It's a bird, It's a plane, It's a blog... nope it was a bird.

So, the lack of our blogging is such that we’ve probably completely lost readership. Sad? Yes. Mostly because, our lives are still pretty hilarious and worth documenting. We keep talking about potential blog topics, but because of this Cannon Center trip, or that new episode of Hannah Montana, they’ve never become reality. So what is the inspiration for today’s post after such a long lemmon peel drought? Well, I became the sad, innocent, and completely unsuspecting target of some airborne creature’s waste yesterday. In other words, I was pooped on by a bird, or some kind of UFP: unidentified flying pooper. Or perhaps UFC sounds better: unidentified flying crapper. I don’t know, you decide. The point is, I haven’t been pooped on since 7th grade. For all you who were fortunate enough to attend, or have seen Willis Jepson Middle School, (ah, such a gem. Nay! A diamond in the rough), you know about the unusually large population of seagulls who stalk the school waiting to crap on pubescent, self-conscious, pre-teens, and/or eat the left over lunches that litter the quad every day. It is in this setting that 12-year-old Cecily is enjoying her lunch, proudly wearing her Twisters soccer team sweatshirt, in preparation for Jepson’s team try-outs set to begin right after school that day. Somehow that poor seagull, sick with half-eaten chick fil a’s and pizza, managed to poop both on the front and back of that sweatshirt. Talk about a good omen for the beginning of try-outs. The rest of the day was spent sweatshirt-less, and my locker quickly adopted the seagull poop as its new aroma of choice. The real hero of the story however is mom, who had to wash the sweatshirt when I got home. And she had to comfort me when I was cut from the team a few days later. But yesterday’s encounter with crap was softened by the fact that my WHITE winter coat, is surprisingly easily cleaned. Seriously though, do those birds aim? What cruel fate attracts disaster to white clothing and recently washed cars? Aren’t birds migrating right now? I ran in 15 degree weather this morning, shouldn’t I be migrating right now? I suppose it isn’t always the bird’s direct doing. Let’s not forget mom’s legendary poo-flicking accident which resulted in some absorbed reader’s yogurt getting a little something extra (if you know what I mean). All in all, I decided it was a sign: It’s time to blog. So welcome back lemmon peelers. Welcome back.