I called my grandparents just a bit ago to ask if it would be alright by them if we have pizza for lunch at the kids' birthday party in a few weeks. There will be 15-20 people and I'm sure not trying to cook for that many in my teeny kitchen, even if I was an excellent chef, which I'm not anyway.
Almost as soon as I'd said hello to my grandmother, she launched into a discussion about how many birds we've had this spring/early summer. There are more than normal, certainly, but she went on and on about how pretty they are and how they'll land on the windowsill and just stay there, etc.
My grandma isn't one for random lengthy discussions, so I waited to discover what all these birds had to do with anything.
Apparently, she'd been out pulling weeds this morning, and while she was bent over, a bird decided that she would make a good landing spot.
"It just perched right back there you-know-where," she told me, almost indignantly. There was a hint of laughter in her voice too.
"On your butt, Grandma? Let me get this straight...a bird...landed on your butt?"
"Yes! I kind of turned a little and it was right there, minding its own business on my derriere!"
What do you say to that?
I wasn't sure whether to offer my condolences for her traumatic experience, to offer suggestions (which I didn't have) for keeping her butt bird-free in the future, or to just laugh my own ass off.
I went with the third option. :-D I almost forgot to ask about the pizza before I hung up!



