splitbeak: (Default)
Getting up at 7 every morning is weird. It's like being back in school without the weekends. I'm trying to talk Bailey into some kind of arrangement where I take him out at 7 to take care of business, then he lets me go back to sleep. That seems fair to me. I'll even give him half an hour to run around like crazy first.

But no... this does not seem to work for his royal highness.

Well, to be fair, maybe we are coming to some kind of accord. I have to put him back in the crate if I go back to bed, because someone has proven time and again he will randomly go on the carpet if I take my eyes off him for a second. The first time I demonstrated operation please-dear-god-I'm-a-night-owl-lemme-alone!, Bailey wailed his head off the second I put him back in the crate and did not let up even after the two hours it took to break me.

This morning when I tried it, he gave me a couple minutes before getting into it and actually gave me a reprieve after about 20 minutes. I can work with that. Of course, an hour later his benevolence ran out and the howling returned. And like the idiot I am, I gave in to his terrorist demands and let him out. To prevent the return of sleep (oh sleep, where art thou sleep?), I curled up on my couch instead. Bailey was content to just sit next to the couch while I didn't sleep.

The birds came to visit me on the couch too. This was actually the best part. Rockne and I had a long talk for about an hour (I swear, we really can have entire conversations with body language and kisses. I'm not crazy!). By the end of it, Rockne apologized for his aggression earlier this week - first towards Bailey, then me - and promised his temper tantrum was over. I in turn, promised I did not love him any less because of the pooch.

My apartment has become a soap opera, no lie. And not even a good one.

On a positive note, this morning Bailey displayed the first hint that this housebreaking thing may actually happen!!! :) :) :) He actually did a little dance and hovered in front of the door. Let me out, fool! I did, he ran up the stairs, I opened the door, and off he went to fill the cesspool. Queue Handel's Hallelujah Chorus and a happy Snoopy Dance.

Of course, said pooch then had to ruin it an hour later with an unauthorized leakage. Like, srsly? No meal/significant water drinkage in between toilet runs, just, "Oh, I think I'll go now." Dude! Grrrr. One step forward, three steps back...

I swear, this dog is a ninja. Go on, you try catching him in the act. He can be anywhere, at anytime, but you'll never know, for he moves on tiny (actually, rather large) cat feet (don't tell him that) and makes no sound as he passes. I swear, half the time I turn around to look at him, only to discover he's laying on my feet and I didn't even notice, he'd settled so quietly and lightly. And I'm usually one of those hyperaware people that's hard to sneak up on/hide from.

I suppose the potty training might be working if now when I manage to catch him in the act, scream, "no!" he stops right away and heads straight for the door. I'll take that to mean he knows what he should be doing if the carpet's not an option. Now I just need him to know the carpet is never an option.

I can't wait until he's housebroken. I don't mind cleaning up the mess, but the lingering smell is killing me.

Aggravating training aside, he's such a sweet boy. I do like him very much and he's a lot of fun to play with. Look, I'm actually tempted to talk to people about him - 3 blog posts in 1 week - I never talk this much! Sorry to all those I'm spamming with these.

splitbeak: (Default)
So the pooch now has a name: Bailey (yeah, I'm real original, I know).

He's such a sweetie.

It's great - I tell him something, he listens and remembers. The birds? I tell them something, they laugh and then do the opposite. Every time. Why does everyone say a dog is so much more responsibility? Once this housebreaking thing is over (and please god, let that be soon), he's a piece of cake. A very yummy cake.

Obligatory cuteness:
splitbeak: (Default)
I bought a dog today!



This is so exciting! Every time I see him I double look and like, really? I really have a dog? He's really mine?! :P Now I just need to figure out what to call him.

TBD is an Australian Shepherd Mini. I got him from the puppy store - I tried finding a dog at the local shelters, but I couldn't find one that met my needs. I know this makes me an awful, no good person, but who can resist that face?

He's been so good with my birds, which is a big relief. Now I have to decide whether to crate train him or not. He came home and immediately settled into a perfect spot and seemed so happy there - why crate train if we agree on what space is his? And he picked one of my few non-carpeted spots to call his own - I can actually clean up accidents quite easily there!

He's so sweet; it's ridiculous!!!
splitbeak: (Default)

Bugs Bunny (2008)
I've done it again! The front door is painted and it's barely into December. Yay me! For previous years' pictures, check out my gallery.
Bugs Bunny (2008)

splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
The Mom cracked. She fell. The reign of the unmovable "No" monster has ended. Rocky now has a girlfriend. Meet...

ADRIAN!!!!!



Adri was born in April and is DNA sexed (about time I got one). So far the two have gotten along swimmingly. :)

Rockne and Adri, Cute & Armed )
splitbeak: (Default)
Around the beginning of June, I get a phone call from a conductor I knew for a couple of weeks... 5 years ago. She's organizing a summer orchestra festival at her university and is in need of bassists. Would I like to audition? Now, I haven't played in an orchestra since I transfered out of Ithaca College, 4 years ago. When I left the music school there, I resigned myself to basically ending my music career. I haven't continued my lessons or played in any orchestras since I left; there just wasn't time between my academic studies, work and a hefty commute. I barely had time to fool around for fun, let alone seriously practice. Suffice to say, I know my skill level couldn't possibly be anywhere near what it was.

And yet, listening to the conductor chatter on the phone, trying to get me to join, that little tingly feeling in my stomach starts acting up; this might be a second chance. I'm done with undergrad, and I'm taking the summer off from my grad program. There'll never be a better time (at least for the next few years). The only crux is that I have to take bits and pieces of days off work with only a month's notice (nowhere near enough time as far as my bosses are concerned - to many people with shared responsibilites and independent skills). Whatever, I make it happen.

Now I've got one week to beat myself back into shape for an audition that's more of a formality than anything else. And yet, coming in from the cold (4 YEARS!), I was afraid that I really didn't have any skill left. It certainly didn't sound like it the first day. I complained to some of my co-workers, "Ah! I'm finally getting old." But clearly I was exaggerating, as I pulled it off.

One month of cooling my heels later, and group rehersals start. The music was only released to the musicians two days before (not nearly enough time) and it was HARD. Most of the pieces are very fast and have a lot runs with plenty of accidentals. Needless to say, I was nervous going into this. I show up at orientation, and the first thing I think is, "Oh god, they're all kids." It wasn't true, but at some point I did grow up when no one was looking. Weird. Most of the orchestra is in high school, but since orientation I've found a few with wrinkles in the foreheads. I'm bracing myself for seating auditions, but when I come back from the bathroom (oh, the timing!) a sheet is already being passed around with placements. Thank god I didn't have to worry about that. Then I realize one of the other bassists has moved my bass (it is a little rude to touch another person's instrument without permission - they're very expensive and a livelihood for some) to the first stand. Ass to floor. Oh shit.

I take a little break and still come back section leader.

So now, not only do I have to play well, but I have to help other people play better. No pressure. (Although some guilty satisfaction, oh yes.) The other two bassists I'm playing with are actually quite good, and at first I can't believe the conductor put me ahead of one of them.

As rehersals get underway I eventually settle into my place. My hands are now callused again, my tendons and muscles no longer burn after a mere two hours, and the music is musical.

And so tonight's the big night, oh god. I still don't have every bit of music down yet, and I probably never will, but I think we still sound good. I hope all goes well. I'm going to miss playing again once this is over.



Tonight's program:
Beethoven's Coriolan Overture, Op. 62
Mozart's Oboe Concerto
Dvorak's Czech Suite
Reinecke's Flute Concerto, Op. 283
Wieniawski's Violin Concerto No. 2, Op. 22
and god help me, Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony, Op. 90


There's enough music to warrant our own intermission, apparently. I think we have over 1.5 hours worth of playtime, let alone stop time for the audience to clap, the winds to clear the stage, soloists to have their grand entry, conductors to give speeches, etc... this will probably be a long night. But hey, tradition, Friendly's afterparty!


splitbeak: (House)
splitbeak: (Sleepyhead)
Yay! One more art project done. My friend, who lives in a condo, asked me to draw him a picture of two asian dragons around his condo number to make into an address plate for his door. The annoying part is it's eventually going to be etched into some kind of metal plate, so I could only do outlines, rather than a whole nice piece with shading and what not. C'est la vie. That just gives me the urge to do yet another work (this time bigger, and in color!). It's nice having a reason to do artwork. You never realize how much you miss art classes in school until you graduate and suddenly you've gone months without drawing anything more than an impressive doodle. So sad.



EDIT: Those of you who saw this when I originally posted may realize that I made some minor changes. I woke up this morning, still irritated by the top left/center of the pic, and suddenly I realized how to fix it. This is why you never do an art project in just one day folks. Editing is always good.


splitbeak: (Default)
and his name is . . .
ROCKNE ! ! !


Say hello to my little friend. Rockne is a four-month-old white bellied caique (kai-EEK). So far, so cute.


Meez

Feb. 1st, 2008 12:32 am
splitbeak: (Default)
Coolness. I found this site from Nel-Ani's journal. You get to make cool things like this:

Photobucket

:D
splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
I figured I haven't posted any pictures of his royal cuteness lately. These were taken right before Christmas (so weird for me to actually have current pictures of anything... or pictures at all). He's 8 months old now, and nibbling everything. I swear, it's like he's teething (all he needs are teeth).


Why am I on this chair and not your shoulder, dammit!



Oh... the bliss! Yes, yes, scratch just a little more to the side, would you?



Yes, yes, I'm cute, I know. Now would you just play with me already!!!


splitbeak: (George: Hates Shakespeare)
HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!

**Happy Dance**

I just finished my last final of my undergraduate career!!!

Take that college!

WOOT WOOT!!

splitbeak: (Default)
I hate college.

All I want to do is watch He-Man and She-Ra in peace, and can I do that... NO! And why not? Here I am, watching She-Ra being united with her parents, and all I can see is that She-Ra has blonde hair and blue eyes, He-Man also has blonde hair (although, he has brown eyes, so that's okay), but her "father" has brown hair and brown eyes, and her "mother" has red hair and brown eyes.

Freaking biology classes.

Ugh.

splitbeak: (House)
Just who will House hire? A few of my thoughts.
Spoilers up to the current episode )
splitbeak: (Default)
For their 28th anniversary I drew a portrait of my parents and gave it to them. It was 18"x 24" in colored pencil and resulted in 4 different packs of pencils, three blisters, and 6 different reference photos (my dad has this thing about a) smiling and b) keeping his eyes open for the camera). Oh, and all the photos were closely scrutinized under a magnifying glass. My brain hurts. But they liked it a lot, so it's all worth it.






As always, I'm not completely satisfied with it, but then again, left to my own devices I'd work on it forever. But hey, at least now I'm free to work on some fanart for Robert Jordan's calendar contest.


splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
Welcoming to the family Oatmeal II, aka...

JUNIOR!






This is a picture of him after he's taken his first shower. He's the only quaker I know who refuses to take a bath. He's only 10 weeks old and he's already almost the size of Oatmeal (who was 15 years old and therefore full grown)! I still miss Oatmeal terribly, and I'm sad the Pionus didn't work out, but Junior is definately cute.
splitbeak: (House)
Since I seem to be on such a proud New Yorker kick, here's one more. Then I'm done for the night. I promise.

Boss of the Year
The Hmmm, That Actually Might Work Trophy
(for good management ideas, as rare as they may be)

3rd Place: Not a Single Room



In 2003, the Boston Red Sox and their arch rivals, the New York Yankees, were trying to sign free agent pitcher Jose Contreras. The Sox management rented all the rooms in the hotel in which Contreras was staying so Yankee officials could not get close to him.

Despite the clever strategy, the Red Sox being the Red Sox and the Yanks being the Yankees, the New York team signed him anyway.




splitbeak: (Space Vista)


splitbeak: (Splitbeak)
Ever since Oatmeal died, I've had birds on the brain. Then I find this...



Now I'm concerned about why my bird was always playing with the mirror.

Pet Panics!

May. 1st, 2007 04:07 pm
splitbeak: (Moonlight2)
Gah! Okay, now I'm panicking. My bird is sick and the time is ticking very slowly until her appointment with the vet. When I say my bird, I don't mean some cute little finch in a cage I can do nothing more than look at for three years until it dies. I mean my 14 (15?) year old parrot who sits on my shoulders for hours every day and has been my constant companion for most of my life. In 14 (15?) years she's never once been sick! She's just sitting in her cage looking miserable. She was sitting on my shoulder for a few hours before, but I finally had to put her down after she threw up. Did you know birds could throw up? I didn't! God, it reeked! What was coming out her other end was even worse. TMI, I'm sure, but feel free to stop reading. If she's not okay, I'm going to have a very big problem. Eee!




An Irish Blessing

May the road rise to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

August 2011

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