Describe your most memorable vacation.
A similar question was previously asked, as is the way here at WordPress.
Rather than answer this again, I’ll link below to my poem about the road trip leading to my most memorable vacation – The Cincinnati Open, 2006.
The roadtrip to my favorite vacation
It all started yesterday morning when I was out watering the plants in the front yard. I water the plants every morning because it’s summer and it gets hot. If I don’t water, the hydrangea looks like it’s on its last legs by noon. To be honest, it looks like that throughout the day, and then I have to water it again, but that’s a different story.
I was watering the plants per usual when I saw a tiny bird hopping in the grass toward the sidewalk and ultimately toward the road. As soon as I realized what was happening, I grabbed some vinyl gloves and hastily put them on as I hoped to reach the bird before she made it into the road. She did get to the road, but I got to her in time and scooped her up. Not sure what to do, I placed the bird – which I believed to be either an American Robin or a Bluejay – under my Eastern Redbud (ERJ, for those who have been here a while and are familiar with him).
I went out to check on the bird midday and couldn’t find her anywhere. It was quite hot and I did a thorough sweep of the front and backyard. Twice. I couldn’t find her. An adult robin flew to the space under the tree where I had put the baby and chirped for about five minutes. I realized this was the baby’s mother, and she could not locate her baby. I tried once again to find the baby bird with no luck.
A few hours passed and I sat down to eat my dinner. I took a couple bites, looked out the window, and saw the baby hopping around near ERJ. I immediately swung into action, not even wiping my mouth nor realizing there was food in my hair. I put on some gloves, and flew out the door (no pun intended). I scooped up Little Bit (her new name) and my first thought was the mother left the baby after not being able to locate her earlier in the day. My second thought was not really a thought, but a perception. I formed a cup with both of my hands around this tiny little breathing warm baby with a tiny little rapid heartbeat and watched her fall asleep. It was in that moment I fell in love with Little Bit and was determined to save her.
I was still in my bathrobe and slippers with food in my hair and with a face probably covered in food, when I walked over to a neighbor’s house and asked them to come look in the tree for a nest in another neighbor’s yard. I’m sure these guys thought I was a crazy bird lady and they’re not wrong, but they humored me. After about 10 minutes, they did find the remnants of a nest, but it was not inhabitable. By this time, my neighbor who lived in the house with the land that held the tree with the uninhabitable nest, came out and inquired about this activity. Her cat, who does sneak out and knows how to open doors, was very interested in the bird. (Don’t worry, she wasn’t able to get out.)
The men took their leave, unable to assist, though they did try. I still held Little Bit in both of my hands and she remained asleep. She liked when I pet her head. By this time, the mother robin realized I had the baby and was nearby chirping to it. Unfortunately, the baby was asleep. I wasn’t sure what would happen if if I removed one of my hands, but decided I needed to because I needed to consult Google ASAP. The bird sanctuary was closed and I had no other resources available to me to be able to figure out what to do with this baby bird.
I walked around towards the backyard, hoping the mother would follow. She did, but I still didn’t know what to do. I took my hand away and was able to get into my phone. I Googled, “What do I do with a baby bird?” I found that if the bird can hop, it is a fledgling and it has been nudged out of the nest intentionally. In the fledgling stage, the mother puts the bird in a spot and stays nearby while it learns how to be a big grown-up bird. The problem with Little Bit was she didn’t stay where she was put. And she didn’t answer her mother when her mother called for her midday.
Armed with this information – thanks Google – I proceeded back to the front yard. I kneeled in the grass near ERJ and put my hand against the ground. I opened it up and waited for Little Bit to step out into the grass. The mother had returned and was waiting at the very top of the Weeping Cherry Tree. Little Bit jumped out of my hand and immediately proceeded to poop in the grass. Her mother was chirping to her, and had been for several minutes. Little Bit began chirping back and followed the sound of her mother. I removed my gloves and watched for a few more seconds until the baby bird got under the canopy of the tree and the mother came down to greet her. I went inside and thought how lovely it was to interact with a small creature so helpless and be able to offer her help by keeping her out of the road. I had been terribly depressed yesterday, and the distraction and the joy that bird gave me exponentially lifted my spirits.
I went out later to check on mother and baby, but couldn’t find either one of them. Google told me that the mother will find shelter and stay close by at night until the baby is ready to be on her own. So I no longer was worried about predators eating the baby at night. I assumed she would make it because I didn’t want to think about the alternative. I still don’t. 
I found out later I didn’t need to wear gloves when touching the baby, that it was not true that a bird will abandon a baby if it smells a human scent on the baby. They will not reject it. In my case, though, I am terribly allergic to birds and would have had to wear gloves anyway. I was experiencing a little bit of a wheeze while holding her, but I wasn’t about to let her go until I knew she would be OK.
This morning, I went out to water my plants – the hydrangea was already acting dramatic with limp leaves and sagging blooms and it wasn’t even 10 AM. It’s always high drama with the beautiful hydrangea. It’s the diva of the yard. I didn’t see a baby or a mother. At least not until I got the peanuts out and started dispersing them for the Morning Feeding. There is a robin who lives in the tree next door (the location of the uninhabitable nest), who comes every morning for a lovely peanut breakfast. Robins don’t normally eat peanuts, but this one enjoys them. She has been coming for months. I know it’s Little Bit’s mom.
Google told me that baby robins stay in the same general area as their nest once they’ve grown into adulthood. In fact, when their parents die, they will often take over the same nesting area. It also told me that robins are among the birds that recognize human faces.
I know when I said goodbye to Little Bit like an anxious auntie, that it wasn’t goodbye, it was see you later.
I know you’ll like the peanuts just as much as your mom. See you soon!
P.S. if you think I didn’t get cursed out in meow language by Susie when I came in the house at 7 PM you are wrong. Susie was extremely upset that I was outside playing with a baby bird and she was stuck in the house. Susie was born in this house and has never been outside, so I don’t know what her beef was, but she definitely was angry. I have never seen her so upset. I wanted to talk to her about it and I did ask, but she refused.
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On what subject(s) are you an authority?
I’ll have a proper post on this later, but the sneak pic is this:
What’s your definition of romantic?
How do you express your gratitude?
It’s really simple. This is what I do: I wake up, open my eyes and say, “I’m grateful for everything I have been given.”
At some point during the day – especially if it’s summer – I will venture outside and say it again. Then I will find happiness in the simple things, which aren’t that simple when you think about it.
Two days ago, I found myself kneeling in the dirt with my face in a coreopsis, watching and listening as a honeybee buzzed around my head to get the sweet nectar from the flowers. The bee had no pollen on her legs, so I knew she wasn’t collecting pollen, she was having a sweet drink. No, I am not scared of bees. Yes, I have been stung many times, but each of those times have been accidental, and not the fault of the bee. Last summer, I stepped on a bee and yes, the pain of the sting was excruciating, but all I could think of was that I carelessly and foolishly killed a honey bee. We need every honeybee we can get, and if I had looked down, I would’ve seen that I shouldn’t have put my foot there. I now make it a point to look down before I put my foot down, and try to walk away from the clover, not through it. I also now always wear shoes when walking through the grass, which I’d rather not do, as feeling the grass on my feet in the summer is one of the best sensations of the season. But, I don’t want to kill bees with my feet.
The point about the bees, other than we desperately need honeybees, so please don’t kill them – if they die, we die – is this: I am grateful for the bees. They are essential to our survival, and they are fascinating. They are not buzzing around outside trying to get us. As I’ve written before, most of the flying creatures I chase are actively trying to run away from me and my phone’s camera.
Yesterday, a worker bee tolerated my presence and allowed me to capture her on video.
After this encounter, I said hi to my wasp friends. More on that later. And no, nobody stung me.
What are you most worried about for the future?
Worrying is pointless, yet it is difficult to stop doing it.
Worrying about the future will cause anxiety.
Thinking too much about the past will cause depression.
Does worrying about anything solve anything? Does trying to control the outcome of something that hasn’t happened yet really work?
Is worrying about something you cannot control at all a good way to spend your time?
No.
If you can make small steps today so that tomorrow (which is the future) looks a little less scary and a little more like you hoped it would, then do that today.
Don’t overthink it, don’t overplay it, and please don’t waste today thinking about tomorrow. What if you don’t get a tomorrow? 
Yesterday morning, a refined lady arrived to the establishment, politely seeking directions to the complimentary breakfast area.
Have you ever had surgery? What for?
Isn’t there a better way to word these ridiculous prompts?
I’ll play along today, WordPress.
Yes, I had a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy at the age of four. Repeated ear infections were causing me to lose my hearing, so the adenoids – along with the tonsils as a bonus – had to go.
I woke up during the surgery, and a nice nurse told me to go back to sleep. Many years later, I would end up working in that same hospital. But I could never find my tonsils or my adenoids. They must’ve hidden them well. 
My hearing came back, and all was functioning well until recently when the ear infections returned, and now I am almost completely deaf in my left ear. No one really knows why, except repeated infections are known to do that. Does that answer your question, WordPress? Is this prompt data mining for the selling of organs on the black market?
What are your daily habits?
I thought we already went over this WordPress. Let’s review, once again.
Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?
I didn’t want to answer this prompt by saying, “I recycle, reuse and repurpose,” not because I don’t do those things (I do), but because I felt like it would be a common answer. After a bit of deliberation, I found my prompt answer in an unusual spot. It seems the mourning doves felt very comfortable and a bit frisky in the front flower bed this morning.
That got me thinking. I have noticed there are teenaged squirrels in the backyard and teenaged starlings at the birdbath.
Thus, my contribution to sustainability is providing a natural reproductive habitat for birds, rodents, insects, and possibly Toady McToaderson – if he can find his mate one of these nights. Poor Toady.
“It's Amy,” I said. 