After days and days of hot and humid mid-90’s temperatures, we were suddenly blasted with a cold front this week. Like, a 40 degrees-ish cold front that sent me into the closet, scrambling to find the boys’ long pants and long sleeve shirts that I’d already packed away for next year. Oh, Austin weather patterns. You so crazy.
Anyway, because I’m a Room Temperature Woman—I complain if it’s either above or below 73 degrees—I was feeling really uncomfortable and decided to light a fire in the fireplace. Cozy, right? At least it was until my husband zoomed into the living room and yelled, “Oh, my God! What about the birds?!”And that’s when I remembered the birds that live on the top of our chimney. The birds that were probably feeling a little hot under the feathers right about then. The birds that were desperately chirping, “Stop, Drop and Roll, Muthafokkas!”
Now, in my defense, we only think the birds live on top of our chimney. I mean, I haven’t actually scaled the roof to get confirmation. But for months now, we’ve heard their soft coo-coos coming out of our fireplace and into our living room. (Yes, “coo-coos” because the birds I may have possibly endangered are doves. AKA “the birds of peace.” AKA “Wendi’s going to hell and being driven there by a pissed off PETA representative.”)
I felt horrible as soon as I realized what I’d done and quickly tried to figure out what to do next. Should I douse the fire? Call a vet? Spray down our roof with a hose? Find a hidey-hole? My thoughts ran rampant until I took a deep breath and surmised that the birds probably flew away before any harm came to them. Because that’s what birds do, isn’t it? They fly. Fly, fly, fly away! Meaning, no harm, no foul for my thoughtless action. No, everything was still OK and I wasn’t suddenly going to be joining Sarah Palin on helicopter hunting trips.
So then, once I rationalized that the birds were perfectly safe and had probably already moved on to a better roosting spot, I sighed with relief, sat back down in front of the roaring fire and relaxed. That is, I did until two minutes later when Sam ran downstairs, sniffed the air and asked, “Hey, mommy—who’s cooking chicken?”
Be gentle with me, PETA.
(Note: I’m happy to report that the birds are still up on our chimney and I hear “Coo-Coo” reverberating through my house all day long.) (Which I think we all know is very, very appropriate.)
Thank you to everyone for your support of Listen to Your Mother Austin! The show was absolutely amazing. We had a full house, received a standing ovation and I didn’t even come close to fainting on stage. The cast was just spectacular. A video of the show will be online very soon, for those of you interested in seeing it.
And sadly, I didn’t actually get to try out for The Amazing Race. Not only did I not have a partner, but I would have had to wait in line for over two hours in 80 degree humidity with only a lousy Subway sandwich to eat. And something tells me that if I find those conditions inhumane, maybe I wasn’t the best candidate for the show. (But there’s always next year, so send me your partner applications ASAP!)