It's all in my mind

My computer booted me last night, so I could not elaborate on my mom being a nutcase. Then I figured her stories were better told as posts of their own.

Let me preface this and any future posts about her by saying I love my mother to death. I'd take a bullet for that woman. We didn't speak for a number of years, and that was probably the most empty I've ever felt. Even though she's looney, selfish, opinionated, manipulative and often deceitful, I would do anything for her.

And now, on with the show.

At the end of last winter, my boyfriend and I went to my folks' for dinner. Mom tells me she has a new hobby and wants to show off some of her things. She takes me in the basement, and tells me that her goal for the spring is to invite as many birds as possible into their yard.

She'd been collecting birdhouses for the past several months, and had amassed quite a few. She has a bookcase in the basement, and three or four shelves were filled with houses. They started out quite normal, regular squared-off, nondescript homes. Then they progressed into whimsical shapes. There was a plaid chicken, more colorful house-shaped ones, and my favorite, a wooden hand. The hand cracks my shit up, and I tell her to bring it upstairs to show the bf.

She becomes very animated talking about her new hobby, and happily tells the boy her plans for the yard. She thrusts the hand out in front of her and declares, "all the birds will be fighting over this one. They'll say STOP! this one is my house!"

At this point, I'm in tears laughing. My boyfriend is sort of stunned. I figure it's a good time to remind him of the conventional wisdom that states a woman ends up like her mother. I tell him if he decides to get out now, I'll understand. I think he thought I was joking.

"But you haven't seen the best one," she exclaims.

They had been renovating their library, and had a lot of leftover wood. She took these scraps to make her own birdhouses.

She takes me into the next room, and there is the most disturbing, hilarious, creative thing I think I've ever seen.

Picture if you will, a big, flat square of wood. Perhaps a foot across. In the center of this, are four birdhouses, back-to-back, side-by-side, like a condominium subdivision. Around the perimeter of the square is a white picket fence. As landscaping, there are little plastic trees, flowers and bushes. There are tiny little bunnies and deer frolicking.

This beautifully frightening creation was to be put on a post and prominently displayed near the fountain they installed that summer.

Fast forward to summer, and my brother and I drop by for a visit. My step-dad is very excited to show off his new pellet gun. He tells us how he's set up targets throughout the yard, and has made it so he can shoot them from their upstairs bedroom window. He and my brother take off to go shoot stuff. My mom walks me around back to check out the yard.

Now, I don't know how to measure land. But they have a lot. They're set back far from the street, and surrounded by trees. It's beautiful property, my mom has quite the green-thumb, and there are gorgeous flowers everywhere. In each tree (dozens? twenty-thirty, I don't know, a bunch) there are 3 or 4 birdhouses. They cut off the branches of a big dead tree, and left the stump behind. The stump goes up about 10 feet, and there are shelves created from where bigger branches were cut off. There is a birdhouse on each "shelf," figure about 6 houses going around. On the front of the stump, she attached a couple more, one shaped like a greenman face, one like a squirrel. Then she crafted a sign saying "Welcome to Birdhouse Village." Also hanging from the trees are baskets filled with colorful yarn for lining nests. She also throws out clumps of animal hair after she brushes the pets, because she heard that makes nice nest lining as well.

It is beautiful, but it's toeing very close to the crazy line.

Recently, my mom called me to meet for lunch. I get to the designated location, and she isn't there. Then, I notice Wildbirds Unlimited next door. Sure enough, there she is, birdhouse in hand, chatting away with the lady working.

"Don't they have such beautiful things here?!" she exclaims.

The woman is explaining to my mom how to attract bluebirds. I think bluebirds. Anyway, you're supposed to put out a dish of mealworms, close to their house, but not terribly so. Everyday, you move the dish a bit closer to where you want the birds to live. Apparently, they get quite used to you feeding them, and will fuss at you if you come outside and their dish is empty. This has my mom very excited, and she can't wait until springtime to try it.

She signed us up for some classes they offer. Informational seminars about native birds, workshops and so on. Yes, US!

"Don't you want to learn how to attract birds?" she asks me.
"Well, not really."
She's taken aback, but soldiers on, "well, it'll still be interesting, don't you think? Plus, it'll be a fun way for us to hang out."

Yay. I can't wait...