Since I last blogorated:
Koko Taylor, my absolutely favorite blues singer ever, died. Damn. Then again, she was 80 and toured till a few days before she died.
The peregrines nesting on the PG&E building hatched out three eggs. The eyasses were given Miwok names; Hi, Liwa, Kiwel. Hi, the one tiercel, fledged first and a day later, harassed by local crows, flew into a plateglass window and died. Kiwel fledged next IIRC, then Liwa. Liwa made a bad landing and was picked up and taken to the vet; she had only broken a quill and got her elevator ride back to the rooftops the next day. She’s now at large in SF, and evidently hard to spot. Kiwel was picked up a couple days later with a broken clavicle and is now at (probably the same) vet’s. This is an injury that other falcons have survived and recovered from to live in the wild again. Fingers crossed. Hard year in the city.
Latest bulletin from Glenn Stewart on Kiwel:
Step one went well—there is a good expectation for healing without surgery in this 49 day old bird. Thirty days of quiet rest is needed. Fortunately, I am in a position to provide that for her at this time. Now, just so you know, this is a project that will take some time. We do not heal a bird like this and then take it outside and toss it into the air. We will discuss next steps when we get there.
My niece Erin graduated from highschool with honors, which got her a red grad gown. I sent her a check for college fripperies, which she will have found if she took my inscribed auntly advice to heart.
I’m on an unauthorized but duly reported taper-off of prednisone, which is resulting in serious depressive hours.
I’ve started with a New Drug, a long-acting inhaled bronchodiator called Foradil. Yes it sounds like a Tolkien character. Even has a surname: Foradil Aerolizer. Get this: I paid $115.38 for a three-month supply. (I couldn’t help OOFing out loud at the register.) The Usual and Customary Price (retail) on the tag is $617.89. How the fuck do people live with this shit???! (Yeah, they don’t.)
I tasted Korean acorn bread for the first time ever in a little hotdog joint in Martinez. One of the owners makes it herself, starting with acorns a friend gives her from a tree in um Concord? Walnut Creek? Thereabouts, east of here. Obviously other ingredients; it’s a lot like spicecake with walnuts and raisins. Joe and I each had once less-than-one-inch-thick slice, standard loafpan size, at 2 PM. I was still feeling quite full at 6 PM.
My sister Ellen finally got back online. HEY ELLEN! READ MY FUCKIN BLOG ALREADY OR I’LL PUBLISH THAT PHOTO OF YOU WITH RED EYEBALLS!!
I found and bought a little Pulitzer Prize dingledangle (keychain fob?) in an antique store for a buck. Damn, that’s sad.
The neighborhood crows have fledged three-four kids and they’re raising hell all day every day. Yeesh.
Posted by: Ron Sullivan
1 | By: jael on June 6, 2009 at 03:06 PM
that’s a horrendously expensive drug.
OFFFFFuck indeed.
Also
You’re awesome, Ron.