his age (I came to know and dearly love a boy who was just a year older, with a diagnosis similar to my son, but he had difficulties all his own), and children all develop so differently, so I'm not often sure what's reasonable behavior to expect from a child his age. I have to go by my instinct.

There's the concern that this mix of maturity and immaturity ― a bit like his Dad, really! ― will make things increasingly difficult for him at school. But he's been doing well in a special, smaller class, and he's slowly being introduced to traditional classes, with his peers. And he's been attending school this summer, to avoid any regression. (Perhaps he'll have a chance to enjoy the unstructured days away from school I remember so fondly when he's older.) I was uncertain at first, but I've come to have a great deal of confidence in the school.

Last weekend, I put away the bed he has outgrown. This weekend, we replaced the bike he has outgrown.

Bicycle Path

After the early afternoon rain, it turned out to be a wonderful day for my son to try out his new bike. (He had outgrown the old one, you might remember.)