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Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Look! In the Sky! It’s Superman! No, It’s a Plane! No, It’s a... Bird. Thunk.

For many, many reasons yesterday was an odd day and to emphasize that point, God seemed to send a signal at the end of the day that I shan't soon forget!

I'm standing outside with a friend of mine talking when all of the sudden, out of nowhere, this thing plops to the ground. I look at it and see the feathers to what looks to be a wing move slightly. Peering across the driveway, I note that it is, in fact, a bird. Looking up, I can still see the wires swaying back and forth and my heart gives a little tug for this bird that apparently just lost his life in a freak accident.

As we stood there however, it became apparent that the bird was still breathing, so... and this sounds so much worse than it really was... my friend picks up a big stick and starts poking at it. No movement. He uses the stick to roll it over and for another minute there is no movement. I, meanwhile, am calculating what it would be like to have a sick bird in my car, estimating time to get to the vet, thinking about bird flu, and trying to calculate how much I could spend to cure a bird I do not know. One more poke with the stick and all the sudden the little bird hops up to his feet...

And just stands there.

And stands there.

And stands there.

"He must have shocked himself stupid." I say sadly. "He's not moving at all."

Poke with the stick. "Nope. Maybe he fried his little bird brain."

"That's sad. I'd pick him up, but he'd probably bite me."


My friend walks closer and attempts to poke him with the stick again. No movement. Not even a head twitch. So we start speculating again what may have befell this little bird.

"He must have crashed into the wire and just fallen."

"Yeah, he must have hit it hard. He landed on his head."

"He must have shocked himself stupid." This comment once again brought on speculation about whether birds could actually electrocute himself, a closer examination, speculation about whether he was just learning to fly, and whether he still had his baby feathers.

Another poke with the stick. This time in the butt. (Again, just sounds SO much worse than it really was...) Again, no movement, but by now this poor little bird is breathing so hard he's on the verge of giving himself a heart attack.

My friend puts down the stick and picks up a few rocks, throwing them at the bird trying to get him to move. A foot! A head cock! Anything!


By this time, I am feeling sorry for this poor tortured bird. I take a few steps, thinking that I am going to attempt to pick him up and see how he's doing-- bird flu be damned! I take three steps toward the bird, and...

hop, hop, hop, hop, hop

He hops away from me!

And then just stands there. Not moving. No head bounce, no looking around, no wing movement, no head turning to see who these crazy people are that keep trying to torture him.

My friend then takes a wheelbarrow full of water and tries dumping it on the bird. Nothing.

Again, a few more rocks. Nothing.

So once again, I start walking toward it. You know what happens?!

The thing flies away!

LOL... So in conclusion, I have decided that... I am no Snow White. But apparently my friend is. Remarkable since... he's a man.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Do I Rule My House, or Does My House Rule Me?

I decided, about four hours ago, that I am too connected to my house. Or maybe, my house is too connected to me.

By the time that Short Person fell asleep on the couch, my house looked like one of those homes that you see on television shows where they either have to go in and condemn the place because the person had 45 cats and eight years of newspapers piled up, or the person got so desperate they hired one of those cleaning crews usually reserved for crime scene clean up. Or, maybe not. But it was definitely on the worse side of MESSY!

Usually when my blood pressure rises, I can feel it. It starts in my toes and depending upon the circumstance either bursts out the top of my head, or rests at about eyebrow level. Today, my blood pressure was resting somewhere around midforehead. It burst through when I walked into the bathroom and noticed along the way that Short Person had gotten hold of the baby powder and had managed to make my office look like a scene straight out of Scarface.

I'm afraid I didn't handle the situation as well as I could have, due in part to the fact that I was really tired, but also due to the fact that I felt like my life was out of control. Just looking at my house made me feel like I was living in a tornado with too much going on.

To make a long story short, Short Person fell asleep about ten minutes after the baby powder incident and I set to cleaning the house. I do it very methodically starting in the back bedroom and working my way to the kitchen, room by room. The end result is that my house is now clean, with the exception of about five loads of laundry I have to rewash because LJS picked up a gallon of Fabric Softener instead of Laundry Detergent and I didn't notice until he pointed out the error today-- and ew! I just can't wear dirty clothes. They need soap! But I digress...

The end result is that my house is now clean, and instead of the crazy, overwhelmed, bitchy person that ruled the roost for most of the day, I am now calm, happy, and relaxed. It made me wonder... do I rule the house, or does the house rule me?

I'm the same way at work, come to think of it. If the place is a mess, don't talk to me. If my desk is in orderly little piles... I'm probably kicked back and joking with you. Oddest thing.

LOL... or I'm just psychotic and should be committed. Considering how clean and white those rooms are, I'd probably be happier there than any place else in the world.

Psycho am I.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Short Person and the Boyfriend

This is really a post I expected to be writing in another eight years, if I were realistic, ten years if I was hopeful, and 13 years if I wore rose-colored sunglasses Not now. NOT at age three. But here it is...

Short Person has a Boyfriend.

His name is Daniel. Cute little guy. I think he might be a few years older than she is though.

Anyway, we're at a friend's daughter's softball game, sitting on the bleachers cheering and this little boy comes over and stands in front of us. Actually, he leans in front of us, against the fencing and just smiles at Short Person-- who doesn't give him the time of day. No, she's busy playing. Walking up and down the bleachers in her own little pretend world of wonder. He stays there for about five minutes before going back to his parents.

I thought I was the only one that noticed the whole play, but I should have known better. In Short Person fashion, sometime between being disgusted with the catcher and first baseman and the 9th inning she'd managed to win over the hearts and smiles of all the people seated on the bleachers with us.

I forget what started the discussion, but something sparked a round of how funny and cute she was and lively conversations about her antics of the past couple hours-- including her having totally blown off the boy that tried to flirt with her. No sooner had the words been said than the boy came back to be in front of us. No longer leaning against the fencing, but now standing in front of Short Person with a wistful "She's so beautiful" expression on his little face.

Short Person was once again oblivious, much to the now laughing delight of all the people around us watching this whole interlude.

But alas, it was not meant to last. At some point the two of them were introduced and Short Person went through the motions. "I'm shy, Mommy." while coquettishly looking over my shoulder at him. Then, eye batting, then games of chase, until finally, they were playing together. Him like a love-stuck dog, she like she knew she was in control of the world.

By the time we left, even she was saying that he was her "boyfriend". Oui Vey. We still have eight or so games to go. This could be very, very bad.


Sunday, June 17, 2007

A Good Day / Symbolic Dreams

My husband actually got a day off, so even though both of us had a long list of "to do's" we decided to take Short Person to the Strawberry Festival and pet the animals in the barn, go down the slide (which she did without hesitation 100-200 times), and ride the hay ride to the strawberry fields.

Now, my husband has the worst allergies I've ever seen on anyone. He just can't seem to stop sneezing. So, you can imagine what about 50 acres of grass seed and a hay ride did for him. He was so miserable the entire time I'm surprised he was able to stay standing. But he did it. Toughed it out for two and a half hours.

He must love us a lot... cause that's the only explanation I come up with for that one.

There also seems to be a light at the very end of what has been a long, long tunnel. After three months of working 15 hour days and weekends, the owner of the company looked at the only person higher on the ladder than my husband and said very bluntly, "He's not working this schedule forever." My husband, seemingly interceding on the other guy's behalf for some reason, said "No, just until they don't need me at night anymore."

I asked when that might be and LJS replied, "Maybe another month." One month... I can deal with that. The light is getting brighter.

Thank God.


I had some strange dreams the other night. I know two of them are symbolic-- one very obviously so, the other... not so much.

In the first, I dreamed that I was trying to do something (can't remember what) and short person had my right arm and would not let go. She kept pulling at it so that I could not get anything done.

This dream would be the obvious one.

In the second, I dreamed that I opened the car door (a station wagon if you can believe that) and inside of it (yes, it was my car) were a dog, a cat, and a mouse. They all seemed to get along, and even had what I believed to be a playful relationship. I didn't notice this, however, until I took the dog out of the car. I remember being startled that there had also been a cat and a mouse in there too and that they were all still alive.

Weird. I don't get that one, although I suppose if I looked in the dream dictionary I'd find something. I just thought it was interesting.

Either that, or this would be a really good lesson learned about why we do not watch four hours of Ghost Hunters before going to bed. LOL...

I do love that show though. Those guys are great. They won't say something is haunted for anything! Freaking levitation could happen and all they would say is "Yeah, looks like you've got some strange occurrences here, but I'm not ready to call it haunted."

haha... I do have to say, however, that I like it when they debunk the place too-- almost as much as when they catch something freaky on camera.