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Cicada belts and Butter whines
I had the Happy Day’s theme song playing in my head this morning – not for any nostalgic reasons – and I re-worked the lyrics to a little something like this:
“One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock F@&%!”
The first time I was summoned from sleep by my whining manatee was one a.m. precisely.
I slowly peeled my eyes open to the dim sight of Butters a mere inch away from my head.
She’s pretty patient when it comes to waiting for me to struggle out of bed and shuffle towards the front door.
Pretty patient for such a whining, antsy, slumber saboteur.
At the door I heard the most annoying noise.
Loud – squealing – chirping.
I’m trying NOT to wake up completely, so I’m only using a portion of my faculties on purpose – I did manage to wonder if maybe a cicada was right outside?
Did I want it inside? No.
Did I have the energy to care? No.
Then I thought it sounded like a small car malfunctioning fan belt.
Did I want a small car inside? No.
Did I have the energy to care? No.
Out the dog went without the introduction of either cicada, or small car into my humble abode.
Back to bed I went, without any concern for the open front door.
Next time I’ll just hang little welcome signs up for any scorpions or sun spiders and any other nocturnal creepy crawly hard shelled nightmares.
Ooo! Here we have a sun spider actually eating a cicada.
As far as I know, the only creature that entered the house after I stomped back to my bed was of the 4 legged variety.
I know this because approximately an hour later, said 4 legged creature wanted back outside.
1. Whine.
2. Stare.
3. Come within inch of human.
4. Whine again.
5. Repeat.
Almost e v e r y hour on the hour.
This morning – as Butters somehow managed her 5:30 a.m. wake up call after her restless night, I discovered the source of both the noise, and what must have bugging my insomni-pup.
The neighbors.
Not directly them this time – but their air conditioning unit.
As I stood on the porch with my coffee I heard the screech and whine of a slipping belt coming from it.
Wonderful.
I hope it doesn’t break completely – as the Fonz and I wouldn’t want them not being ‘cool’.
Correction!: Okay, OKAY!!! As a testament to how tired I am – I will tell you that I only NOW realized, after publishing, that the song in my head was not the Happy Days theme song at all – but this one. Jeez.
I’m not changing it though – because then I’ll lose my whole Fonz/Cool thing. Ayyyy!
I need sleep.
Musings from the Laundromat: Innocence lost – From Shar Pei to Smooth (and crunchy) Criminal
Butters and I have a delightful ‘thing’ we do.
Every night during the Summer, when the sun goes down – I say to her “Wanna go see your lizards??” She understands this and eagerly stands wagging at the front door.
It’s adorable.
The porch light attracts a myriad of Summer winged bugs and is prime real estate for Summer winged bug eaters.
We have a little family (maybe their not related – maybe it’s more of a commune?) of lizards living above the light, just under the eaves.
Butters will run out, sit staring at the wall and jump up to interact with one if she spots it.
______________________________
Last year she accidentally killed one – she placed it in her outdoor day bed and curled up with it. It was the most heartbreaking thing to witness.
Dead lizard, belly up – drying in the sun.
Dog treating it like a pup.
I let her grieve for her lost friend for a day or two, then disposed of it.
Last night, before bed – I asked ‘Wanna see your lizards?’
We stepped outside and she flew at the wall and BAM!
She must have nailed it just right.
Those manatee lips of hers may be cute, but they seem to be an impairment when it comes to getting anything flat or small past them and into her mouth.
Porch light lizard, (that I didn’t even have a chance to see) successfully (or, unsuccessfully from its point of view I’m sure) arrived in the mouth of my dog.
I stood in horror.
I thought she would spit it out – and what was I going to do to end the suffering of a mangled lizard??
No need to have worried myself with that ‘what if’.
My innocent, lover-not-a-fighter, cowardly manatee started chewing.
Intently.
I was still stood staring and my eyes widened with every crunch.
She then trotted over to her water bucket and delicately drank – it was like watching someone gingerly dab their lips with a fine linen napkin after tearing into a slab of raw meat.
It was then I noticed she had not devoured all of it.
I was disgusted – my stomach roiling.
Then I remembered she sleeps with me.
I was not taking any chances.
While she doesn’t often snuggle too close, many nights I wake to her standing inches away from my face, breathing heavily.
I washed her face – lips and tongue – and tossed a dental hygiene bone on the carpet for her.
I wonder if the other lizards have noticed their friend is missing??
What if I find tiny little ‘lost’ posters near the porch light tonight?!?
What if they spot the tail at the scene and surmise there was a struggle?
I shall have to get rid of the evidence.
Which makes me an accomplice to my canine criminal.
*sigh*
Musings from the Laundromat: College and Hypoallergenic Tortoises Edition
Ah college … the smell of new books, freshly sharpened pencils purchased lap tops, and visions of professors and libraries …
Nic’s first day of classes went well. I came home to him smiling – feeling confident – a sheen of ‘eau de higher education/grown up’ glistening on his skin.
Then he had math.
I received a call at work approximately 10 minutes before it was time to leave.
“That math class is so stupid! The teacher doesn’t explain and I have no idea what PAGES we’re supposed to do!!”
“OK, calm down – we’ll talk when I get home.”
My little bundle of college joy was freaking out.
The entire way home, all the cogs in my mind were turning.
Tutor … I could find a way to get a tutor. He can find his math teacher before the work is due and ask for clearer direction. He has to pass or his grant will be due and payable! Who do I know that’s good at math?? Why does he stress out so quickly? What did I do wrong? He used to be good at math.
Considering the fact that my drive home is 10 minutes, these were a lot of thoughts. And now that I’ve typed them out, I think I answered my ‘why does he stress out’ question.
Came to the conclusion though, that unless he wants to succeed – it didn’t matter what idea ‘Momma’ came up with.
We sat and discussed this. He said he would find a way.
I have to let go. I can’t solve problems for him anymore. I can steer him back to the crux of the situation though.
“Do you still want a degree?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you’ll find a way. If you want it, you just will.”
Inside I was agreeing with him though, that math does suck.
Now another bundle of joy story.
Friday, it was planned that I would accompany one of my nearest and dearest friends to collect her grand baby for the weekend.
I was happy to go along for the ride – besides getting to sniff baby head and bite little toes, the 45 minute drive was a great way to catch up with my friend.
We arrived at my friends mothers house and … OH! Look at this tree! It lives in her moms yard and when I saw it, I thought of Harry Potter, then of course, I had to take a photo.
Back to the story.
We enter the house and I headed straight to baby after saying ‘hello’ to friends mom.
You may only see a foot as I don’t know if the baby’s mom would be okay with some random person posting photographs of her daughter online.
I thought we were heading back to our town, but it turned out we were going to dinner.
I’m always up for dinner.
Long story short …
OK!
So we’re at the restaurant, and I’m remembering that not so long ago, the baby’s foot was a lot smaller. And the baby was doing all kinds of things baby couldn’t do last time I saw her.
“She’s getting so big!”
“Well, last time you saw her she was 3 months old.”
No way. Couldn’t be.
“It can’t have been that long!”
Apparently, yes it could have been that long – and my friend had proof.
Friend and friends mother exchanged glances and I knew, there was a very good reason they were certain of the last time I saw baby.
“That’s when we found out she’s allergic to animals.”
OH NO!
Butters.
Color me guilty and embarrassed … but then, I turned it around.
“So! I will always be part of her story! She had a ‘first’ after being at my house!”
*groan* I know! It’s not a good first! I was trying to stay positive.
I looked at my friend and said “You’re welcome.”
The drive home was filled with more catching up – and baby fell asleep.
My friend and I were yawning – but she had one more stop.
“I’ve got to see if the tortoise is outside of the chamber.”
“Oh my gawd, we’re those old people who stop and look at things like ‘Worlds Largest Ball of Yarn’ on road trips.”
Then: “It’s dark, how are we going to see a tortoise?”
I needn’t have worried.
“What’s it made of?!?”
“Metal I think, get out and touch it.”
“I’m not touchin’ it. You’ll leave me here.”
“No I won’t.”
“Well, I’m not touching it.”
“You’re going to blog about this aren’t you?”
____________________________________
Yes, Denice – yes I did.
Not so silent morning – and an Angel
Sleeps ‘til Christmas = 6
Gifts Purchased = 0
Holiday Spirit = 5 out of 10 thanks to an angel
I awoke this morning and proceeded with my ritual of letting the dog out then making coffee and shuffling about until coffee was ready.
I went outside to check out the moon next to Jupiter – probably would have been amazing if I had a telescope – but was still pretty cool. I wanted to be sure to see it.
Grabbed coffee, gulped some down then into the shower. Back to my bedroom, started to get ready for work and …
BANG!
Something fell in the house, and it didn’t sound like anything familiar.
You know you get keyed into certain household noises … they have their own distinct familiar sounds.
Posters falling off a wall, the sound of an animal skidding across a table, those suction cup shower caddy’s that never stay cupped spilling all of it’s contents onto your shower floor. (Worst part of picking up a shower caddy from your tub by the way – spending time figuring out how to get the blade back on your razor and licking the damn suction cups.)
Anyway – this wasn’t an identifiable noise.
And it was quite loud. I was a tad alarmed.
I was in a towel – and while I’m not afraid to investigate noises or confront burglars or serial killers, I wasn’t doing it naked.
I threw my pajamas back on and opened the bedroom door.
I could see Butters staring towards the kitchen. There is a dividing curtain between the kitchen and Nic’s ‘wing’ of our shoebox. She was staring at it. And looking very uncomfortable.
Then a growl/woof from ‘Butters the brave’.
Seriously – is there anything more disturbing than your dog being disturbed and afraid of a noise whilst staring at something unseen? No. No there is not.
I forgot my knife and my pepper spray – but continued on. Pulled the curtain back and found the source of the thud.
Nic’s air rifle had fallen over in the laundry-room-that-does-no-laundry.
Gawd.
OK, so I probably didn’t need more coffee now that my heart was beating faster, but I got more anyway.
Finished getting ready and came into the living room to sit for a bit and catch some news.
It wasn’t until I was on the couch that I noticed something on our little fake Christmas tree.
My son went to his girlfriends house yesterday for a Christmas Party – I was invited but opted out as I’ve not been feeling well the past few days and certainly didn’t want to spread any Holiday Cheer of a viral kind.
Oh! Before they went, they made this at our house:
I commented on FB
“Damn teenagers these days! Leave my son unattended after playing all those violent video games and look what he did with his girlfriend while I was at work.”
(I really am lucky you know – I am blessed with a very good kid and I know it.)
I also suggested that probably it wasn’t a good idea to leave me unattended with a candied house. I was eyeing the shrubberies with some interest … but, it survived intact.
Anyway!
So – this is what was on the Christmas tree:
I have to admit, the first thought that went through my head was how huge she looked up there. It’s a tiny little tree.
Then the holiday spirit hit.
How thoughtful!
It was either from my sons girlfriend Chelsea, or my son somehow got it.
Either way, she was placed there while I slept and whether it was intended or not – put happy tears in my eyes and a warmth in my heart this morning.
So, Thank You to my secret angel.
(And Butters, that’s strike two – first you try to eat me, then you don’t protect me! Coal is in your future.)
Butters – and how I’m not going to be eaten by cats
I always assumed I’d meet my end dying unnoticed in my house, then being partially eaten by my copious amount of future cats. My body perhaps found by the Laundromat Lady when I didn’t show up on a Sunday to muse?
Turns out Butters is what I have to worry about.
I know this because last night as I was on my belly, inching across the floor – she tried to eat me.
Okay – rewind.
You might like a little back story.
(And funnily enough, that’s what it is.)
I was in my sons room saying ‘goodnight’ and asked ‘Can you crack my back without lifting me?’
Nothing worked, so I lay down on the floor and Nic stepped on me. I was stretched out and pulled myself forward on my elbows to lengthen my spine. It felt good.
So while I was down there – of course, I went into tangent mode.
‘What if I had a broken leg and had to get to the door??’
Only way to find out if I could reach the front door was to try it.
You know, like anyone laying on their childs bedroom floor would think to do. Nothing weird here.
So I’m pulling myself using only upper body strength across his carpet.
A military belly crawl, only, I wasn’t allowing myself to use my legs – they remained dead weight. (Remember, my imaginary broken leg … of course, I wasn’t factoring in the pain I’d have to contend with should I actually have a broken leg, but we work with what we have.)
I encountered tile and was unable to get a grip due to my flannel pajama bottoms and fleece sweatshirt. (*Note to self, break leg in clothing with more traction.)
I should have stopped there – experiment over. I was screwed once I hit a slippery surface.
But Nic’s in the spirit of things now and pulls me across that obstacle.
Next the kitchen.
By now – Butters has noticed me in a vulnerable position on the ground. Does she worry? Look upon me in curiosity? Go for help?
No! She attacks.
I’m scooting across the kitchen rug and intermittently having my head chewed on.
I tried playing dead – but she just kept running off and returning to gnaw on me.
“I’ve got her! Go! Go!”
Nic held her back as I inched into the living room.
Why am I still doing this?!? Because I’d come that far – that’s why.
I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going now, but it was very apparent that if I were home alone and did have to wriggle to a phone or an exit without using my legs, Butters would be the reason I wouldn’t succeed.
Experiment over.
I hadn’t quite forgiven her after I climbed into bed.
I lay there on my stomach, getting comfortable, my head turned to the right when I heard snorting and felt warmth on the back of my head.
*sigh*
Really??
I sleep on a California King sized mattress – there’s enough room for me, Butters and both sets of Charlie Buckets’ grandparents!
Yet, Butters, obviously exhausted from attacking me, was snoring less than 5 inches from the back of my head.
She has a side! This is ‘homeless dog’ that I took in that now has a side of my bed.
She doesn’t like to cuddle, so I decided it was likely she was guarding me like one of her bones.
(Oh gawd, what if my imaginary broken leg is a compound fracture?!?! She’ll try to drag my sticky-out bone off!)
Anyway, she was still tired this morning (good!) so I managed to capture evidence of her close proximity. Then I just pestered her for photos to be annoying.
She’s getting really sick of the camera.
Perhaps I need to remember to break my leg in clothes with traction and a camera around my neck … then I stand a chance.
Butters on the left, my pillow on the right.
Me being happy I was annoying the dog
Debauchery Soup 