Monday, March 2, 2009
This blog is taking a sick day again today. I've not been this sick in decades and can barely get out of bed without wanting to collapse. There was a point on Sunday morning where I was debating whether I should call 911 or Foster Faulkner Funeral Home, it was that bad. Evidently the flu bug is having a great big laugh at the fact that I had a flu shot this year.
However, before I return to bed to continue my sweat bath, I thought I'd share a brief story about these water fowl above.
One day about a week ago, I was working diligently at my computer, and when I say "working diligently" what I really mean is "wasting yet another day on the internet while all my chores go unattended."
All of a sudden, I heard my mother pounding on the door, screaming. "Chesapeake Bay Woman! Chesapeake Bay Woman!" she hollered as she knocked fast and furiously.
Oh, no, I thought. This is it. The big one. Somebody--probably my father--is seriously injured or worse. She sounded hysterical. Racing to the door, I prepared myself for the worst. When I opened the door, she spilled inside clutching a book and waving some binoculars. "Look! Look! Look at those geese in the creek."
"Those geese" were the very birds you see above, which are not usually seen in our creek. Rather, they're never seen in our creek. She had her bird manual out trying to identify exactly which sort of goose they were.
"Hurry up and get your camera! Quick!"
Relieved that nobody was dead, but unable to rise to her level of enthusiasm, I slowly plodded to get my camera. "Hurry up!! Hurry!" she repeated.
I wasn't even dressed for the day but was quickly escorted outside in 25 degree weather to take this and a few other pictures. In my robe. After just returning from the land of "Somebody's seriously injured or worse." It's not a quick and easy journey back from that place.
I'm not a water bird expert at all. Even my mother (who is one) could not identify which kind of geese these are. If she hadn't kept calling them geese, I'd have said they were swans. But of course I've been known to be wrong once or twice in my life, particularly with anything involving facts or details.
Here's a fact that is accurate: I'm going back to bed where I will be for at least another 24-48 hours, marinating in my own sweat and babbling deliriously from fever, which is only slightly different from my normal delirious babbling without a fever.