Have you ever gone your entire life "knowing" a song, fake "hmmm, hmmm, baby" singing through the lyrics but belting out the chorus along to the bits you know, when out of the blue you suddenly realize what the song is about...and you're HORRIFIED.

Yep, well let me just say what the HELL is up with the Pina Colada song?! Hmmm, I think I'll write a big hit about two morons blatantly caught soliciting boozed up public monkey sex from someone who is NOT their current partner...and they're edified by the experience, joining in a merry little chuckle together.

So now I know. It's not a jaunty bopping your hands on the steering wheel fun little ditty, it's a "hey it's all right if your partner is a sand in the hoo-ha, froo-froo drink drinkin' whore!" song.

Note carefully that a man sings this, otherwise it would not have been titled "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" but "Lawsuit (Little Umbrella to the Scrotum Song)"

Every Tuesday and Thursday I have to challenge myself to tackle the hill. You see, I could wait 20 minutes for the little bus that comes around to pick up us sad commuters at school, or I could take 5-10 minutes to walk to my destination. As you can imagine, the problem here is that said location lies at the top of a big mo-fo hill. It's like the K2 of sciatic twinges.

Usually every class day, you can find me standing at the bus stop trying to pretend I don't see it.

I don't seee you, lalalalala, where's the buuus, tralalala, wheels on the bus go up and down, up and dowwwwn...

I have come up with some amazing reasons for not doing the walk: I'm wearing flip flops today and they offer no arch support, it's dewy outside and we all know I can slip on air, I'm cramping too much (no really, it worked in PE).

This is the one and only time that my psychotic lack of patience actually does me any good, and of course that damn bus is almost always late.

A few weeks ago I could be found at 7 am, trudging up the hill. I was trying to look jaunty and nonchalant, very aware that there's a high whine emitting from my flared nostrils...hoping it's not just the sound of a heart valve under pressure. You know that moment, where you really just want to stop at the top of a flight of stairs, or a haul through an airport terminal, and gasp desperately, but you're just way too cool to give it away? You'd think it would occur to one that desperately sucking in air is far less embarrasing then possibly passing out with your skirt bunched up around your waist.

Now I am happily married, but I'm not blind. I was VERY aware that quickly gaining on me was a very tall, very young and adorable male thing. No whistling coming from HIS nose, no sir! I however, am starting to do a sort of listing walk...pinballing from the curb on my right to the fence on my left. Now, I can't just stop because that would imply to Dishy that I HAD to stop, and I have a real dread that he'd stop and say, "ma'am, are you okay?" True mastermind that I am, I stop, but PRETEND that I see something of great interest in the trees...something of such great interest that I am compelled to cease my mighty ascent of Mt. Everest. I stare fixedly into the trees, head tilted a la cocker spaniel. Fool boy passes me and actually cranes around to see what is of such interest to me.

Then I realize that in my attempt to pretend to be looking at something, that I actually AM looking at something. Right in front of me is a gorgeous Cardinal. Bright red beauty sitting on a withered winter tree, it was calling back and forth to a friend or mate in another tree. And I was so consumed with not embarrasing myself in front of 19-something that I absolutely almost missed it.

It brought to mind a sweet post my friend put on her blog about finding a baby hummingbird outside of work. Her's was far more honorable, mine merely a reminder of what an idiot I can be. It's nice when nature just thwacks you on the head and says "PAY ATTENTION".