Baby Pigeon
I’ll just shut up and show you – I’ve asked too, “How come I’ve never seen a baby pigeon?” Because they don’t leave the nest until full grown. Trust me, I took a long time learning this. (On, may I say, a nest of ‘pigeon not perch’ guarding. lol. Here’s a baby.
There you have it. Proof they are young. And yes, you may use the photos.
Just link them to me.
The day I knew I was a grown up, then so wasn’t.
I spent the last couple of days sleeping, and when not sleeping, trying not to cough.
Not because it hurt, because, oh, it did – but, because I’ve never been that ‘Sniffle, sniffle, oh can’t you see I’m sniffling because I’m sick??’ girl.
Person even. Not just girl.
You know those people. Those people who are sick, but the minute you ASK them, “How are you?” suddenly develop more of a cough or MORE of a sniffle – for emphasis. And bless those that need that attention. But I wear big girl panties.
Ok, I’m stubborn.
So, after fighting a fever the day after the failure of a fun lunar eclipse night – I knew I had Tuesday off due to a text message. I had informed my employees that I had pink eye for the sole purpose of them maybe just not touching the phone I used or my mouse in my absence on Monday (my planned ‘vacation’ day off.)
I was informed, do not show up Tuesday.
Couldn’t really argue because I was having a hard time standing or feeling human on Monday.
So I didn’t.
And I slept.
I slept SO hard. I felt awful. My throat was now hurting. When I say ‘hurting’ – I’ve been through a vaginal birth with no epidural – so … on a scale from 1-10, breathing AIR was like someone had a freaking flame thrower in my throat. Although, we ARE in the desert.
Today, I stumbled up and dressed and went in early to handle two days worth of ‘without’ me inbox. Hoping there would be an inbox like that anyway.
And there was! Yay! I am relevant.
Although, I was also with strep throat.
I didn’t know until this morning.
My tongue reminded me of that scene from Jurassic Park.
And yeah, here’s a real one … gird your loins.
BUT! I thought, so cleverly, I broke fever yesterday – surely I can’t be contagious – so I went in, cleared my inbox, cleared my email – felt … miserable. BUT! Accomplished.
And I’m TRYING not to cough.
Then the phone rings, and in an attempt to try NOT to cough, I ended up swallowing phlegm and sounding as sick as I felt. To one of my bosses. On the other end of the phone.
Wonderful. Not.
I did NOT want to use anymore sick time!
I was being SUCH a grown up!
And – was told to go home.
I researched strep throat, assured my boss that I would be a full 24 hours on antibiotics and could I PLEASE come in to work tomorrow?
(That’s another grown up part. Although I didn’t take any before, I had some. I was saving them for when Nic was sick, but, now he has insurance.)
I was told no.
And proceeded to lose it.
Didn’t feel well, was scared of them doing well without me and … the dam burst.
First I’m in Nic’s arms, (trying not to breathe on him) after he asked me why I’m crying.
Then, I’m in the lap of my honey and choking out, “I just don’t FEEL well and I want to be at WOOOORK and … OMG! DO YOU SEE THAT????? I have OLD WOMAN LEG WRINKLES!”
Yeah. I lost it.
And he was like a deer in headlights.
And I’m wiping my nose, bawling and pacing and spraying that awful numbing medicine down my throat and still crying – and it’s a carnival of … horrible!
Then came … “And I …. I … I want my MOM!”
Who, I should mention, is currently in England.
BACK from adulthood to being a child.
Amazingly though, after getting THAT out of my system, and managing somehow to make my throat feel worse (surprise, surprise) my emotional state feels better.
Sometimes we just need that love.
To be vulnerable.
To admit, we feel f&*%ing awful and need someone.
Only now it’s not just mom. That hug Nic gave me meant the world to me – and concern was in his eyes (as was horror, but lets face it, I don’t look too hot – which, WAS confirmed by another boss this morning.)
And as for my future husband? He reminded me that there is a reason he does not work in a hospital. But I’ll give him this, he offered me ice this weekend and left me alone to sleep. That’s a deer in headlights with some kindness.
As for work?
I know they don’t want to get sick. They can’t. They don’t have time for it. I also know they love me.
Nesting, the Pope and hamster bites
Me: Do you want our room to be ‘Nerdvana’ and our living room to be ‘Nirvana’ or the other way around?
Him: What?
Me: I mean, do you want our bedroom to be tranquil and our living room to represent our fandom?
Yeah. I was wide awake now. After laundry, I got a ‘nesting’ thing going on. And yeah, discovered I was sick.
Didn’t matter.
Woke Nic up to take his meds, and dug in.
I had energy from God knows where and I was up for it!
We have cleaned things and moved things and adjusted things that haven’t even been LOOKED at in months.
I was determined to have a strange and new clean place to wake up to tomorrow, after spending tonight behind the lens on the tripod. SO excited about the moon.
Had the Pope on the whole time, and let tears run as I acknowledged what an authentic person he is.
Then came mass. And I realized why I am NOT a Catholic. No offense. But I think even God would be like, “Ok, this is running a bit long, there are people out there we could be helping.”
Just me.
In my not so humble opinion.
I, the anti-organized religious chick, is SO in love with the pope.
Back to the other weird stuff I love.
So, now the living room is nerdville. And trust me when I say, this is a FRACTION of the shite we have. And when I say ‘shite’ I mean, stuff we care A LOT about.
So bedroom turned into this:
There is so little to do with what we have. BUT! What we have is so appreciated. We are all grateful for the roof, the food, the family … But will my home grace the cover of ‘Home and Garden’. LMAO! Nah.
Doesn’t matter.
What matters is family. And I’ve spent time with not only my honey, but my son throughout the day. Then I tried the animals.
I brought Nic’s hamster out of the cage – and while I do not want to pat myself on the back (OH! I SO totally DO!) when she bit me – not once, not twice, but 5 *&%$ing times – I didn’t flinch. I didn’t want to hurt her teeth!
I certainly didn’t want to fling her across the room, and trust me, that was HARD! Kept calm, placed her back into her cage after she ‘released’ and then tended to my wounds.
Pope is still on TV. I’m still loving him. Tripod is ready for the night – and I’m SO grateful. For everything. For everyone. And thank you to the Pope for being an amazing REAL person who blessed us with his visit. I teared up more watching him than anytime in my past. He gives me hope for religion. #THEREISSUCHGOOD
Musings from the Laundromat: Kind Doctors and Missing my Baby Boy edition.
Pretty much sums it up this morning. YAWN! Today is a big day! I took tomorrow off so I can stay up past my bedtime and photograph the ‘Super Blood Moon Total Lunar Eclipse!” Sounds like a really bad SyFy movie sequel title no? Anyway, I’m stoked.
So, remember when back when we were in school and we’d have a rare sighting of one of our teachers outside of school? I had a moment like that Friday.
I took my lunch break to grab some produce from the 99 cent store, and who should be walking across the parking lot toward me? My laundry lady! So odd seeing her outside of this place.
‘This’ place by the way, is 90% men today. They’re all sort of aimlessly figuring things out and not talking to one another.
There’s two in that photo. Problem is, I was preparing to take a photo of the machines behind ‘sitting guy.’ Looked like a face to me – two frothy white eyes and a laundry basket mouth. But, then he plopped down and my washing machine face was obscured.
Speaking of faces (this is going to be a really bad segue) I have pink eye.
I was wondering why when I blinked it felt like I had sandpaper on the inside of my eye lids.
The sweet sharer of this condition is my darling son.
Poor kid hasn’t felt good in a week. We treated it like a bug, but yesterday morning, he was up and dressed when I got up. Rare. Very rare.
“I’m going to the hospital. I have lumps in my throat.”
We did the flashlight thing, and while his tonsils did look enlarged, no white spots so I was glad of that.
“Hold on, lemme get dressed, I’ll come with you.”
So off we went.
His comment when I snapped this pic “Really mom? I look awful!” As if that was going to stop me. Pffft. He SHOULD know me by now.
Then while waiting, I started poking around the room a little.
Good to know – nicely labeled – wait … WAIT … WHAT?
‘Vag’ light? There HAD to be more label available to spell that one out no? I mean, clearly the drawer above it isn’t abbreviated.
“Pass me a vag light, stat!”
I was in stitches laughing (no pun intended.)
Doctor came in, really nice guy.
He inspected my offspring as Nic asked him, “Do you see the lumps?” and proceeded to show the DOCTOR a photo he’d taken of his own throat. “Nic! He’s a doctor! He’s looking in your mouth.” I was amused. As if the doc (since we’re shortening things) was going to say, “OH! Jeez – thanks for pointing THAT out – can NOT believe I missed seeing that.” Anyway, doc then announced ear and throat infection – AND, pink eye.
It should be noted that while my son has insurance, I do not. And that’s not the reason I brought this up, but I casually said to the doctor, “Would that explain why I feel like someone threw sand in my eye?”
The doctor looked at me very seriously and said, “You’re not asking me to diagnosis someone I’m not treating are you?” I must have had a look of horror on my now red face because he quickly followed that up with a small smile and, “Because, I’ll be giving him a refill for the eye drops for someone I’m NOT consulting.”
I loved that doctor then. I mean, these days, who DOES that? So Nic and I are set when it comes to our eyeballs.
We then went to the pharmacy and put his antibiotic, pain and eye prescriptions in capable hands before running a few errands.
I have to say – and this may make me sound like a HORRIBLE mom, but, this past week while he’s been under the weather, there’s a part of me that liked it. No, I didn’t like that he was sick. No, I don’t have munchausen by proxy syndrome … It was just nice that my grown man of a son needed me. And let me stroke his hair off of his fevered forehead. That he was my little boy again. That I got to mother him.
I miss him needing me. I miss being strong for him. Protecting him.
And while I’m sure some would argue that the above are still true, it was just nice to hug him after bringing him a cold drink and him not letting go quickly.
How I tire of warning lights … or Feeling the pressure
Ok, no more puns.
Here’s what happened.
I made the mistake of ‘showing off’ my new-to-me car yesterday to my mom. I was proud and showing all her (yes, she’s a ‘she’) little cup holders and knobs and gadgets etc.
Anyway, after my visit and about 3/4 of the way home, a warning light came on my dash.
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
No! No! No! No!
Not again! I drove with my stomach in knots all the way home ( Stomach was also obviously hugging my lungs for comfort as I couldn’t breathe either. I don’t blame it. I wanted to cling to something for comfort too – the steering wheel just wasn’t cutting it.)
Here is the light:
I got home. Grabbed the manual from the glove compartment and scoured the warning section for the horse shoe image with the exclamation point in the middle.
Tire pressure?!
TIRE PRESSURE??
I was thrilled! And, very willing to admit I was also surprised that I had such a new fangled thingy alerting me of said tire pressure.
Wow.
“M’am, your tires could use some air.”
“Oh, thank you Cadbury, I’ll handle that in the morning.”
And I did.
Thing about tires and air (girls – listen up) you have to check and fill them ‘cold’. Which basically means, not driven on for more than a mile for a while (at least 3 hours).
Ideally, leave your car sitting and do this at home, but I had to go to a gas station, not having an air pump at my disposal.
So off I went. Starting out the day early and with hope in my car heart …
It ended in blood and cost me $3.00
Our local store has a gas station that will let you use the air for free if you get gas. I filled up there yesterday. So, Ms. Morals, didn’t feel comfortable asking for free air today. (I should have.)
I was smart. Took all the caps off first. Yanked that freaking hose out of the machine and shoved 4 quarters in.
Seriously though, WHAT is INSIDE those things that is pulling BACK on the hose???? It’s a tug of war just to reach the back tires. Then, you have to step on the hose so it doesn’t slap back into its nest – like a tape measure after you take the lock off.
I have created a rendition of how this looks for you. I’ll remind you, I am NOT the artist in the family. But I think I captured my lunge quite well.
I did lose my grip at one point – and was thrilled to discover that part of the hose was bare to the metal and sliced my finger as it tried to return to its home base.
So, I’m bleeding, trying to read the useless gauge (Note to self: Invest in a good air pressure gauge) and I’ve only managed to do two tires as the machine clunks OFF.
I walked the hose back, (more accurately, it walked ME back – like a yanking ginormous dog was on the other end of it) grabbed more quarters, inserted and repeated.
I was on my 3rd set of quarters and feeling the burn from my hose capture lunge, when a man came over to offer help.
(Keep in mind, I’m in my work clothes and clearly struggling against the strength of the freaking hose. Reminds me of THIS post from the past https://debaucherysoup.com/2014/03/03/monday-roadkill/)
He kindly helped me finish up by having the attendant turn the machine on for free.
I showed him my finger boo boo, like a war-weary soldier needing someone to understand “the things I’ve seen man … the things I’ve seen.”
I got back into the car with hope. I got back into the car with, let’s face it, a cramp in my leg at this point. Turned on the car and … warning light when OFF!
TRIUMPH! (Now, can someone kiss my finger and find me a band-aid?)






















