She's surrounded by danger.

Wild turkeys, some as large as four feet tall, are terrorizing people along Concord Street in Cranford...

Basil has learned a new word: Basil.

You may now all go back to your mundane lives.

In life there has always been a struggle between two significant forces in life: Those on the elevator, who want the door to close before anyone else gets on, and those trying to keep the door from closing so that they don’t have to ‘wait for the next one’. Myself, I have been on both sides of the battle. Where I work is a battery of 6 elevators, which service the parking garage and lead to the trolley stop. There is almost always an elevator at the top – sometimes two. I know, by ‘Murphey’s Law of distributed stops’, that every person who wants gets on, means another floor to stop on. If an elevator has more than 5 people, I won’t get on, knowing it will be a faster trip on the next car with fewer people.

Now, most people on the elevator aren’t mean. They don’t actively push the ‘close door’ button. The press their floor, then eye the doors as if willing them shut with Jedi powers. However, once the doors have started to close, most people don’t reach for the ‘open door’ button. Period.

On the other side, the goal of those hoping to catch the elevator is to interpose anything between the doors to trigger the sensor and get them to open. If they were Indiana Jones, they would simply crack the bull whip between the doors, and the doors would spring open. Alas, bull whip free,
People have to settle for body parts, briefcases, or purses.

Which brings me to my story – and the epic struggle.

Wednesday, on the way to school, I waited for an elevator. A ‘sixer’ care (meaning it had six people) was just about the leave, and I knew that my ride would be faster waiting for an emptier one. However, an older lady, small and frail, wanted that elevator. As the door closed, slowly, she hobbled up and – in a move of sheer desperation and creativity – shoved her little purse between the doors.

Which the doors promptly shut on.

For some reason, they did not spring open, the closed enough to grab her bag and hold onto it like a rabid squirrel grabs a nut. Nor, however, did the elevator actually move. You could see the six people in the car, waiting. Hoping, I’m sure, that she would pull out her purse, the doors would close, and off they would go. But, the lady was not strong enough the free her purse. She pulled and pulled, but it stayed in the clutches of the evil elevator. And yet, no one moved to press the ‘open’ button, which would have freed her, but allowed her onto the elevator.

I was about to interpose myself, and pull the purse out for her, but another elevator had arrived, and was empty. I could spy a large crowd of people at the cross walk, waiting for the light to change and give them access to the elevators.

So, I left these two competitors behind, locked in battle.

And, as far as I know, they are still there.

What does every house with three birds (The Main bird and two back-up birds) need? Exactly. Another bird.

Mike has an addiction problem. It used to be jackets. Then plants. Then ties. Plants again. Fish. Plants. And now Birds.

I had a busy day at work, and was tired. Mike called and said he was at the pet store buying food, and they had the cutest white cockatiel. I said “Nice”, then we discussed other things. After work, on the way to the Gym he said. “The bird was _so_ cute. And the woman said she would give me a deal on him...but I couldn’t. We have three birds already. We don’t have room for any more birds!” A minute later. “Do we?”

Needless to say, after the gym we went to the pet store. So, here’s Tadzio. The name comes from Death in Venice .