The Sad Tale of Uneaten Nuts

My husband is a squirrel enthusiast. He enjoys their agility and free-spirited, can-do attitude. Me, not so much. Ever since the murder of a somber squirrel I had briefly known named Sartoosh (see the grisly details here!), I've been kind of off of the whole befriending rodents thing.

We have a large smelly tree in the backyard. It grows some kind of fruit that I've never seen sold in stores and the reason for this is probably because it smells faintly of candy and blood. However, this scent has not put the local squirrel population off one bit. They flock to this tree. And the tree grows without a bit of help from me. Hoping to ignore the tree to death didn't work and it's grown about a foot since we bought the house, nestling up against our back porch which means the squirrels frolic around the back porch which is what first caught my husband's attention.

Listen, it's cute, I get it. Fuzzy grey haired little animals hopping around on a tree, it's fun. But while I am able to ignore the squirrel demographic, my big hearted husband is not. He started by watching them out the laundry room window, then he would slowly open the back door, hoping they wouldn't dash away. Day after day he worked at this, and day after day they ran. That's when he came up with the idea of a squirrel buffet of sorts, gently placing nuts on our back porch railing, making sure they were evenly spaced. But they snubbed his snacks. You would think instinct would take over and the squirrels would start snatching them up, maybe even fighting over this feast, but I guess their penchant for hurting my husband's feelings was greater than their urge to eat.

Finally, all of this came to an abrupt end. The excitement in my husband's eyes when he saw several nuts missing from the railing, and the despair once he realized it was the wind that had knocked them off. The cold nuts lying on the ground below. Unwanted. Ignored. Uneaten.

Oh, I'll catch him glancing out the back window from time to time, but I suspect that's more habit than hope. Sad, really.

Squirrels blow.

Thanky Panky

I am thankful that roller boogie is making a huge comeback, that the twitching in my left eye is waning, and that I get to fall asleep each night next to the coolest guy around.

Happy jive ass turkey day, you sweet taters!

Saturday Afternoon Thoughts

I'm thinking that my life is too small.

Seeing as how I'm in my early thirties, (plus way more years) I need to make more of a splash.  Right now my life feels like a series of to-do lists. 

How, though? How do I stir things up, make my life more of a sensation? Outside of cat burglary or something hero-ish, I think it may be a slow build. 

You see, I woke up this morning already late for my errands. Plus, I had a webinar I'd signed up for. Which, I should point out, is taking place as I write this. I've got the guy leading the webinar on speaker  phone and he is droning on and on about some lame ass thing that two weeks ago I thought would get me out of this rut. Placed the wrong bet there.  He's one of those people that tries to illustrate their emotions by using their voice. "I'm smiling with my voice." "Ugh, now I'm showing frustration!" Also, I don't believe a word he says. He's telling stories meant to inspire and it's making me seethe. My teeth are on edge. I should really hang up the phone, but there's this hopeful part of me that keeps half-listening for the game changer. The thing he's gonna say with his grating voice that will turn my life around. 

And let's face it, he's out there doing his thing. He may be lying and emphasizing words in an astonishingly irritating way, but he's doing a webinar that I signed up for. So, kudos to you, fuck face. And I say that with no inflection at all. 

Okay, I should start. Finish up here and get started. Get things moving. Get some thrills. I'm not known for my patience, but I am known as appallingly stubborn and I think that may come in handy. 

Or...I could curl up with a good book. And by good book I mean watch the House Hunters marathon. I'll let you know as things develop.

Easy as Pie

As I've mentioned in the past, I'm not a favorite in my neighborhood. And, quite frankly, my efforts to up my popularity have dwindled tremendously.

For many a moon I thought I could thaw their obvious distaste of me with friendly waves and home baked pies. They would melt like snowmen in sunshine, I thought.  Not so, my kittens, not so. They remain forever, it would seem, glacial.

So, I've thrown in the smelly towel and I can give you the exact date and time of when that towel was thrown - 8:21 a.m. yesterday. 

Why, you may shriek? Because, I shriek back, my crazy ass neighbor who loves nothing more than standing on her porch taking imaginary phone calls from her invisible cell phone, threw the N-bomb my way and she threw it hard.  Yes, I know, she's crazy. Yes, I know, I'm a whitey. But none of that really matters, does it? Especially at 8:21 in the a.m. when you're trying to help your 17 year old dog pee on the front lawn. 

You see, she has hurled many things at me before and I will now formally list them: Tin cans (large and small), old newspapers, insults, side eyes, mud, shade, and now, racial epithets. 

I'm pretty loose when it comes to hard and fast rules in my life, but with the handful I have, the N word is pretty much tops. Just don't say it. Super easy to follow. 

So the die has been cast. I remain the unpopular-pie baking-waver, but as of now, I just don't care. 

Have they won, you howl? No, sweet angels, we are the victors, I howl back. 

Or so I'd like to think. 

It is!

Super sexy! So cast your damn ballots, America!
And before you go to the polls...click this!