It Doesn't Get Any Easier.

My little Gilly-bird died. Mick and I are equally heartbroken. I miss her beautiful feathers, her horrible screechy singing that make you laugh that something so grating could come from such a pretty little bird, I miss the way she watched us all like a queen overseeing her subjects build a temple in her honor.

We buried her next to Irving, wrapped in a pink silk scarf. Lying there, she just looked to bright and colorful to be dead, and she made the plants around her seem faded.

And that's how Mick and I feel now. Sorta faded.

I Love My New Camera Almost As Much As I Love My Pets.

Mick on the left and Gillian on the right. They'll always kissing, except for when I pull out the camera.


Pierce (brown) and Willow (white), our gay lovebirds except that they're finches, not lovebirds.


Maddox in the front there, in front of Hazel. Hazel is the only one who can tolerate living with the volatile and temperamental Maddox.


Hazel is also the softest looking of all my birdies.


Hazel and Maddox's three surviving kids, from top to bottom, Bevis, Bob and Meryl.


And I finally captured the puppy ear comb-over.