Moving day

An aunt is moving from one rent house to another. Today a sizeable part of the family got together and spent a few hours helping her move. Since my father recently had shoulder surgery and most of the others that showed up are old enough (no offense) to have various physical ailments that prevent heavy lifting, my little brother and I had to do most of the laborous stuff. It was great weather for it at least. After that rainy, dreary Saturday, a sunny and warm (lower 60s) Sunday was very appreciated.

But fear not fans of winter (myslef NOT included)... today was (unfortunately) not the start of a warming trend. By all professional forcasting accounts, I expect my morning to journey to be snowy and full of foul language.


We'll have to do this again next weekend. Move her I mean. Although more good weather would be welcome. Her move out date from the other place is 1 Feb, we were just getting a jump start with the good weather. We left bare essentials at the old place and will have to finish up later.

The fact that it's even this close to February is in some regards disheartening. Though in other regards it is uplifting. For example, spring training will be in sight soon. Once spring training is here, only the best parts of the year can follow.



Sidebar: Broken Necked Birdie
At my aunt's rent house, there is a carport that connects to the porch, and a wooden lattice on each side of the carport (a common site in these parts). The lattice starts at the lower end of the carport, but doesn't go all the way up to the house. There is a doorway sized opening in the lattice on each side of the carport, creating a tunnel of sorts that the birds seem to like to zip through. My aunt tells me they do it all the time, as though barnstorming her carless-carport (she doesn't drive).

Well, when we were moving today, I had just placed an item into my father's minivan, which was backed into the carport, when as I turned around to walk into the house via the front door, I heard a strange thump. I immediately noticed on the ground a strangely mis-shapen, very limp bird. It was then that I noticed we had the storm door propped open, which effectively blocks the little carport tunnel that the birds fly through. I concluded that the bird swooped down to zip through the tunnel, only to smack full-speed into the glass storm door and instantly break his neck.

This conclusion seemed verified as my step-grandfather put on a rubber glove and picked up the bird. When he held it upright to look at it, the head flopped over from one side to the other in a very creepy invertibrate way. Which is an odd thing for a vertibrate to do.

You don't want to know the bird's final fate. It would probably upset you. Just wanted to tell this strange story of timing. The door hadn't been propped open long, or for much longer after the incident. The bird would have lived were it a few moments earlier or later. In contrast, had I been moving more quickly and been a few steps further forward, I would have likely gotten a bird rammed into my ear, giving credence to those who feel I am bird-brained. It is undeterminable if the bird's neck would have still been broken had it flown into the side of my head, but those who feel my head is of adequate density tend to agree that the bird was a gonner all the same.