WELL, I'LL BE A DIRTY BIRD

Our two baby robins flew their coop yesterday. The fat, fuzzy munchkins didn’t go far. One settled on the backyard patio, perched on a chair, and proceeded to poop up a storm ALL afternoon. After it finally got the courage to move onward and upward, I pulled latrine duty, scrubbed away the droppings, and hosed down the area. The other chirper was happier in the front yard, choosing to fertilize the garden areas. Fortunately, I left my camera in Pittsburg last week, so there are no graphic pictures to show off.

Which brings to mind my first day in high school, sophomore year, Fredonia. I was wearing a new dress, gray bodice, white and gray checked full skirt, and matching checked jacket. One chic chick. I suspect I was wearing gray penny loafers and toting a gray purse. A vision in gray matter.

The early morning routine at FHS was to gather at the wall in front of the building and talk with friends until the bell rang, at which point we had three minutes to haul ass to class. This particular special day went awry, however. As I was walking up the north front door steps, SPLAT!!! A damned bird did “Bombs Away” on the left shoulder of my new dress!! What were the odds of that happening?

What’s a girl to do? Dash to the restroom to clean it up and risk being late to class on the first day of high school? Hope that the dropping blended in with the material, which it sort of did? Take off the stylish matching jacket that was now tainted and keep it in my locker until lunch hour, when there would be more time for a turd wash? Well, I opted for the quick clean-up job and somehow made it to class on time--frazzled, a bit damp on the shoulder, but crap-free. What a relief. I’d get to save the ol’ “Bird Shit on the Dress” tardy excuse for some other day.