birds of a feather

i don't have good luck with birds.

i was standing by the see-saw in elementary school when i felt something hit my head. curiously, i put my hand up to see what it was. i found a substance that looked curiously like my sandwich that day, and for one weird moment i thought, "i ate my whole sandwich...so how did i get it in my hair?" and then it hit me. bird poop.

i figured it out at about the same time as all the other see-sawers who kindly pointed and laughed as i ran off to the school nurse. she tried her best to wipe it out with those smelly brown paper towels. but i had to go the rest of the day with crusty crap on my head.

it doesn't end there.

in fifth grade on a fishing trip, i got bird shit on my leg. fortunately my dad was there to save the day.

fast forward to adulthood. while on the beach with my parents, more bird poop on my head. this tme i had a very adult reaction, i cried. why me, birds? why me?

even further into adulthood while driving to disney, john shouts "duck!" so naturally, we both duck in our seats. in that moment i see an actual duck struggling to get out of the way of my windshield and failing, cue thud. i didn't know if i should laugh or cry so i did both. john had to ask me to run the windshield wipers to get rid of the big wet streak that poor duck left in its wake.

this is not that duck. although i was assured it was ok.

a few months later, i was doing some christmas shopping outlets. it was a windy day and as i took my next step i saw the wind blow something under my foot. i tried to change my footing but as my right foot went down i felt something soft and squishy under it. i was afraid to look back, and i never should have.

i had stepped on a bird. don't even ask how that is possible.

i called john. i called my sister. i cried. bless her heart, she said the bird was probably sick and i put it out of its misery.

and it doesn't even end there.

back in disney last weekend we were walking from canada to england when i felt something hit my head and then saw bird poop hit the ground in front of me. it was the see-saw all over. john pointed and laughed as i shrunk off to the bathroom and wiped it out of my hair with toilet paper.

i text my sister who gave me the standard "that means good luck" reply. everybody who has NEVER been pooped on, says this.

now, i don't have a bad life by any means. i feel pretty fortunate. i wouldn't mind being a little richer, but who wouldn't. i don't even dislike birds. (well with the exception of lunch-stealing seagulls). everytime i see a cardinal, i feel my grandma nana close by. i wouldn't change anything about my life.

no, i just wish i had better luck with birds.