It all started with a hello.
More like a couple hundred hellos.
I was safe with the first course. I guess Biscuits and Gravy wasn't interesting or he was just distracted.
Rack, my dog, doesn't really care. He knows that typically I will stand at the kitchen sink or sit at the small table in the kitchen and stare out of the windows while stuffing my face. Once through, he may get something if he doesn't beg. He will go to the backdoor and stare at me through the glass into the kitchen and go out to water the plants and sniff the dog on the other side of the double fence. Besides I'm not having yogurt today. That's when Rack gets insistent and I eat all of my food under cover.
It usually gives me time to have the majority of breakfast.
Oscar, on the other hand, is weird.
My parrot has realized that me in kitchen means food. Food can be in a bowl or on a plate. He's starting to realize that I'll give him something just so he will shut his beak.
Hello in a shrill little girl voice repeated can be quite obnoxious especially when repeated at a volume that reminds me of my neighbor's motorcycle.
On the other hand, it is Mango Season, so I can't completely blame him. I have had the first harvest of these sweet orange fleshed sugar bombs and am wondering when I can get the next one from the tree. That tree is a neighborhood gift. The owner doesn't eat mangoes so we pick the fruit so it doesn't fall from the sky.
A two pound mango falling from the skies can leave quite a dent when accelerating at 32 feet per second squared. Two seconds from the top of that 60 plus tree. Pick with a long pole, and don't stand under the fruit.
No, Oscar, this is your cousin from Maryland. Eggs are not good for birds.
Second course had him fully warmed up, repeating Hello constantly.
I sliced up 12 ounces and set aside the broad flat pit. It's a deal, Oscar, you get the skin and a block of the fruit, plus the pit and some more orange flesh. That should keep you quiet for a bit.
Walking to the cage, I open the door with sticky hands. Orange drops of mango juice hit my right foot and splatter on the recently cleaned floor. I'll have to mop that up, it will only be the second time today that the floor gets attention.
Oscar's eyes pin. The pupils shrink down to almost invisible. His excitement is obvious. I put the skin and the pit on the paper in the bottom of the cage commenting "I hope this shuts you up for a while".
Grabbing the bowl, I take my mango into the laundry room and finish it while looking at the video feed from the security camera systems. The night speeds by in a few segments where cars pass by the house in the wee hours. No, nothing strange happened, and it really is a safe neighborhood. The strangest thing that happened overnight was a moth that tried to mate with the camera over my Jeep. No cats to catch and rehome, no dogs lost, no weird neighbors having a party at 3AM.
At least for now, the neighborhood is quiet.
My mind flashes to the week. I'm having house guests so I have to make bread. Sourdough rolls take a longer rise time so I have to make the pre-ferment. Add everything but two cups of flour to the standard recipe, then let it sit for a half hour. If I see action in the mix, it will rise, if not add yeast.
Adding the sourdough starter to the bread machine's bucket I hear it as I feed Mother for her trip back to the refrigerator.
Bloody freaking hell... Oscar you have had enough, eat your mango!
Add sugar, oil, salt, lukewarm water...
Hello, Hah Hah Hah!
No Oscar, you don't want this!
A cup of flour, press start to mix the pre-ferment and walk out of the kitchen.
Oscar stops. Just like a light switch. Life goes quiet and back to the routine. Late 90s Pop playing on the internet radio and the clock ticking loudly in the background. Back to normal.
Except... time to add those two cups of flour...
It's going to be a noisy day.
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