Giant Birds, Wonderful & Scary Bears (Ok, One Wonderful & Scary Bear), & Wackos (Both Good, & Bad)

I've been quite lax as of late in maintaining a blogging flow, so to speak. Mainly due to sleep issues, which are related to my continuing battle with CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome). But they still say it won't kill me, and because I have to take care of Eddie, my little brother of the cockatiel persuasion, and provide a sanctuary as well as look for Albert, my cousin (he doesn't like to think of himself as being closely related to humans) of the large bearish type, I can't kill me. Besides. My mother, sister (one of them, anyway), and brother wouldn't forgive me.
Anyroad, while wrestling with what little sleep I could snatch from the jaws of insomnia last night, I had a strange and disturbing dream that bordered on being a nightmare. I was at my Mother's house, where my sister (the one I don't get along with; I have two), had let Eddie out of his cage. I was attempting to get him back into his cage, but he had grown to human size, and he was wearing clothes. And I, Eddie and his cage were in the bathroom. At least the window wasn't open. Although if it had been, Eddie would not have fit through it in his new giant size. The only meaning I can draw from this particular dream, is that I am a very disturbed individual. 'Course, I knew that already. I blame it on the very disturbing world we live in.
Which brings me to wackos. My heart goes out to all those who were killed, injured, or with family and/or friends either killed or injured in the Boston Marathon bombing, and the subsequent aftermath. I don't how a bomber, suicide or otherwise, or a mass murderer of any kind is created. But I do know it takes hate, a seriously twisted mind or minds, and the mistaking of great evil for something good. The end result is a wacko of the worst, and most dangerous sort.
A wacko of the best sort, is one who views life in an "outside of the box" kinda way, and has an excellent sense of humor, although some people might consider his/her sense of humor somewhat irreverent, and even inappropriate upon occasion. But he/she, like all the best wackos, has a great reverence for life. All life. Yeah, I know a couple of those. Even some famous ones. Some people might even think I'm a bit of one myself. More recently, I was called a weirdo. I suppose I am, sorta'. But a very nice one. Honest.
Anyroad, it was about 70 degrees out there today, with plenty of sun. The trees are budding, flowers (at least some them) are blooming, birds are singing, and there's a bear sleeping under my bed. I don't know how he does that. I can barely get under there. Albert is mostly a nocturnal creature while he stays with me. He complains there are too many people around with guns. He is of the belief that humans shouldn't be allowed to have guns at all. I can understand his point of view.
So. Be well, be strong of heart, and take care of each other. If you see a wandering black bear in the moonlight some night, don't shoot him. He's a friend of mine. And if you see a very large cockatiel dressed in clothes, I can only assume you are some kind of a fruitcake.