Such a Dilemma

Torrey pointed out to me today that it has been more than a month since I last posted.

Which is lame.

But in my defense, I unfailingly find myself in the same predicament every time. Everyone knows that I don't often take the time to complete one task before I start another - I'm a multi-tasker like that. So I have all of these drafts of posts that I started with tentative titles like "But Why a Ukelele?" and "Buddha Must Hate Me" that I NEVER FINISH. By the time I re-visit, I've forgotten where I was going with the story, why it was interesting, what I was talking about, etc. I've decided that maybe I will start mixing and matching these unfinished stories because that will make about as much sense as if I had finished in the first. So let it be written. So let it be done.

A Good Story: That Damn Duck

Once when I was a child my mom and aunt (to the best of my recollection, I was a small child after all) took me on a 'fieldtrip' to Wheeler Farm. When you've spent your growing years in a super-suburban city where it is a rarity to see cattle, sheep, horses and the like it is exciting and somehow enticing to spend time not only near but in a chicken coop. Also to touch a cow on the nose through a fence and practically declare yourself a cowgirl at the experience.

But I digress.

The fact of the matter is that I was spending some quality "down-home country" time and was wandering and in particular, following a goose that stood as tall as my shoulder at the time. Unlike Sara I don't have a particular fear or dislike for birds and actually find them interesting, a truth that would later surface in preschool when I would be scolded for chasing/harassing a duck. Just because I could. Somehow as I was wondering a field or meadow or something I came in contact with a very large goose (maybe it was tiny, I was only a child!) that instead of getting out of my way decided that it would be a jerk and bite me instead. Only it wasn't a normal animal-type bite where the thing takes a quick nip and then back away, it was bite to my earlobe that just never ended; the dumb thing took grasp and wouldn't let go. Imagine me as a 2.5 foot tall kid, hunched over like Estelle from the Golden Girls, and weighed down by a possessed goose hanging on for dear life to my head. And let that be the image that comes to your mind as you stand to give a talk in sacrament meeting, because that's what happens to me every time.