Recently in Fly fly away Category

I was at the library the other day multitasking.
Because that's what libraries are for, right?

Writing recipes, looking for design inspiration while simultaneously reading TITANIC TRUCKS to the boy running through the stacked aisles. I was beginning to think that a vacation might be something to consider when all of the sudden books started screaming and jumping off the shelves -- dangerously missing my head... I grabbed Will and dove under the nearest table. The piles of books surrounded us as one manuscript fell open at my knees... it was Poe, "I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity." It was then that I realized that something needed to be done immediately... Because I have reached the final point, and this is it. I am dangerously approaching the end of my blogging quota.

Visualize this to be like filling a water balloon to capacity or eating copious amounts of McDonald's like this guy did a few years ago... only to result in weight gain, heart disease, ulcers and bad skin.... because what did he think was going to happen? I wonder if he wishes that he could go back and undo -- kind of like going back and picking through - deleting the bad blog posts while copying and saving the good ones for republishing possibilities... revitalizing the QUOTA. But oh the HUMANITY.

I started For the Birds on August 22, 2008. It was a slow start... and, although I never intended for this blog to turn into what it is now... it has been a journey like no other... similar to swimming across the Atlantic or leaving the space shuttle mid-universe to test out that gravity theory... floating aimlessly into DEEP SPACE. And if you know what this blog is about, then you're a hair-slight more genius than I, because I lost track a LOOOONG time ago. But I am missing the point.

What I am trying to inch out there is that I am now starting the tedious task of going back, judging myself and then deciding who gets to stay and who gets to go hang out at the pearly gates of archival heaven. But what do you think? If you are here, reading this right now -- If you wouldn't mind turning time off for a few minutes and letting me know if there are any posts that must stay live... Because beyond self-inflicted torture, I am my own souvenir. And I'm sure that isn't the first time I've said that.   

I left a note- I should be back in a day or two... they will be mad, but who could pass up an opportunity such as this? Tired, I didn't pack anything but a carry on... it's 4am in San Francisco... here I am, but it's way too early to ring the buzzer -- might wake the girls. Anyway, I'm 3 hours ahead... where can I find coffee? No. She might change her mind if I'm not here when she opens her door....continue

Last week I was out walking with my son and parents in my hometown. It wasn't too cold and it was before the storm of the century -- which just turned out to be a snow storm anyway... We walked over a familiar bridge that crosses over the local train line to Manhattan, and when we came to the top of the stairs to descend... it happened again. Dizzy, ears ringing... pull it together... you've stood in this same spot hundreds of times in your life... pull it in.. vision focused. Whew, panic attack averted... but for what?

A few years ago... wait, no - many years ago.. because, right? who am I kidding... We went to Bermuda in the off season. It was Marchish and the island was empty... with the exception of the locals--WHO HATED US. But being full of ourselves we were immune to noticing the discerning "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NOW" glances. Blame it on ignorance - we were on vacation and dammit, that island was OURS.

One night we were strolling along looking for a nice restaurant when we found the perfect establishment... through the windows we could feel the vibe pulling us in... a tiny little hole in the wall bistro.. people were laughing, the food looked awesome... it was as if there was a vacuum sucking us off the street--we read the menu outside... FIVE STARS -- And, open in March(ish). We entered... We entered only to be met by a woman that quickly escorted us out... "I couldn't possibly seat you without a reservation", as we eyed the many open tables.

Now. Mr. Sal did not care...  I, however, felt that if we didn't eat at this restaurant before leaving the island that the island would have defeated us... and please bare with me because I swear this post is going somewhere...  Clearly, we were not from there. Clearly, we were Yankees stomping the English land. But clearly we were not traipsing about in matching "BERMUDA!" tee shirts. Several calls were made - no answer. Time was desperate as we were flying out in a day or two. I felt severely NOT at ease. Finally, a man answered... "They don't take reservations because they are only open on a limited basis." WHAT? Firstly, what is with the word "THEY" as I quickly reeled back with dominate rapport -- the exact words the woman had tossed at us while showing us the curb. "What did she look like?" Oh -- and my tone softened as I described her as if she were standing in front of me. "Okay, I will make an exception - how about dinner at 9pm". SUCCESS.

That night, after a few cocktails, we floated down the cobbled street to what had been built up in my mind to be the most amazing eatery in the entire world... We entered... only to be greeted by the same woman glaring at us... "oh YOU". "THE GUESTS of HONOR". "We Saved our BEST Table for you!"... the sarcasm froze the room. Literally. The other diners stared... the wait staff froze mid-spoonage. Platisicized, we were lifted onto one of those music video conveyor belts and unwillingly displaced from the doorway to our table. "What CAN I GET YOU"... "Anything for YOU."  We wanted to get up and run out of what had now become Mrs. Lovett's pie shop on Fleet Street. But then... sigh... but then the chef appeared and explained that we had walked into a private party the evening before and that in her excitement, the owner -- that was leasing the space from another proprietor, had breached an agreement by uttering the word "reservation". That, in fact -- the restaurant was opened just for us -- hoping to fill the rest of the tables in the off-season month. DEFEAT.

The next day, having barely touched the food that we were sure had been laced with meth, we decided to do a bit of sight seeing... the air was crisp--sky bluer than blue. We climbed the lighthouse stairs to the small opening--Mr. Sal went straight out while I froze at the door. All I could see was the thinnest of thin wrought iron railing at about knees height... I envisioned myself falling... I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I pulled myself back inside and sat on the floor. Frozen. What was happening? I was not afraid of heights.

From that day forward I have had panic attacks at ranging heights... from the top of the stairs at the train station.. to cathedral ceilings... to mall escalators... to dunes. It had been only a few years before this experience that I enjoyed climbing numerous cathedral domes and leaned daringly over ledges while traveling in Europe... As I kid I freely leaped off cliffs into miniscule bodies of water... "Bowls" if you will. So, after evaluating and talking to the experts that seem to think that "vertigo" is a made up word that only pertains to the planet Mars... I have decided that I need to go back to Bermuda to apologize. Come full circle. Find the woman that I know is still damning me to this day... and explain the confusion. Lift her curse... This is the only way. 

I freaked a few people out yesterday -- check out Dufmanno's comment:

"Okay, that looks like the Native American Dorian Grey. Did this trip involve a visit from the guys from Paranormal State, a cleansing ritual and a mess of people apologizing for the colonization of the Americas? I am worried for you and the family."

The answer is no, she's just a Native American that someone painted on the wall... you know, that urge to paint women randomly on bedroom walls... right? Although I did ask out loud about how many ghosts we were waking up... I was immediately told to stop acting weird.

A few years ago my husband and I came upon the rare opportunity to purchase a house that has been in his family since 1913. And when I say "been in his family" that's what I mean because no one outside of the family has ever lived in it. Built by the Great Grandfather himself, and cared for by family and neighbors just STEEPED in tradition and history. So much so that I almost needed a spiritual reckoning before stepping foot over the town lines. These were and are amazing people filled with such goodness that you wonder just what is in the water... then they compliment you and do something else nice and you realize that it must be the soil... Then the snow melts and the flowers pop and smile... Even the rain is happy. It took me a long time to realize that these were really genuinely nice people -- they didn't want anything from me... They weren't out to get me. In fact, if you can believe this, it was actually ME that was the weirdo with that sarcasm and pocket full of kryptonite... who knew?

So anyway. A few years ago my husband and I came upon this opportunity and we took it. We bought Pop's house after he passed away. We bought it with the intentions of fixing it up and renting it out and then of course using it over holidays--AND we did this despite the fact that we live 4 hours away from it... And then it sat. We thought about it a few times over the years... paid it a few visits... even rented it out to those that didn't mind it's condition. It sat there waiting for us... settling into being the house that SOMETHING was eventually going to happen to. Life took over... until last Monday (one week ago) we decided to do something about it...This is just the beginning... we have tons of work to do.
  

Well... we realized last Monday that it was January and that we haven't been on a vacation in over 3 years. Yes. 3 years... So, without hesitation and/or thought, we decided to leave the kid to fend for himself and went here:

Just kidding. We could never get through security without the kid.

Again, just kidding.
And I know - NOT FUNNY. But thank you for asking... especially my Twitter friends that cuddled me through our ordeal. Because... you see, we didn't go there. Oh no. We did not. Instead, we went here:

Where there was this:

And this is just a teaser because I just returned and my mind is still numb from the experience. Jealous much? I think SO!

I can take a smack down better than most, but when LZ aka My Messy Paradise and Eric Striffler aka http://www.striffler.com & http://www.striffler.com/weddings.html, both answered HAWAII within the same 1/2 hour, I was floored.  LZ answered via comments and Eric via Facebook - I've tried to decipher which answered first but all I can get is within that same 1/2 hour... so CONGRATULATIONS TO BOTH. Interviews will proceed sometime in the next 2 weeks. Okay okay... so perhaps this was a little obvious, but wasn't it fun too?

Soooo... Now what? I was hoping that this contest would last longer than 1 hour into publishing time. smart-asses, so here's another Guessing Game for the long weekend.

WHERE IS THIS?

What STATE, in the great U S of A was this picture taken?

1. Guesstimate the closest STATE this picture was taken in.
2. Guess as many times as you would like.
3. The first person to answer correctly will be interviewed for an upcoming For The Birds "Bird Watcher Profile" post. Read the most recently published, it was a blast!
   
4. Then I will promote the hell out of your story for a week.
5. All about you. 
6. I am no joke about promotion. 
7. Game ends November 29, 2009 - the closest guesstimate location wins... exact preferred.
   
8. If you won the last guessing game here at For the Birds (LZ & Eric), you can play but you can't win-- you can suggest the right answers (if you can't control yourself).
9. If you were with me when this was taken, you can't play--I promise to be more original next time.
   

Bogus Original Post:

We are taking a few days off... getting out of town... fleeing the Hamptons... be prepared to rock out next week with For the Birds first Guest Bird. Hmmm will he/she be a Rooster.. Chicken... Ferruginous Duck... Slaty Egret... Peacock... Black-faced Spoonbill... ?

A few weeks ago For the Birds celebrated it's one year mark -- picture me sitting at the keyboard with a party hat on....vodka bottle rolling on the floor...  silly string still stuck to the monitor.. I mentioned in my post that FTB has built a following with over 20,000 site visitors. This is a rough estimate, because  -- come on, really. You don't think that I actually believe that 20,000+ of you are out there reading these almost daily observations... And thanks to all of the lovely comments that I received pointing this out. Side note, I am not that BOARING Ms. Kelly from Kentucky -- and although you don't know how to spell, I might have better things to do with my time but I choose to do this -- and if it's just not that interesting to you -- then STOP visiting. But, keep checking in if you must, I am into all things that depreciate. 

So, getting to the point, I do know -- thanks to those smart heads over at Feed Burner, that we do have a factual regular readership of 25 concrete, real-live people. That's right - a lovely and lucky 25. And to you I am calling out. In the next few days the following will be happening:

1. For the Birds will turn out the lights for a much needed beauty rest.
2. For the Birds will return, refreshed and better than ever--but only viewable at the new (still shiny) URL - http://forthebirdsblog.com
3. The old ugly domain http://designsigh.typepad.com/forthebirds will GO AWAY, so DON'T GO THERE
4. Those of you that have the old domain/URL in your readers, you will need to change to the new domain.
5. For the Birds will only be accessible from http://forthebirdsblog.com
6. This has very little to do with the evil birders over at forthebirds.com 

Unfortunately, I don't have specific timing on this event--otherwise I would fill you in. But the wheels are in motion. We've checked the logs, Batman, and will make a swift return... So, if you happen to be settling in for the evening, and pull up to FTB for some mild entertainment, please don't be alarmed if you receive some sort of error message or blank screen--We are still here... we are coming back--this has very little to do with the evil birders at forthebirds.com AND, the best is yet to come... More shameless self-promotion of multiple personality abundance -  I want you to know but I don't anxiety disorder...  have I mentioned most of us here are geminis? Any questions? Email me - rmsatbwdstudiodotcom.

Year one has passed!

I began publishing For the Birds on this date circa 2008--wow oh wow have things changed since. Initially, For the Birds was to be a marketing tool for Breakwater Design Studio, and although it does serve that purpose, FTB has also opened up whole new worlds for me... Writing and Internet Social Media. Once shunned--Facebook and Twitter are now common tools that promote, engage... Once feared, writing a very public diary of almost daily observations has given me a personal boost that I never could have imagined... Sharing accounts with readers who then become friends with common interests and concerns... And then my favorite -- sharing our lives with existing friends and family scattered all over the world. In short, connections have become a way of life and For the Birds has allowed my family and I to have a mini piece of the pie--actively participating on an almost daily basis.

So, I guess that I need to thank me for jumping into a way of life that I never knew possible... but -- as I take my place at the podium to accept the award for 2009 Ego of the Year--I really thank all the readers... to date a shocking 23,247--even those that hit the website and went "what the f is this" and x'd the browser out... I have kept my word and emailed everyone back that has commented--and I have kept most comments private... knowing that privacy is still a major player in the evolution of For the Birds.

On another note, I really want to acknowledge a few other blogs out there that have given me the courage to share in this open forum... In no particular order:

Dooce
Mighty Girl
Suburban Bliss
Gotham Gal
Designing Moms

I don't think that any of these authors are aware of me or how much they have influenced... If they were aware--I'm sure that restraining orders would be issued. At any rate, I read their posts with the hope that someday FTB will boast it's own URL (damn you--you evil birders at forthebirds.com) and claim a regular readership. Until that day--keep stopping by--I promise generous helpings of almost daily observations... blood, sweat, tears all mixed with a fine selection of mundane tribulations.

PS. If you want to hear me talk more (The floodgates! Typepad you're killing me!)--visit me at Twitter.