Birding post #54,768

These are some worms who live in our refrigerator. The only reason they are allowed is that they are for the bluebirds, and the bluebirds are my favorite, because of their sweet little song and their cuteness. These are two qualities non-birders enjoy. Whereas birders, actual birders, are generally more into what birds are rare and such, I'm into a) birds that are adorable and b) California Condors. Because they're huge. These particular mealworms were purchased at Wild Birds Unlimited. When I go to the Harris Teeter in Chapel Hill North to get something for dinner, some paper towels maybe, it takes all my might not to waltz into Wild Birds Unlimited and buy everything in the entire store for J. I know I make fun of him, but if you were to see him in the store, interacting with the store owner, who likes birds so much he's opened his own bird store franchise, well, you'd understand.

First of all, they've got a lot of cool things that you can't just get at Target, or wherever you choose to buy your birding materials. They have the Flydentifier (which nobody talks about except me, it turns out) as well as a host of other specialty bird items. CD's and wooden houses and cement bird baths. But I don't care about any of that. I know many do, but I don't. What I like is the couple who owns the store. Usually it's this very friendly gentleman, who sold us the mealworms yesterday, but I hit the jackpot just before Christmas when I got to interact with both he and his wife and I was buying J his advanced pole system ("APS" for short - get with the program!) The two of them proceeded to tell me the story of how she'd bought him the APS system for Christmas one year. How she couldn't wrap it, because, you know, it's a bunch of metal poles...the look on his face when he opened it. And while I know I'll never be that to my husband - a fellow amateur ornithologist, and I'll never, ever bring binoculars anywhere, much less try and decide which pair would be best to pack for a trip - to New York City - all I want out of life is that kind of love. The kind of love that makes you excited to wrap up birding toys for your partner in life. The kind of love where you're so into the bird toys, and so into eachother, that you don't mind telling a stranger all about it.

On forming a clique in Spanish class

My friends Sherry, Jess and I have been taking a community college Spanish class for the past couple of weeks and I can sincerely say that my skills in the language are coming along. For instance, I now begin emails to them, "Hey hermanas!" ("Hey, sisters!") because we're cool. I might even go so far as to say we're the cool kids in class. For instance, last night, our teacher, Don ("sir" - formal) Victor, asked the class to tell him, through a show of hands, who'd rather begin learning numbers that night after the test, and who'd rather begin learning numbers next week - a.k.a. we would have gotten to go home way early. Needless to say, our hands shot up wildly after the go-home-after-the-test option while the other members of our class nerdily decided that we'd be learning how to count that very night. What the hell, guys?!

The class sort of echoes high school in all ways except the age of the students. In fact, it's a little unnerving. First of all, the class is taught at a local high school. Our classroom is obviously used for Social Studies during the day and is obviously home to a feminist teacher who wants all the kids, even the boys, to be feminists too. The walls are covered in women's rights posters and murals. Faced with this hearty learning environment, I'm tempted to etch hearts into the desk and make faces at my friends when the overacheivers in the front row do something dumb. Really dumb! Like point out some meaningless misspelling or ask a question that only serves to get them brownie points but not any real depth of education.

When they're standing in the hallway whispering about, oh, I don't know, probably how clever they are I just want to throw our youth and cool-factor in their faces. But when it gets down to the real deal, what we're going to have to do is beat them at their own game. And I'm a little concerned about this considering Sherry, Jess and I have lives which we dedicate to ventures besides reading "Spanish is Fun" cover to cover while nursing a decaf coffee at the kitchen table.

As mentioned, last night was our first test and we laughed in the snack room after it was over about the difficulties we had. One of the sections was to write a five-sentence paragraph in Spanish about a scene pictured on the page of a man with a broken down car. What?! This isn't Spanish Comprehensive Lit!

My paragraph (translated here for you to read) went something like this:

Pedro's car is in the garage. Pedro works in a bank. Pedro doesn't buy a new car. Pedro talks to the man. Pedro rides a bike.

Luckily, we think Don Victor, who's a pretty easygoing guy, won't grade us too hard. And if he does, well, it's kind of badass to be a slacker anyway.