I heard some Hellacious (Yes, that’s a word. At least in Maine.) chattering the other afternoon.
Looked out back…
And saw momma red squirrel perched on the plant hanger.
She was flicking her tail and screeching like a Hollywood starlet who ran out of Botox.
She screeched so hard a seed fell out of her mouth.
It only took me a minute to figure out why.
The other visitor.
No worries readers, momma escaped unharmed.
They’re everywhere.
Call me crazy, but I doubt this chicka is beating the men off with a stick.
Do I need to feel like Judy Jetson when I dispose of that slightly blue, mold covered cucumber that got pushed to the back of the crisper drawer?
No.
I do not.
Again with the space age crap. If I don’t know what year it is when I wake up?
I need to stop drinking, not buy a new clock.
Oh, yeah. These are sexy.
Perhaps she can double date with that hot Trekkie at the top.
Zero gravity?
I’m pretty sure if I ever find myself there, writing a grocery list or a thank you note won’t be my top priority.
And while I don’t need a dehydration light to flash in my water bottle…. this product might have adult beverage applications.
“Drink! You’re starting to sober up!”
Okay.
I’d buy that.
Do you see him?
There, on the end of the stone wall.
It’s a little baby chucker.
And I am totally in love with these guys.
They’ve started to use the wall as their own personal jungle gym….
And scamper around like little Tasmanian devils.
It’s entertaining as hell.
Our last day of the long Memorial Day weekend meant a morning of yard work.
Tag team mowing with the husband on his new toy and me slogging along with the old push mower.
It was a gorgeous day.
The pear tree was blooming.
The mallows I’d planted were thriving.
And everything had finally turned green.
Except the baby barn which I decided to start painting that afternoon.
Let me preface this by saying I used to love to paint.
I used to.
Until I had to use an artist’s tiny brush around all the nooks, corners, flashing and crooked angles on that beast.
Did I wear some paint, get covered in dirt, rip my pants, tumble off a ladder and work until almost 8:00 at night?
Yes I did.
But paint was applied.
And covered a multitude of sins.
Three sides done, one to go!
Memorial Day weekend Sunday found us back at the baby barn attempting to build it’s doors.
And as with every other part of that little building from Hell, it did not go smoothly.
I should probably point out that the husband and I do not always work well together. I’m a planner, a lister, an organizer who has all my tools and materials ready before I begin a job.
Husband is a spur of the moment, work on the fly and make do with what’s laying around type of guy.
He wants to get it done, I want it to look good. So I felt the need to sketch out the door design. Very technically as you can see…
Should the cross pieces resemble a Christmas tree, a diamond or the German SS insignia?
Decisions had to be made.
So a double Z was chosen.
Did the doors fit perfectly?
Of course not.
But after I slapped on just enough paint to install the hardware…
We discovered just how badly they didn’t fit.
Which was when the husband really got aggravated…. and I did what any sane wife would do.
I grabbed cocktail in a can…
And went to sit on the big barn porch.
Close enough that I could hear him hollering for me….
But far enough away to be out of frustration range.
And look who joined me.
Clearly there were no hard feelings from the traumatic baby ousting the day before.
Of course by the time I finished my cocktail and things had quieted down enough at the baby barn for me to return….
I realized that he’d put my door handles too closely together.
Did I tell him?
I did not.
My slightly twisted, but delightfully so, friend Masercot has just nominated me for this:
For which I will be sticking pins in a doll of his likeness and waiting for parts of him to drop off eternally grateful.
You know the drill, I have to answer questions.
Thankfully… because he’s twisted, this won’t be the hardship it normally is.
Let’s begin.
If you could choose any historical figure to hold your hair out of the toilet while you drunkenly vomit at a party, who would it be and why?
I’m going to have to go with Lord Byron. The man drank his liquor out of a cup made from a human skull. You have to admire that kind of commitment.
If you HAD to own a pet and it couldn’t be a dog or a cat, to what country would you flee to escape such a fascist regime. Remember that “Canada” is not an acceptable answer.
Australia…. where my dream pet wombats roam free.
What is your favorite, currently active, credit card number?
Nice try. But you know my only form of currency is tequila. If I can’t buy it with a perfectly mixed margarita? I don’t need it.
You’ve been told you will be allowed to join Trump’s Space Force if you sleep with a Marx Brother and Zeppo is not available. Which do you sleep with and why?
Can’t we just jettison Trump into space and call it good?
If you had to recommend an illegal drug to the youth of America, which drug would it be and how?
Blogging. It’s horribly addicting…. but so satisfying.
Do you think pound cake is overrated?
Only if it weighs 14 ounces.
Do you like Aquaman’s new look or do you prefer the blonde hair and tights?
I actually sat through the entire new Aquaman movie. Sober. Need I say more?
In keeping with tradition (and not because I want to force my friends to share the misery that are these never ending awards) I shall post the rules.
Display the award logo
Thank the blogger who nominated you and post a link to their blog
Answer the questions of the one who nominated you
Nominate some bloggers
Ask them seven questions
I will now gleefully nominate:
James because I had to sit through an entire months worth of Star Wars posts and he owes me.
liveandletthai since he’s always whining not enough people read his blog and just discovered he can make alcohol from dried hibiscus blossoms. You never know when that will come in handy.
clevergirlwrites she’s clever, and a girl. We need to stick together.
Boo because we’ve been blog friends a long time and I like to harass her long distance.
swingedcat he makes me laugh and posts bison photos. Friends like that are harder to find than you think.
My questions:
Would any of you be willing to let a slightly pissed off red squirrel and her children rent a room? The sooner the better, I’m getting hateful looks.
If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner/significant other/blow up girlfriend what would it be, and why?
Can you talk me into eating kale in 50 words or less? I know you can’t, but it will be fun to see you try.
You win an all expense paid trip for two to Antarctica, do you bring a Kardashian or Caitlyn Jenner?
By some strange twist of fate, you’re elected President of the United States in 2020. What’s your first executive order?
And finally, if you’ve made it this far…. why do bloggers feel compelled to keep this award thing going when none of us really like them?
Wait…. what!
You mean I didn’t have to?
Sure, now you tell me.
At least that’s what it looked like in the field across the street.
(Pardon the picture quality, it was far away and my zoom was maxxed out.)
I thought it was a dog…..
But it wasn’t a dog.
It was the often heard, but seldom seen coyote.
And while I recognize his necessary part in the eco system…..
I admit I was a little nervous seeing him cross the street….
And head down into the woods where our deer, fox, raccoons, skunks and woodchucks live.
But what made me even more nervous?
Was realizing there were actually two of them.
Oh, you thought the squirrel eviction was the end?
No, that was merely a side story.
The nightmare was the hole.
And the decades worth of squirrel nests concealed there in.
Appropriately masked, the husband approached.
Pulled a panel and…
How’s that for an action shot?
Man, you would not believe how much stuff he pulled out of there.
It was, in a word…. disgusting.
And landed everywhere.
If that isn’t enough to make the husband pay attention when I wave the honey do list in the future?
Nothing ever will be.
So now we had an empty hole.
A big empty hole with a badly installed spotlight fixture.
And a momma squirrel… who even though she found and moved her babies… still wanted back in.
So as the husband worked, with an audience, and stomped my geraniums to such a pulp I had to temporarily relocate them…
Momma squirrel was watching.
Many frustrating hours later, just as I was willing to admit defeat and use this-
It was done.
Hole plugged.
And momma red thwarted. We think.
I mean really.
It physically hurt.
But I was with the husband and he looked at me like I was a lunatic when I told him I needed to try on a pair.
Damn.
I could totally have rocked these during mud season.
Mad momma squirrel’s rampage continued for almost an hour.
Poor little thing, I did feel badly for her.
She was looking everywhere for her babies.
And then..
There they were.
Calling frantically for her.
So she came and got them, one by one.
Right past us, no fear at all.
I don’t know where she took them, but I hope it’s far away.
I love all our visiting critters.
But not when they want to actually take up residence in our house.
River's world..... 