Good Deeds

If one could get into heaven simply by rescuing birds and returning lost cell phones alone, I'd be a shoe-in. I can't count the number of times I've called the state wildlife people for the name of a local bird rescue volunteer in my area and then delivered an injured bird to that person. With all of the moving we've done, trying to track down the name of a local volunteer in each new area was never a simple task. I'd usually have to call three or four different wildlife number listings before reaching an actual live person to provide me with a volunteer's number. Then I'd have to call the volunteer, describe the type of bird, the apparent injury, get directions to their home, etc. We've lived here for nine years and I can recall at least six bird rescues just since we've lived here. There was the one my sister's cat attacked, one hopping around in our bushes unable to fly, one in the front yard under the tree, one that tried to fly but kept crashing into things, the list goes on. I always get a little jumpy and nervous when trying to capture them to put into a box, so Lauren usually ends up with that job. The most recent rescue was about two weeks ago and I can’t take credit for that one. It flew right into our back patio sliding glass door. It must’ve had bad eyes because I can’t remember the last time I “Windexed” that thing! Lauren and Caden were home alone and saw it happen. Lauren called me at work to find out where the “bird rescue lady” lived and I attempted to give her directions. I'd lost the phone number after my first visit. You’d think I would’ve gotten it during my 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th or even 6th visit, but that would've been too easy. The second time I went there, I just remembered what street she lived on and about how far down on the block the house was located, even though it had been dark during my first visit. I felt confident I was at the right house when I saw empty cages along the side of the driveway. I have repeated those same steps searching for the correct street and house each time since then and always vow not to leave without a phone number and address, but always forget. You should’ve heard me trying to explain to Lauren how to get there without a street name (I only remembered that it started with an A) and estimating about how far down the house was located. Lauren eventually found the house and delivered the injured bird. I'm sure it’s recovering well. I promise the next time we go, I’m going to get her phone number, address and possibly even her name so we can at least give her a heads up that we’re coming.

I found a blackberry on the ground at the ballpark a few nights ago. It turned out to belong to a mom on the opposing team that Cassidy was playing. Since I’m blackberry illiterate, a dad from our team helped me work the device and called the home number listed. We were told the owner should be at the ballpark watching a game and what team to look for. When I find a phone I always go through the address book or the last call dialed and start calling, hoping that person can track down the phone’s owner to let them know that someone has found their phone. One particular phone recovery was on an airport shuttle bus and I had to mail that one back to its rightful owner. I can’t count the number of phones I’ve returned. I did get my good deed payback last year when I dropped my cell at a rodeo cook-off we were attending.

Upon arriving home, I knew it was possibly lost but was hoping it had just fallen out somewhere in the car but at that point was too tired to go back out and search for it. That next morning Lauren woke me up bright and early, standing over my bed saying some man had just called her saying that he’d found my phone. He was leaving the rodeo grounds within the next ten minutes. Fortunately for me, he asked what booth I’d been to and it turned out he knew my cousin and agreed to drop it off at their booth. Otherwise, I never would’ve made the twenty-minute drive in ten minutes to catch this guy before he headed back home, which wasn’t close by. I guess it’s like a “pay it forward” kind of thing since I’ve been on the other end of the lost phone thing now. Birds, on the other hand, still like to poop on my car but I guess I’ll keep on saving them.

My Son and the Telephone

My son is so funny, even when he’s not trying to be. He's not the most phone savvy kid around. He's totally polite to the caller but he's not quite mastered the caller ID. We just haven't been able to keep him from answering unwanted calls and that's a major no-no in our house. He's starting to get it, but it has taken a while for it to sink in.

The other day when I called the house from work, he answered the phone sounding a bit apprehensive. He was confused and it took him a minute to realize that he was talking to me and then he said, "Oh, Mom? I was wondering who was calling here with a bad word name." I had to think about that comment for a moment.

I won't use my real company name, but let's just say that I work for a company called "Stevenson & Associates". We recently changed our phones over to a new provider and since that time we show up on the called ID display as Stevenson & Ass, not Stevenson & Assoc like we used to appear.

Apparently, he isn't the only one who has noticed. The office manager from our other office has put in a request to have that changed back from Ass to Assoc.

"This Finger"

My brother-in-law used to have the coolest employee swimming pool facility where my sister and I would take the kids regularly every summer for several years until they closed it. We were so bummed. We had many good times at that place. It was never crowded, our kids could be heathens and the baby pool had cold running water where we could sit in our chairs and watch the kids in the big pool. There are still some songs that played on the jukebox that remind me of the days we spent there. Great pool and good times.

My nephew was probably about seven or eight at the time and one day went to use the bathroom and was gone for an eternity. We thought he’d drowned. When he finally came back out his swimsuit was crooked and messed up, he was frowning and looking extremely agitated. He stormed over to his mom, and said something about having gone number two, and in this very deep, frustrated voice, mumbled something about his bathroom frustrations and then said, “And whatever you do, DON’T smell this finger, ” as he held up a finger that had apparently gotten in his way while attempting to wipe and wipe and wipe. Maybe this is a had to be there moment, but the poor guy had obviously been in there working and working on cleaning himself up after having some serious issues and he finally just gave up. The tone of his voice and his expression is what made this so funny so I hope I my written version does it justice.

Easter Weekend

We had a great Easter weekend. The kids and I went with Vicki and her family to see the Astros verses the Cardinals play last night, where we had our first win of the season. Unfortunately, the Cards spanked us today 10 to zip. Last night was the coldest game in history ever played at Minute Maid Park. They don’t have heat in the stadium, but at least we were smart enough to build one with a retractable roof and luckily it was closed. I don’t know what the temperature actually was outside, but trust me when I say it was brutally cold. It was raining when we left and by the time we made it to the car we were all soaking wet and shivering. Thank God I had my handy dandy blanket in the trunk of my car. I always keep one in there during the kid’s baseball/softball season. It saved us. We don’t handle the cold weather too well down here in Houston, especially when we’ve already adjusted to 80-degree weather over the past few weeks.

As usual, the kids got some cool stuff in their Easter baskets from their Grandma. I knew something was up when they kept trying to coax me to go into my bedroom. I wasn’t sure what they were up to and assumed they’d set me up with the new whoopie cushion, positioning it under my comforter for me to sit on or something. As soon as I got down the hall, I suddenly smelled something rank and wondered if the dog had had an accident. It was awful. Well, it turned out to be a stink bomb (if I’m remembering correctly what it’s actually called). Basically, it’s a bag of white chunks of junk, and it smells exactly like a rotten egg. Seriously, it almost singed my nose hairs. You shake it up and throw it and the bags pops open and the odor just reeks into the atmosphere. It’s totally disgusting. My son still has two bags left and is dying to use them on someone. He wanted to do one at my sister’s house today, where we were having lunch, but I wouldn’t let him. I was tempted, but didn’t want to suffer the consequences. The odor lingers forever and is totally gross.

We went to church this morning, which was a great service, and then over to my sister’s for fajitas. My brother-in-law makes the world’s best fajitas. My mom also made some killer pico and my sister made some awesome guacamole. I stuffed myself then disappeared upstairs for a much needed, nice long nap in my nephew’s bed. I thought I was being sneaky but everyone had no doubt as to my whereabouts. They all know me too well.

I was so impressed today with my niece and her gesture of kindness. My mom gave all of the kids an egg with $10 inside. My son was telling my niece, Megan, about how he almost had enough money saved up to by a Wii game system. He told her that he only needed 10 more dollars to buy one. I only heard part of their conversation before I saw her slide a ten-dollar bill across the table to Caden and heard her tell him to use that to get his Wii. I thought it was so sweet of her. Caden got up and gave her a big hug.

Happy 16th Birthday, Meggie Lou! (It was so sweet of you to give that money to Cade!)

I hope everyone had a Happy Easter.