Friday, April 23, 2010

The Scene In Which I Restore My Karma, Lose My Voice, Eat Some Chocolate, and Open A Store (In No Particular Order).

OH HEY THERE, blog world.

It seems like the last few weeks have really been flying by. I was talking to a good friend of mine today, E, who I haven't talked to in awhile (and who passed the bar exam! woot!) and she asked how my trip to Florida was. "Gosh," I thought/said, "it was so long ago, I have to think about it!"


(I miss Florida).

Apparently this is what happens when you decide that it is a really good idea to try to move everything from your house to a new store, whilst trying to get ready for a two 1/2 week off-site show, whilst trying to meet with five new clients, whilst trying to spring-clean your entire house since of course, you've just moved all your small-business stuff out of it.

I'm pretty thankful for the leftover Easter candy I have to get me through this- that and the fact that some genius finally made Junior Mints in a box that is actually one serving size, as opposed to the typical 3 or 4 servings found in a box or in a candy bar.

Seriously, WHAT good is that to me?

If I'm in a place where I'm actually buying a whole candy bar, I think it is safe to assume that I want to EAT. THE. ENTIRE. BAR. RIGHT NOW. Regardless of calories. And I'd like the makers of candy bars to investigate why they think it is a good idea to list how many calories would be in, say, 1/3 of the bar at any given time. It just makes us feel bad, dudes!

I digress. But yes, you read correctly, I HAVE A STORE!! Pleased to announce that the flower biz has vacated the condo's kitchen and is now in the process of being organized into "something resembling a workspace and storefront" in the Butler Tarkington neighborhood. More info to follow.

In addition to the craziness that you might expect that to bring, I've managed to lose my voice due to being a dumbass and playing Sing Star while already hoarse from allergies allergy-inflicted laryngitis, which I am assured has nothing to do with anything I may or may not have done, said or sung but rather the massive amount of pollen wreaking havoc on the sinuses of Indianapolis this spring.

(Ignoring the fact that it gave me laryngitis, can I get a big THANKS UNIVERSE for the awesome spring weather this year? As in, we've actually had a spring? Not just a day where I turned off the heat and then later in the day turned on the AC * thank you, I grew up in Chicago * but a real, live, rainy, warm, plants-growing, people working outside, gardens blooming, SPRING? Love.) (Finnigan loves spring too. And eating my plants).

Back to the fact that for the better part of this week I've sounded like a teenage boy who hasn't, ummm.......well you know what he hasn't had happen yet.

I suspect that some of the laryngitis may have been universal retribution, which I have also attempted to amend this week after losing some major karma during an altercation involving a dead baby bird (DBB) last week.

I debated sharing this story, because it is AWFUL and will MAKE YOU CRY and will possibly make you want to punch me while crying out "WHY? WHYYYYY?"

In other words, Mom, stop reading now. Also any small children that might be reading this. (Sidenote- WHY would you be reading this blog if you are a small child?? Get off the Internet and go play outside! Sheesh!)

Here's the thing.

'Tis the season for baby birds and, hence, the season for baby birds to fall from nests. Because they haven't clued into the fact that Finnigan is blind, birds tend to avoid my porch as a nest-making option. Therefore, I am less clued-into watching out for the helpless fledglings and DBB's as others might be.

But last week I went to deliver flowers to someone's house and that's where THE AWFUL THING HAPPENED.

Unbeknownst to me as I traipsed up the front walk with a vase of flowers blocking my view, the homeowner had just removed a nest that she didn't know had eggs. The eggs had fallen to the porch floor, where as you might assume, they had broken and the occupants had died.

I can't stress this enough. THEY WERE ALREADY DEAD.

At any rate, I couldn't see them, and (I can't do anything to make this sound better) I stepped on one. And then, of course, I looked down to see what strange object I had squished with my flip flop.


My first instinct was to run for the car and sob for about 25 minutes, but as I'd already rung the doorbell, I had to remain calm and deliver the flowers. After they were safely inside and the door had shut, I (already starting to cry) examined the other fallen ones to determine that they were, in fact, already deceased and my careless stepping hadn't caused additional suffering and pain.

Despite that, I still went back to my car and cried about the DBB as I drove to the post office. I also nearly threw up about 8 times that day thinking about it and, frankly, have been choking it back as I write about it.

(I also can't stress THIS enough. If the person whose house I visited reads this, please know I absolutely, positively, in NO WAY hold any grudge against you for this unfortunate incident!!)

I got my taxes safely sent (hopefully the clerks assumed my teary face was the result of having to write those checks!) and headed out to do some other errands.

One of those included stopping at Lowe's for supplies for a weekend workshop in our neighborhood, involving- of all things- painting birdhouses and birdfeeders. In an attempt at karmic retribution, I purchased THE NICEST multiple-perch, 2' high cedar birdfeeder I could find to paint and hang in the yard. And then I spent bits and pieces of four days painting it green and orange with flower accents and pink polka dots. It made its debut this morning. They like it.

I also spent most of the day tearing up with every step I took, because (unbeknownst to me) I had actually stepped in a large wad of gum somewhere shortly after the birdie incident. Therefore every step I took I stuck to the floor a little bit. Therefore every step I took I assumed there was little bits of DBB gunk sticking to my shoe in a mad, "OUT, DAMNNED SPOT!"-esque mindset. Therefore I was in tears or in gag-mode most of the day and actually considered throwing the shoes away.

That would be when I discovered the gum.

In a really sick sort of way, that's actually kind of funny when you think about it.

But the feeder looks really nice. If you want to learn more about how easy it was to make (I can't resist!) check out!

(My house is not for sale, my neighbor's is. Photo angles rock.)

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