It's a peaceful morning. I'm grading my online classes' quizzes, and Jeremy's off to take a quick nap. The cat and both dogs are sleeping. The next thing I know, Jeremy's charging back into the kitchen.
"Where's a big piece of wood?" He asks, as he peers into the kitchen closets. I just stare at him.
"What are you doing? I thought you were taking a nap?"
"There's a huge critter above the bathroom!" He exclaims, as he continues his rampage through the kitchen. "Aha!" He deftly wields a four foot long piece of wood like a club and marches back to the bedroom.
Thud! Thud, thud! Bang, thud, whomp! So much for the peaceful morning. This continues for a good five minutes, then I watch as he scrambles up the stairs, and listen to about 10 minutes more thudding coming from the attic off the upstairs bathroom.
Storming down the stairs into the kitchen, I can't help but laugh at him. He's wearing jammy pants, a t-shirt, his hair is sprouting all over the place, there's a determined look on his face, and his still swinging the wood around like a club--a pajama vigilante.
"What! Why are you laughing at me?" I can't help myself and just keep laughing.
"You look hilarious (probably not the best thing to say to a "club" swinging husband). And the way you're charging after a little critter just adds to it."
"It's not little!" He exclaims in exaggerated outrage. "It's a huge squirrel!"
"Did you get it?" I asked.
Jeremy hesitates, looks a little sheepish, then says "No." I start laughing again. "It's not funny! The thing was huge! And it was clinging to the screen just tugging at it, trying to get out."
"So," I ask, really just wanting to torment him further, "you've armed yourself, barreled through the house, charged after a squirrel, yet the squirrel is still in the attic?"
"He was stuck back in the little corner of the attic! I would have had to scrunch myself up into a little ball to get back there!" He demonstrates the scrunching, but the way he moves his arms up to his chest sort of make him look like a squirrel. I start laughing again. "And what would you have done?" He asks me pointedly.
I know what I would have done. I would have listened to the critter, decided risking my own life (okay, so a squirrel, cat, raccoon--whatever it might have been--isn't really deadly, but. . .) was not worth it, then just listened to it scrambling through the attic. Even if I had gone into the attic, I would have just stared at it, backed out, and closed the door. At some point, it would have stopped making noises, so I could just pretend that it wasn't there. But, that wasn't the point, and I didn't bother telling Jeremy what my plan of action would have been. No sense giving him ammunition. That, and he pretty much knows what I would have done anyway.
"Besides, the thing was so loud! I'm laying there in bed, my head covered, and I can still hear it! I look over at Audrey and she's just laying there, sleeping, not even paying any attention. Some hunting dogs we have." I looked down at Audrey, who had vacated the bed as soon as Jeremy started thudding around. Apparently, Jeremy had disturbed her sleep, so she left the bedroom and was now sleeping next to my feet. We are so well protected--if a cat army decides to take over our house.
Jeremy's still grumbling because he's figured out how the squirrel got into the house. His fault of course, because when he started tearing out the plumbing to redo it, he left a huge vent open, big enough for the squirrel to get in.
By this point he's muttering something about a pellet gun, annoyed that we don't have one.
"We just have the little 22," I said to him, "but I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea."
"Yeah, that would be great, since it'd be aimed right at the courthouse. We need a pellet gun! Why don't we have one?" Jeremy's still grumbling about this as he heads back to bed for a second attempt at a nap. I have a feeling we're going to end up with a pellet gun before long. This made me giggle again, as I imagined Jeremy, decked out in safari clothes, stalking through the house with a pellet gun hunting squirrels. Then I groaned, imagining mounted squirrel heads flanking our hallway walls.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Nothing Runs into You Like a Deer
I love deer, and I hate deer. They're the tastiest things to eat, they're beautiful aniamls, but, I swear, they're the stupidest animals ever. A few weeks ago, I was on my way to work. I was running a little late because I had to have that last cup of coffee. I'd made it only about two miles out of town when I spotted deer bounding across the road ahead of me. I slowed down, watched, but didn't see anymore. Just as I started to speed up again, a deer sprinted out, from the opposite direction of the ones I had just seemed.
It almost felt like slow motion. I watched the deer sprint toward Jeremy's truck. All I could think was, "There's nothing I can do to avoid hitting this deer." For a brief moment, the deer changed directions and was just running along the side of the truck. It was almost surreal, and the deer was so beautiful. Then, in an instant, it decided it was kamikaze deer. BAM! It ran right into the driver's side door. The window glass shattered, sprinkling all over me and the driver's side.
My heart was racing as, somehow instinctively with no thoughts in my head, I slowed down and pulled over on the side of the road. I just sat there, shaking, unalbe to process anything. This fact was most obvious when, seconds later, a van pulled alongside me. The woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
This I could actually process. Other than some glass inside my shoes and my racing heart, no problems.
"I'm fine," I replied. "Just a little shaken up." That was definitely an understatement, since I was fairly certain there was no way I could get out of the truck and actually stand on my own. And that's pretty much where all logical thinking stopped.
The woman then asked, "Do you need any help? Do you need to borrow a phone?"
I "calmly" told her, "No, I'm fine. I just live a couple miles back, and my husband's at home. She nodded her head, and I watched the van ease down the road.
It was only then that it hit me. 1) I didn't have a cell phone, since mine had died after it got a little "bath." Therefore, I actually had no way to call Jeremy. On top of that, I knew I as at least 2 or 3 miles out of town. What was I planning to do? Walk back? I sat in the cab for a few minutes, contemplating my stupidity. Nothing else to do, I figured I might as well get out and check the damage.
Gingerly, trying to avoid all the tiny glass fragments, I opened the door and stepped out. Yep, the deer had run right into me. The driver's side door was completely smashed. In fact, to get back into the truck, I had to reach through the window and use the inside door handle, since the outside one was no longer functioning. There was also a much smaller dent on the front fender, and the hood was slighltly popped up. Survey complete, I climbed back into the truck and just sat tere, amongst the glass, not sure what the hell to do.
Fortunately, a truck with 2 guys pulled up behind me within minutes. This time, I took the prooffered cell phone and called Jeremy, making sure to emphasize (given his usual critiques of my driving) that it was the deer who had hit me. After calling Jeremy, I once again stepped out of the truck. Silently surveying the damage with the men.
"He really got you, didn't he," one of the men said.
"Yep. Straight into my door."
Okay, we were stating the obvious, but really, what more is there to say?
Determining everything was under control, the two men headed back to their truck and took off. It was at that point I saw the deer on the far shoulder of the road, trying to get up. I instantly felt horrible, hoping the animal would be okay.
Minutes later, Jeremy pulled up. Once again, I got out and stood looking at the damage. I noticed what looked like little fibers coming off the door handle and asked Jeremy what it was.
"That's deer fur," he replied.
"Lovely."
I looked back at the deer and was surprised to see it was gone. I felt slightly bad when the first thing out of my mouth was "Damn, the venison is gone." But by that time, I was "slightly" angry about the amount of damage to the truck.
Heading back into town, we flagged down a passing city cop, who sent us to the sheriff's office, who sent us back out to the truck to wait for a sheriff. About ten minutes later, the sheriff pulled up, and yes, again, we silently surveyed the damage. By this point, I was getting pretty sick of looking at a smashed door on a truck.
Obviously, there wasn't anything to say. So he told us we needed to call the insurance company, then head back to the sheriff's office and fill out a form for the insurance company.
Finished with the sheriff, I climbed back into the truck and, very, very slowly, followed Jeremy home. I was paranoid that another deer was going to jump out in front of me, positive they were plotting vehicular demise like the squirrels in the Geico commercial.
Immediately, I called into work and left a message that I wouldn't be in, giving all the details why. Calling the insurance company, we quickly discovered that, since the truck was older, we hadn't gotten collision insurance on it. So, absolutely no dedictible. I was no longer feeling guilty about the deer's condition, but rather fuming because the venison was gone. If only the deer would have flipped into the back of the truck! This thought only grew stronger when we discovered it would cost $1200 just to fix the door. After that revelation, I went to the freezer, pulled out a package of ground venison, and we had chili for supper.
Since we no longer needed to fill out the form at the sheriff's office, I had plently of time to make it to my last class, which started at 11. I rounded up all my stuff and headed out to my Isuzu, which I hadn't driven for weeks. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. Click, click, click, click it went. Disbelieving, I turned the key again. Click, click, click, click. Yep, dead battery.
Sighing, I grabbed all my stuff, headed into the house, and dropped it all in the hallway. I gave up on the whole, entire day and pulled up a game on my computer. The only thing that might have been more calming was if I had that Deer Hunter game.
It almost felt like slow motion. I watched the deer sprint toward Jeremy's truck. All I could think was, "There's nothing I can do to avoid hitting this deer." For a brief moment, the deer changed directions and was just running along the side of the truck. It was almost surreal, and the deer was so beautiful. Then, in an instant, it decided it was kamikaze deer. BAM! It ran right into the driver's side door. The window glass shattered, sprinkling all over me and the driver's side.
My heart was racing as, somehow instinctively with no thoughts in my head, I slowed down and pulled over on the side of the road. I just sat there, shaking, unalbe to process anything. This fact was most obvious when, seconds later, a van pulled alongside me. The woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
This I could actually process. Other than some glass inside my shoes and my racing heart, no problems.
"I'm fine," I replied. "Just a little shaken up." That was definitely an understatement, since I was fairly certain there was no way I could get out of the truck and actually stand on my own. And that's pretty much where all logical thinking stopped.
The woman then asked, "Do you need any help? Do you need to borrow a phone?"
I "calmly" told her, "No, I'm fine. I just live a couple miles back, and my husband's at home. She nodded her head, and I watched the van ease down the road.
It was only then that it hit me. 1) I didn't have a cell phone, since mine had died after it got a little "bath." Therefore, I actually had no way to call Jeremy. On top of that, I knew I as at least 2 or 3 miles out of town. What was I planning to do? Walk back? I sat in the cab for a few minutes, contemplating my stupidity. Nothing else to do, I figured I might as well get out and check the damage.
Gingerly, trying to avoid all the tiny glass fragments, I opened the door and stepped out. Yep, the deer had run right into me. The driver's side door was completely smashed. In fact, to get back into the truck, I had to reach through the window and use the inside door handle, since the outside one was no longer functioning. There was also a much smaller dent on the front fender, and the hood was slighltly popped up. Survey complete, I climbed back into the truck and just sat tere, amongst the glass, not sure what the hell to do.
Fortunately, a truck with 2 guys pulled up behind me within minutes. This time, I took the prooffered cell phone and called Jeremy, making sure to emphasize (given his usual critiques of my driving) that it was the deer who had hit me. After calling Jeremy, I once again stepped out of the truck. Silently surveying the damage with the men.
"He really got you, didn't he," one of the men said.
"Yep. Straight into my door."
Okay, we were stating the obvious, but really, what more is there to say?
Determining everything was under control, the two men headed back to their truck and took off. It was at that point I saw the deer on the far shoulder of the road, trying to get up. I instantly felt horrible, hoping the animal would be okay.
Minutes later, Jeremy pulled up. Once again, I got out and stood looking at the damage. I noticed what looked like little fibers coming off the door handle and asked Jeremy what it was.
"That's deer fur," he replied.
"Lovely."
I looked back at the deer and was surprised to see it was gone. I felt slightly bad when the first thing out of my mouth was "Damn, the venison is gone." But by that time, I was "slightly" angry about the amount of damage to the truck.
Heading back into town, we flagged down a passing city cop, who sent us to the sheriff's office, who sent us back out to the truck to wait for a sheriff. About ten minutes later, the sheriff pulled up, and yes, again, we silently surveyed the damage. By this point, I was getting pretty sick of looking at a smashed door on a truck.
Obviously, there wasn't anything to say. So he told us we needed to call the insurance company, then head back to the sheriff's office and fill out a form for the insurance company.
Finished with the sheriff, I climbed back into the truck and, very, very slowly, followed Jeremy home. I was paranoid that another deer was going to jump out in front of me, positive they were plotting vehicular demise like the squirrels in the Geico commercial.
Immediately, I called into work and left a message that I wouldn't be in, giving all the details why. Calling the insurance company, we quickly discovered that, since the truck was older, we hadn't gotten collision insurance on it. So, absolutely no dedictible. I was no longer feeling guilty about the deer's condition, but rather fuming because the venison was gone. If only the deer would have flipped into the back of the truck! This thought only grew stronger when we discovered it would cost $1200 just to fix the door. After that revelation, I went to the freezer, pulled out a package of ground venison, and we had chili for supper.
Since we no longer needed to fill out the form at the sheriff's office, I had plently of time to make it to my last class, which started at 11. I rounded up all my stuff and headed out to my Isuzu, which I hadn't driven for weeks. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. Click, click, click, click it went. Disbelieving, I turned the key again. Click, click, click, click. Yep, dead battery.
Sighing, I grabbed all my stuff, headed into the house, and dropped it all in the hallway. I gave up on the whole, entire day and pulled up a game on my computer. The only thing that might have been more calming was if I had that Deer Hunter game.
Love Letter to my Husband
Jeremy is huffy this morning. He says he's on strike; he's not going to pet any of the animals today. You see, after getting up, letting the dogs out, feeding and watering both the dogs and the cat, he thought they'd spend some quality time with him. Instead, when I woke up, they were all back in the bedroom with me, scattered across the bed. Apparently, after all their needs were met, Audrey immediately went back to the bedroom door and started whining to get in. Followed by Binny. Jeremy was just telling Jack how the "men" could spend some quality time together, when Jack got up and trotted to the bedroom door. That was the last straw for Jeremy, so now he's pouting a bit.
I figured he might need a little pick me up after his abandonment this morning, so I decided I'd put together a nice little love letter, well, my style of love letter, for him.
First, I thought I'd start with a list of things I probably should feel bad about, but really don't. I'll use I'm sorry to make it sound better.
1. I'm sorry I steal all the covers at night.
2. I'm sorry I instinctively make more room in the bed for the animals at night, leaving you a rather small sliver of bed.
3. I'm sorry I Leave bras dropped around the house wherever I happen to take them off at night.
4. I'm sorry that when I don't want to do something, I make comments like "Oh, I so don't feel like letting the dogs out," rather than just asking you to do it.
5. I'm sorry I don't wipe my feet off after I get out of the shower, making puddles all over the bathroom floor.
6. I'm sorry when I inentionally leave half a cup of coffee in the coffeemaker just so I don't have to make the next pot.
7. I'm sorry I don't like The Chronicles of Riddick or Tron and have made so many jokes about those movies.
8. I'm sorry when I forget to empty the cat's litterbox until an unpleasant aroma invades the kitchen.
9. I'm sorry I keep squashing the garbage down in the can and adding more until it's impossible to get the bag out. (I have tried to remedy this, sticking post it reminders on the can, but. . .)
10. I'm sorry I have an uncanny ability not to see dust. By the way, please don't shut off any of the ceiling fans.
11. I'm sorry when we go shopping and you continually lose me because everything distracts me.
12. I'm also sorry that I can't shop in an "organized" manner and meander, seemingly with no purpose, through the aisles.
13. I'm sorry I can't resist eating all of your leftover pizza.
14. I'm sorry you frequently end up with pink, lime green, and lavender socks and t-shirts. Who would've thought one colored towel could do that?
15. I'm sorry I often start a conversation out loud, continue it and change topics in my head, then, to your confusion, voice the new topic out loud. I know how I got there, shouldn't you?
I'm sure there are a ton more that I can add to this, and I'm positive Jeremy, once he reads this, will have a plethora to add as well. However, no it's time to move on to the list of things I love about my husband.
1. I love how excited he gets about the little things. But really, we don't need photos of every mouse we catch in the electric trap. They sort of all look the same . . . like dead mice.
2. I love how he says, "My god," shakes his head, and laughs every time I do or say something stupid. Like telling someone our house once had a two story outhouse. Oops!
3. I love how he always makes up silly little songs about everything. I'm not sure which is my favorite--the "Gotta Pee" song or the "Making a Fire" song.
4. I love how he feeds me things, like berries off a bush, and he always gets the tasty ones, while I get the ones that taste horrid.
5. I love the way he constantly critiques my driving skills (you back into your father-in-law's car once. . .), but always has me drive us everywhere.
6. I love how he buys me things then ends up using them himself. For instance, the Cheetos he bought for me on Thursday and ate on Friday.
7. I love the fact that he so often goes along with ideas I have, even if it means turning our house into the Griswolds' at Christmas time.
8. I love how he somtimes puts up such a valiant attempt to disuade me from my ideas. I still want to put up lights for every holiday (Valentine's, President's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter. . .) even if no one else does.
9. I love how his hair looks in the morning-that sort of sprouty all over with a slight mohawk look.
10. I love how he can look at something and visualize how it should/will look. I do the same thing and end up way off. Like the roughly 600 square foot flower bed in front of our old house that I thought I could fill with about 100 bulbs. He then added 3 crepe myrtle trees, a weeping cherry tree, 2 camillias, 5 shrubs, 5 hostas, a weigela shrub, and a whole row of daylillies.
11. I love how he lets me drag him to small town festivals whenever I want. But then again, who wouldn't leap at the chance to go to the Peanut Festival, the Wild Hog Festival, the Wild Chicken Festival, the Crawfish Festival. . .
12. I love how he always points out all the cows and goats ("Cows!" "Goats!") whenver we're driving somewhere.
13. I love how he ends up chasing Binny through the whole house, up and down the stairs, before she finally just stops. I especially love seeing her blurred, gray fur streak down the stairs with Jeremy following and grumbling after. All that just to get her in the bedroom at night.
14. I love how he will find little things he thinks I will like and picks them up for me. Everything from pretty wildflowers to jewelry.
15. I love the sound of his laugh, and I love that the stupid things I do and say make him laugh so much. I will never get enough of the twinkle his eyes get and the way his cheeks look when he's happy and laughing, even if it's at me.
I figured he might need a little pick me up after his abandonment this morning, so I decided I'd put together a nice little love letter, well, my style of love letter, for him.
First, I thought I'd start with a list of things I probably should feel bad about, but really don't. I'll use I'm sorry to make it sound better.
1. I'm sorry I steal all the covers at night.
2. I'm sorry I instinctively make more room in the bed for the animals at night, leaving you a rather small sliver of bed.
3. I'm sorry I Leave bras dropped around the house wherever I happen to take them off at night.
4. I'm sorry that when I don't want to do something, I make comments like "Oh, I so don't feel like letting the dogs out," rather than just asking you to do it.
5. I'm sorry I don't wipe my feet off after I get out of the shower, making puddles all over the bathroom floor.
6. I'm sorry when I inentionally leave half a cup of coffee in the coffeemaker just so I don't have to make the next pot.
7. I'm sorry I don't like The Chronicles of Riddick or Tron and have made so many jokes about those movies.
8. I'm sorry when I forget to empty the cat's litterbox until an unpleasant aroma invades the kitchen.
9. I'm sorry I keep squashing the garbage down in the can and adding more until it's impossible to get the bag out. (I have tried to remedy this, sticking post it reminders on the can, but. . .)
10. I'm sorry I have an uncanny ability not to see dust. By the way, please don't shut off any of the ceiling fans.
11. I'm sorry when we go shopping and you continually lose me because everything distracts me.
12. I'm also sorry that I can't shop in an "organized" manner and meander, seemingly with no purpose, through the aisles.
13. I'm sorry I can't resist eating all of your leftover pizza.
14. I'm sorry you frequently end up with pink, lime green, and lavender socks and t-shirts. Who would've thought one colored towel could do that?
15. I'm sorry I often start a conversation out loud, continue it and change topics in my head, then, to your confusion, voice the new topic out loud. I know how I got there, shouldn't you?
I'm sure there are a ton more that I can add to this, and I'm positive Jeremy, once he reads this, will have a plethora to add as well. However, no it's time to move on to the list of things I love about my husband.
1. I love how excited he gets about the little things. But really, we don't need photos of every mouse we catch in the electric trap. They sort of all look the same . . . like dead mice.
2. I love how he says, "My god," shakes his head, and laughs every time I do or say something stupid. Like telling someone our house once had a two story outhouse. Oops!
3. I love how he always makes up silly little songs about everything. I'm not sure which is my favorite--the "Gotta Pee" song or the "Making a Fire" song.
4. I love how he feeds me things, like berries off a bush, and he always gets the tasty ones, while I get the ones that taste horrid.
5. I love the way he constantly critiques my driving skills (you back into your father-in-law's car once. . .), but always has me drive us everywhere.
6. I love how he buys me things then ends up using them himself. For instance, the Cheetos he bought for me on Thursday and ate on Friday.
7. I love the fact that he so often goes along with ideas I have, even if it means turning our house into the Griswolds' at Christmas time.
8. I love how he somtimes puts up such a valiant attempt to disuade me from my ideas. I still want to put up lights for every holiday (Valentine's, President's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter. . .) even if no one else does.
9. I love how his hair looks in the morning-that sort of sprouty all over with a slight mohawk look.
10. I love how he can look at something and visualize how it should/will look. I do the same thing and end up way off. Like the roughly 600 square foot flower bed in front of our old house that I thought I could fill with about 100 bulbs. He then added 3 crepe myrtle trees, a weeping cherry tree, 2 camillias, 5 shrubs, 5 hostas, a weigela shrub, and a whole row of daylillies.
11. I love how he lets me drag him to small town festivals whenever I want. But then again, who wouldn't leap at the chance to go to the Peanut Festival, the Wild Hog Festival, the Wild Chicken Festival, the Crawfish Festival. . .
12. I love how he always points out all the cows and goats ("Cows!" "Goats!") whenver we're driving somewhere.
13. I love how he ends up chasing Binny through the whole house, up and down the stairs, before she finally just stops. I especially love seeing her blurred, gray fur streak down the stairs with Jeremy following and grumbling after. All that just to get her in the bedroom at night.
14. I love how he will find little things he thinks I will like and picks them up for me. Everything from pretty wildflowers to jewelry.
15. I love the sound of his laugh, and I love that the stupid things I do and say make him laugh so much. I will never get enough of the twinkle his eyes get and the way his cheeks look when he's happy and laughing, even if it's at me.
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