D is for duck. Also for dumb.

Yesterday was my last fully monster kid-free day.

Oh, such plans I had.

But instead of fulfilling grand plans, I saved this duckling from almost certain annihilation.

What I really meant to do was go pick out my 15 bucks worth of free stuff at the scrapbook store. It (the duckling, not the free stuff) was running next to the median when I pulled up to the light in front of the store. By the time I had parked, the dumb thing was trying to cross the road. After 3 tries and more than a few smoking tires later, it made it to my side of the road and immediately tried to go back into traffic. Yeah. Where the big tires go squish. What's a girl to do? Well, if you're an idiotic girl like me, you chase it up under the overpass and catch it. So, there I am, standing next to the car with a baby duck clenched in my fat fist. I had already walked around looking for it's Mom, called the hubs hoping for sage advice and stood next to the road looking helpless so that someone would come over and say, "here ma'am let me take care of that for you. I can tell you have some paper shopping to do." The next step seemed to be to drive home, one handed, and decide where to go from there. So that's what I did. I dumped ducky in an empty trash can and called everybody I could think of that should know what to do with a duckling. Giving it to my sister's creepy neighbor and trying to keep it alive for a few more weeks until it can fend for itself in the duck pond over yonder were the 2 best options. Grrrrr. Options my ass.

But, then the thought-the wonderful all knowing Internet will save me! Turns out it's illegal to keep Mallards (I was pretty sure this one was a Mallard), another mommy duck would just kill it and; surprisingly enough, it's also frowned upon to hand over fuzzy baby ducks to creepy neighbors that have ruined more than one kid and don't need a chance at another one. What you are supposed to do is hand it over to a wildlife rehabilitation specialist. After a few phone calls and a looong car ride that took me north of Bountiful, that's exactly what I did. Yes, I said north of Bountiful.

Did I mention I'm an idiot? 

Yesterday was kind of like when you get in one checkout line in the grocery store and you stand there until it stops moving and you think, "I could go over there or there!" but you know that as soon as you move, THAT line will stop moving so you just stick with the line you're in until every body in those other lines is gone and you realize you really should have just moved to a different line. I figured it was stupid to just let the duckling die after I had gone to such pains to save it and I may as well finish it up. Of course, I thought this before I got lost trying to find the damned place and WAY before the duck got loose in the car and I was parked on a freeway off-ramp in North Salt Lake trying to pull it out of the vent in which it was trying to crawl. By the time I dumped dummy off, I had just enough time to race (and by race I mean carefully, obeying the speed limit and all traffic laws) back home, finally eat breakfast (breakfast!) and unlock the door for Thomas before I left to get Turner from school. I'm pretty sure next time I'm just going to close my eyes and let natural selection do it's dirty work. I'm also pretty sure this fulfills my Good Samaritan (also my what the hell were you thinking?) quota for the month.

 So, if you need a favor, hit me up in July.