Do you think I could ask for time off?

Something happened on Monday that has taken me days to come to terms with, and to acknowledge that it ACTUALLY happened:

I got hit by a bird!

On my back!!

A real, live, bird!!!

I literally almost had a heart attack when it happened, and I swear I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!

Here’s the story*:

I’m out for my daily walk around campus, which I love, because I’m able to enjoy the beauty of nature, college-kiddie watch (which sounds kind of creepy), and contemplate the meaning of life**.

As I was turning the corner past the football field and into the parking lot, I saw something swoop out of the corner of my eye, and then “THUMP” on my back.

My initial thought was “Stupid football boy, hitting an old lady with a ball!”***

But, when I turned around to pick up the ball (and yell out “Finders keepers!” to the offending fella), I saw to my horror, shock, and dismay, that it was not a ball, but, (shudder) a bird!

A little bird! A fledgling!****

When I saw the poor creature, I was overcome with compassion, gently picked it up and placed it in a nearby bush…okay, not really.

I screamed, and started shaking out my shirt to try to get the bird cooties off it, while looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed my attack. (No one had. Praise to the heavens! How embarrassing…)

Then I quickly ran into the bathroom of the science building to see if I had bird blood, feathers, or poop*****stuck to my shirt. (I didn’t. Which was a miracle. Because I totally would have thrown up.)

Once I calmed down, realized there wasn’t any permanent damage to my WHITE LACY shirt (although, there was to my soul) and got a drink of water, I went back outside to view the carnage.

Only…

The bird was gone!! He (or she) had survived!! And its parents******had come to collect him (or her).

And, I have to say, although I was slightly sad to not have proof of my assault, I was relieved to know it hadn’t died by hitting my back fat.

Overall, I’m still greatly upset by the whole thing. The rest of this week, I’ve kept my eyes scanning the heavens, and debated carrying my nunchucks as a visual threat to all others.

But, so far, no other wayward bird attacks.

I’ll keep you posted.



*Oh, how I wish you were here to hold my hand while I re-live this…

**Although, truth be told, on this particular walk I was trying to talk myself out of watching the new season of Tori and Dean. (Don’t judge!)

***My second thought was “Am I always going to get hit by a ball? I thought I left that behind in Junior High, and then High School, and then Community College! I mean, really?”

****Thank you Ornithology class! You didn’t cure my fear of birds, but you did give me the proper terminology to describe it. (P.S. A fledgling is a “toddler” bird learning to find food, water, shelter, and fly while not hitting people in the back, etc.)

*****Another tidbit learned in my bird class. Birds have no control over their sphincter. They poop indiscriminately.

****** Fledgling birds are always watched by their parents. They’re learning, after all.

I Am a Childless Child of God…

So, I’ve been thinking of my spinster-ly status lately.

I think because I just had my 34th birthday and I’ve been feeling my age these last couple of days. (Most of the time, I don’t feel my age. I feel about 25.)

And I’ve been thinking about where I thought I would be at 34 and what I thought I’d be doing. (Don’t we all do this to some extent?)

And as you can imagine, I didn’t think I’d be doing the single and childless thing.

No, I thought by 34 I’d be almost done having kids. At the very least, I thought I’d be in the middle of having kids. I certainly didn’t think the closest I’d be to having kids was standing next to someone else’s!

For the most part, this hasn’t bothered me. I’ve loved continuing my education, exploring my artistic side, writing, traveling, deeply studying the gospel, and a host of other activities that I’ve done to create a fulfilling life.

I’ve had opportunities to serve, to love, to laugh, and, thanks to my nephews, to mother.

And I’ve rarely felt bummed at church.

I read a statement in a book by Sister Oaks that perfectly sums up my feelings. It was something like “I signed up for the WHOLE gospel, not the singles’ edition.” So lessons on families, marriage, or any other similar topic don’t offend me or make me sad. I know the church is true—even if at this time, it’s not all “true” for me.

But, there are times when I think of my younger self and all the plans I had of being a wonderful mother, and an awesome (and I do mean awesome) wife. And these times are hard.

And tears are shed.

And “Why not me?” is asked.

And the only thing that comforts me is the spirit whispering that my life is just as valid as the next; that I’m on the Lord’s errand, and that He’s proud of me.

This past Sunday was one of those hard times.

I was teaching my Beehives a lesson on their Divine role as women. I asked them what they thought that role was.

And how do you think they responded?

“To be a wife and mother.” Yep.

And then I asked, “Is that the divine role of all women?”

“Yes,” they answered.

And I followed that with “What about me? I'm not married, and I don’t have children. Does that mean I’m not fulfilling my divine role?”

Silence.




Yep, this Sunday was a tough one.

An Old-timer's Christmas

So, now that the election is over, [eyes looking skyward as I say a silent prayer of gratitude that I don’t have to endure any more political commercials], I can focus my attention on more important things… like what I want for Christmas!

And as I’ve been making my list (and checking it twice), I’ve realized something horribly sad and pathetic:

I’m an old lady!

Gone are the days where I wanted highly frivolous and fun things (like a Barbie mini-van or Mr. T jewelry kit).

Now I want, well… need, extremely practical and boring things (which fully place me in the “old lady” category).

Don’t believe me?

Here are my top three Christmas “wishes”:

1. A shredder.

2. Sheets.

3. Grocery Bag Holder. (Seriously.)

If I added undies, socks, and some kind of ointment, I’d be able to apply for my senior citizens discount!

(Although, with my birthday right around the corner, you never know!)


So, please, if you have any fun Christmas present ideas, leave me a comment. I’m too young to be so utilitarian…