It's 5:30 in the morning. And no, I'm not just rolling over into the blue haze of the day.
Outside, in the tree on our street, a mockingbird loudly lets us know that he's made his fort. And he's been letting us know for two weeks now. Every night. From midnight until 9am the next morning.
Incessant little bugger.
Unfortunately, the mockingbird is a protected creature (something about a Migratory Act) and I cannot (either on purpose or 'accident') use the tempting air soft gun to aid his untimely demise.
I tried shaking his tree and got spiders in my hair. I tried cooing and he just copied me.
He does a great car alarm around 4am each morning. Pretty impressive. I tried teaching him a new whistle and he repeated it a couple times and returned to his usual mournful wail.
I wish he'd lose his voice. He's not even getting hoarse.
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In other news: no job but not worried about it yet. The bill for grad school isn't due until August 3. I've got a few weeks anyway.
Headed to San Francisco this weekend to see Zak before he ditches the states for his immersion into Africa. I'm takin the train early Saturday morning. Never done that before. I'll let you know how it goes.
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As the blue light of dawn fades to the gray of another summer morning, I miss ... Santa Barbara. And the friends that go with her.
Hey Westmont. You're my Sunshine today.
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