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posted by Patia  1:01 AM 6 Comments

1. Its/it's. It's one of the most common errors out there. "It's" is a contraction for "it is," not a possessive. Correct: It's nice to see you. The dog lost its collar.
2. Yea/yeah. Whenever I see "yea," I think in biblical terms, as in, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of death." It's "yeah": Yeah, I knew that.
3. Reigns/reins. Kings and queens have reigns; horses have reins. Take the reins, not the reigns.
4. Lose/loose. I saw someone in The Biggest Loser finale audience holding a sign that said "Biggest Looser," and part of me died inside. Another little part of me died each time Biggest Loser contestant Jerry triumphantly raised his arms and his loose skin flapped like wings. (I'm so sorry. But it's true.)
5. Blog/blog post. I've written about this before, and its misuse is still rampant. You no more write a blog than you write a magazine. You write a magazine article and a blog post. Just as a magazine is a collection of articles, a blog is a collection of posts. (However, it's okay to use blog as a verb, as in: "I'm going to go blog.")

Now I have a grammatical dilemma I'd like to pose to you, dear readers:

Facebook and Twitter updates start out with a person's name or user name, respectively. I've always tried to make a complete sentence out of my updates, even after Facebook dropped the "is" that followed people's names. For example: Patia "thinks there is nothing sexier than a cowboy in a bookstore."

Most people just write sentence fragments, which admittedly is a lot easier. I do sometimes give in to the temptation.

So, part one of my question is: For those of us who care about grammar, how important are complete sentences in status updates?

Part two of my question: If we use complete sentences, should we maintain third-person point of view throughout the entire update?

Incorrect though it may be, I often will transition from third person to first person halfway through the update. For example: Patia "would like to apologize for the June snow and cold temps. It's my fault. I turned off my heater's pilot light last week."

It just feels wrong to stay in third person the entire time: Patia "would like to apologize for the June snow and cold temps. It's her fault. She turned off her heater's pilot light last week." Yuck!

Your thoughts?

posted by Patia  10:28 AM 18 Comments

Susan Gibson wrote the Dixie Chicks mega-hit "Wide Open Spaces" while she was a student at the University of Montana. She returned to Missoula to perform at Sean Kelly's last night.

Here's an article I wrote about her: "Montana On Her Mind" (Montanan)

Sadly, my memory card ran out of space before the song ended. Sorry about that!

posted by Patia  1:52 PM 2 Comments

intoxicated / by fragrant purple lilacs / in a blue Ball jar.

~Me, Twitter haiku

posted by Patia  10:37 PM 4 Comments

I haven't been much in the mood for blogging lately. Frankly, I'm not even really in the mood right now, but I feel like I need to tell this story. Anyone who follows my Twitter or Facebook has already gotten the play-by-play, though.

Thursday evening I was headed to a friend's house when I drove past a red-tailed hawk on the ground under an interstate overpass. It couldn't fly. It probably had been hit by a vehicle. I guessed it had a broken wing.

It was 6:15 p.m. I called Animal Control first; their message said, "If this is an emergency, call 911." So I did. The dispatcher said they'd contact Fish and Game, but after an hour, they still hadn't been able to reach anyone. Using my phone's tiny web browser, I looked for help elsewhere. I twittered. I hunted for UM bird experts' home numbers. I called Kate Davis at Raptors of the Rockies, but her number was disconnected.

Meanwhile, the hawk had slid under the fence and walked up the embankment. We watched each other watching each other. When a UPS truck blew by, the bird retreated to the darkest cement recesses of the underpass.

At 7:45, a sheriff showed up and told me to give up and "let nature take its course." He actually quoted Tennyson at me, the same quote I blogged a few weeks ago when I rescued the baby starling: "Nature red in tooth and claw."



I wasn't ready to give up, though. I knew it was highly unlikely, but I wanted to try to catch the hawk. My friend Jen offered to come help. I got a black sweatshirt and heavy winter gloves out of the trunk of my car, then gingerly climbed over the barbed wire fence. I made my way across the litter-covered hillside and slipped into the shadows under the cement structure. The bird watched me, but didn't move as I came close. Amazingly, it barely struggled even when I gently covered it with the sweatshirt. I bundled it up and held it against my chest as I made my way back down the hill. Jen arrived and held the hawk while I climbed back over the fence. I drove home with the bundled bird nestled in the crook of my arm.

At home, I unwrapped the hawk from the sweatshirt. It flapped its wings a bit in fear, but was still surprisingly mellow for a wild creature. Its beautiful amber eyes watched me, Jen and her son Rory. As I attempted to loosen the sweatshirt from its talons, I was startled by how long they were. All this time I'd been worried about the beak, keeping my face well away, but those talons were inch-long black daggers. They could do serious damage.

I put the bird in a cat carrier with a dish of water, then resumed my search for help. Twitter and Facebook came through: First Martha with the website and phone number of Montana Raptor in Bozeman, which provided some helpful information, then Ann with Kate Davis's cell phone number. Kate gave me instructions on how to care for the hawk overnight until we could get it to a bird rescue in Stevensville in the morning. She said to cover the carrier and keep it as quiet and calm as possible. I put it in the mudroom for the night.

When I checked on the hawk before I went to bed at about 1 a.m. it was alert and upright. In the morning I went out and was shocked to discover it was dead.

I really thought it would make it.

Kate said it probably had internal injuries. She said there was nothing I or anyone could have done differently.


Kate suggested I bury the bird or take it to a vet for incineration, but neither of those options felt right to me. I wanted to honor its spirit. I decided on an open-air burial, to lay its body on top of a rock pile in the hills. I knew the coyotes would probably get it, but that was okay with me. I just wanted it to be in nature.


As I climbed up the rock pile holding the hawk, a large rock I was stepping on tilted, flipping me backwards. I hit the ground hard, my right ankle bending inward under me and the rock scraping the back of my left leg. The hawk's lifeless body landed next to me. The wind was knocked out of me and I knew my ankle was in big trouble. It took me a good five minutes to catch my breath and attempt to move my ankle. It's a good thing I was able to put weight on it, because I'd left my phone at home. What is usually a 10-minute downhill hike took me about 45 minutes of very painful hobbling.

I went for X-rays and fortunately, nothing was broken. I got a brace/wrap-type thingy, some good drugs and an excuse to stay in bed with my feet up for a few days. Today my ankle looks terrible, but feels much better. I'll survive, which is more than can be said for the hawk.

I've been tempted to look for a deeper meaning in all this. I seem to have some kind of kismet going on with birds lately; as one friend said, "What is it with you and birds?" I don't know. I don't have a clue. In fact, the way my life has been going, I'm really not sure of anything anymore.

posted by Patia  9:46 PM 12 Comments