My Love-Hate Relationships

Ruby-Crowned Kinglet?

I’m so grateful to have my J - O - B, but I'm not so much lovin' on it right now. In today’s economy, it makes little sense to spew "I hate my job" tirades when I have friends who don’t have them or have one that doesn’t pay half of what they previously earned. This caused me to start thinking of the many love-hate relationships in my dolce vita.  Or is it dulce vita? No, it’s dolce vita and dulce de leche – either way – they both translate to excellente!

Let’s take birds for example. In general, I would have to say that I love, Love, LOVE birds. Just this week I spotted the above bird that everyone believes is a ruby-crowned kinglet. I specifically ended my 40 minute jog with a stop at the Sugarcreek garden just to see if I might stand still for a few moments and greet a sparrow, a wren, or a chicken hawk. Within minutes, my ears were drawn to rooting-around sounds in a pile of brush. My eyes then focused on lovely shades of green reflecting off of the cutest little bird.  He had a red spot on the nape of his neck. I say "he" and "his" because for some reason, unlike with humans, male birds get to be pretty. The little guy even stalled long enough for me to get out my iPhone and snap his picture. So when I say I love birds, I think you get it. And right at this very moment, I love that there’s a bright-red boy cardinal sitting in the bird bath...sharing space with a little girl house finch.

So with all this birdie, birdie affection, what on terra firma could be my love-hate relationship with them? One word – STARLINGS. I hate that these ugly, mean, flying and screeching machines that use and abuse the eaves of our home to get it on, hire a doula, and ultimately birth more devil Starlings (and for those of you in therapy now, or in the recent past, is this shadow-self stuff?). When I say eaves I really mean attic. And when I say attic, I really mean the spot directly above Doc. B’s meditation space. There is absolutely no way I could muster the equanimity, let alone the concentration, required to emit thoughts of loving kindness with Starlings feeding their spawn directly above my freshly cut and colored head of hair. Yes, there’s room in the inn but this ain’t no nativity scene.  They're supposed to eat insects but apparently they don't even do that - we were still "forced" to build a screened porch to keep them AND the skeeters away.

Perhaps as I begin to mellow in my old age I’ll find the patience to share square footage with these annoying creatures. After all, they and their ancestors have resided here longer than we have.  Our contractor's carpenter had to scare them out of the house over ten years ago during our renovation…yet they keep coming back...damn squatters (or are we the squatters?). Plus, I’d bet one year’s worth of my J – O – B salary that there are, and will continue to be, days when I’ve been described as an annoying creature.




Clarice the Starling


More of my love-hate relationships:

• I love Elizabeth Gilbert and Hollis Gillespie but hate that I covet their writing skills.

• Along those same lines, I love writing (including this blog), but hate that I can’t get it together to write a book.

• I Love the cats but hate scooping the poop.

• Along those same lines, I love going to the hair salon to hear the joke of the month, but hate that I’ll be paying for it until I decide it’s okay to be gray. Joke of the month: knock, knock…who’s there?... smell mop…smell mop who?

• I love that we have a housekeeper for the first time in my life but hate that we clean before she visits.

• I love that Doc. B is a vegetarian, but hate that it means we don't cook a juicy steak on the Weber grill every now and again. Oh wait, I can do that when I go out to eat when Doc. B. is off on a meditation retreat.

Hope you're lovin' on what you're hatin' on!