Journal of a Sabbatical

September 2, 1998

blue cats, semipalmated plovers, whimbrels etc.

Copyright © 1998, Janet I. Egan

After I wrote the first entry for today, I tried to upload it to world but world was not answering. And since I didn't write about what I actually did today, I figured I might as well do a second entry. The image of the haystacks above didn't take nearly as long as the dancing trees image but I'm not quite as happy with it. This'll sort itself out. I'll figure out how to do what I want to the photos...

So, what about today?

Well, Roberta took the day off from the cat shelter to sell ads for the newsletter. I don't quite know how this made a difference in my ability to get the work done but somehow it did. I was done washing everything, including the sick room and rabies quarantine room stuff, in two hours flat. I didn't feel overwhelmed even once. Nobody was begging me to stop dishes and do litterboxes or demanding to know if the dryer had stopped yet.

I had lots of time to pet the cats, which I haven't had for a long time. Blue is a new cat who is (naturally) that adorable blue-gray color. She's really affectionate, generous with the head butts, and rolls over in ecstasy if anyone comes near her. She'll find a home quickly.

After I finished up at the shelter, I took a brief trip over to the refuge to check out the shorebird migration. On the way, I noticed a whole flock of lesser yellow legs at the boat ramp. At the salt pannes, shorebird central, there was the usual assortment of semipalmated plovers, semipalmated sandpipers, least sandpipers, greater and lesser yellow legs, and a couple of whimbrels. The pannes were absolutely jumping with life. The various shorebirds would fly up and descend a few yards away as a group every few minutes. A swarm of about 300 swallows of various kinds swooped down suddenly, almost skimming the surface of the water. A crow landed on a little grass hummock in the middle of the pannes and sent an explosion of shorebirds flying in all directions. Since when are they afraid of crows? A horde of birders arrived and I was getting hungry, not have eaten since an early breakfast, so I decided I had to go home.

I grabbed a sandwich and stopped in at Starbucks for coffee and to connect with Tom. He was in the middle of doing his laundry (the laundromat is about a half a block from Starbucks) so we didn't have much time to catch up on what each of us is reading, the latest Ned sightings, the career of Eric the fabulously successful filmmaker who is visiting this week, babysitting techniques, writers' block...

Still no answer from world.std.com, so I'm playing with Photoshop some more. The hay stacks make a surprisingly interesting charcoal sketch

Nancy tells me to stop comparing myself to other writers.

Mark McGwire will hit number 62 this week. He is in the zone.