Tuesday, May 10, 2011

true story

I was walking down the brick stairs from work, chattin' away with my co-worker.  I thought I had landed the last step--I was wrong.  My foot skidded down on the pavement and a shock went up my body.  Ouch.  I stubbed my toe.  

If you haven't stubbed your toe in awhile, I'll let you know that it hurts really bad.  I got in my car and let out a yelp.  And maybe a few dirty words.  And then I tried to call Andrew to tell him about my toe, maybe receive a little pity over the phone.  It went straight to voicemail.  He refuses to get a new phone.  He's perfectly happy with the one that just decides to power off whenever it wants to. 

So things became very clear in my state of pain.  This was all Andrew's fault. 

This is a wonderful gift that women seem to have & use in opportunities like this--like when the shelf above the laundry machine falls.  His fault.  

When I got home and THEN saw that he had not vacuumed, I not only had a stubbed toe & a fiance who won't answer his phone but now I had a messy house.  Life was starting to swirl in front of my face like a tornado (that's how things look in my world when I fall into these places).

When he walked in the door a few minutes later, I laid down the law.  Thankfully, Andrew did not lose his cool on his slightly off centered fiance and he just let me vent.  Then we laughed, as we usually do when I get my panties in a wad over the tiny things.  I made him kiss my toe and then I told him that I would start on dinner.  

Except in my toe pain & phone rage I forgot to stop by the grocery store.  After opening the fridge I realized there was only one option---possibly the best option:  BREAKFAST FOR DINNER.  It was biscuits and gravy time.

I put on my new apron that I found in a thrift store and started to work.  (ps.  this is the best apron EVER.  It has a towel sewed into it for easy wiping.  How genius!)

After making some DANK (it's my new cool word to use) gravy and hockey puck biscuits we went to feed the chickens some left over scraps--mainly my hard as a rock biscuits.  I wondered whether they would hurt if I threw them at Andrew, so naturally I threw a biscuit at Andrew's head while he was tying is shoe.  It thudded and I got yelled at.  Sorta.  But then we laughed it off.  (or at least I did)
Our 30 chicks & 1 rooster!  Andrew & his brother in law made the coop themselves. :) 

After feeding the chickens we came inside and I started making up words to a song.  A song about biscuits & gravy.  I kept coming up with verse after verse.  Folks, I haven't written a full song like that in a looooooooong time.  I have been waiting and praying for patience and then BOOM I get a vision and it turns out to be about biscuits and gravy.  Go figure.  But I can't be picky-prayers were answered.

In the middle of busting out my new tune for Andrew we heard a crash.  Our eyes locked and we knew what it was.  Our baby birds*.

We flew out of the door and found the box on the back porch floor and Andrew screamed "GET OLIVIA!!!".  She was about to attack a baby bird on the side of the house.  Now, we all know how much I love (obsess over) my cat but I threw that child away from the bird and then scooped her chubby butt up and threw her into a car.  I went back to see the baby bird, fearing the worst.  It was so dark out it was hard to make her out but then I saw her on the ground.  I got all Nat Geo and scooped her up with my hands.  Her little heart was going a million miles an hour--and so was mine. 

One baby bird had stayed in the nest and I sat their sister (or I guess it could be a brother) in the nest with him.  We were still missing one bird.  Andrew had seen it flop to the other side of the porch.  We searched and searched and then feared the worst.  But then a flop on the side of the hill caught out attention.  We found her!!!!!!!!  

All birdies were safe and sound in the nest.  I felt like I had just been in a war zone and poured a stiff drink.  We prayed that momma bird would come back & googled every scenario possible (what did we do before the internet machine?).  

This morning, as soon as I woke up, I ran to the back porch.  All babies were in the nest in the right position and Mama bird had just flown up with a worm in her mouth.  It felt like Christmas morning.  I jumped on Andrew in bed to tell him the news.  In his sleepy slur he smiled and said yay and then promptly asked me to turn the coffee on for him. 

The morning after:  scene of the crime

He called later this morning to tell me that it looks like Mom and Dad are teaching the babes how to fly.  They were out in the yard practicing.  I wonder what their conversation was after last night to prompt this first flight class.  

I had many waves of emotions yesterday.  Call it hormones, call it life.  It's amazing what can happen in the span of a few hours. 

And that is my true story.  :)

*I was wrong about the number of birds--there were really only 3


PJH said...

I love your little story and I love this: "Life was starting to swirl in front of my face like a tornado (that's how things look in my world when I fall into these places)." It reminds me of Dorothy. And myself.

Alexandra said...

so glad the little birdies are all okay! as i was reading the part where you picked up the baby bird, i had a momentary panic attack that the momma bird would never return. i quickly remembered your dispelling of that myth, and breathed a huge sigh of relief!

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