Well, not exactly, but it begged for the title. Yesterday B told me he saw a giant bird outside our door. B is a talkaholic and I was busy so I did my typical, "Mm-hm." Today A climbed a tree and found this "giant bird" sitting in the neighbor’s yard.
The neighbor wanted to take it to animal rescue and was told to catch it with a blanket or jacket. Dh’s very heavy blanket concerned the neighbor and I, despite his insistence. Dh said that a lighter blanket would float and would just scare the bird off. I hate when he’s right. The bird flew to a tree where we let him be.
I also hate when I am trying to FLY and I feel grounded. Some basement flooding and more than one I’m-Not-Completely-Trained-Yet accidents coupled with the usual super destructive kid stuff have me a little discouraged. I long for clean and order, but I won’t get it until the house is depressingly empty. I guess like this hawk, I could relax on the ground for a while. FLYing will come!