HA HA! YESSSSS!!!!

WE CAUGHT ONE!

A squirrel, that is. The guy came out on Tuesday and set a trap right outside our eaves where we thought the little critters might be getting in and out. I came home yesterday and there was a squirrel in the trap.

Of course now I'm guilt ridden. What if it wasn't THE squirrel who we suspect is living in our home but just A squirrel that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He looked all cute and furry, huddled there in the steel trap against the cold wind. The cats could see him from their spot on the windowsill, and Lucy sat there fascinated for well over an hour.

I called Critter Control at 4:30, when I got home, to let them know to come get the squirrel. However, I got their answering machine. I kept looking at the little squirrel. It looked very cold. Poor little fella. What if Critter Control didn't get my message until tomorrow? I couldn't let him sit out there and freeze all night.

I decided I would take the cage down, stick it in the back of my car, drive 10 miles to a nearby park, and release Rocky myself. I got out the ladder, climbed up, smiled at God's little creature and...

...almost fell backward off the ladder as this squirrel went freaking nuts.

I reached a hand toward the cage and the squirrel went wild. It was flying and bolting inside the trap, shaking the steel bars, biting the bars, flying back toward me, up, down, over, top, bottom, boom-boom-boom. This was a creature possessed.

I felt bad. Obviously it was scared. But when me saying, "It's okay, I won't hurt you," in my most soothing of tones didn't do the trick, I backed down. Have you ever seen the claws on a squirrel? Those things are like daggers - long and sharp.

Luckily, CC had called me back while I was outside to say their guy was on the way. So now we wait and see if the noises have gone away. If so, we can block up the holes.

Fingers crossed.

Dating While Married

Ha! I bet some of you thought this was going to be a "we practice free-love and so should you and here's our number" type entry. Try again, pervo's. This is simply a rant on the difficulty of finding things to do once you're married.

I believe I mentioned in a past post that every other Friday night is heavy-duty cleaning night. Which still leaves us with 4 Saturday nights and 2 Friday nights each month to actually leave the house and have fun.

You'll notice there is no mention of week nights. That's because week nights are work nights. I don't know when or how exactly I turned into my parents on this subject, but it happened. We don't even have kids, for God's sake, but I think both of us would look at anyone in slack-jawed amazement should it be suggested we go to a movie or see a play on a Tuesday. That's just crazy talk!

Actually, we did have a chance to go out on a Monday night the other week. My friend Rachel found a one-night show of some hot new comedian who was appearing at a club downtown at 8:30 (8:30 pm! On a work night!), and did we want to go?

We did.

But I had stipulations.

First I wanted to know if it was a sit-down club. I didn't want to stand all night. Second, was smoking allowed, because I didn't want to go home smelling like smoke. And would there be a lot of noisy college kids? The thought of being bumped into by large boys carrying beers and placing bets on whether or not they'd get laid that night was not enticing.

So I would go. I was game, I said, as long as it's a quiet, sit-down, non-smoking, older crowd that didn't drink excessively and we would be home at a decent hour.

At what point, exactly, did I turn 80?

I remember my best friend Trisha surprised me with Billy Joel concert tickets for my 21st birthday. We had 11th row seats and stood and screamed and danced and sang the entire concert. There were some middle-aged couples behind us and to the side, who kept trying to get all the kids to sit down, so they could stay seated and see Joel and enjoy the concert. "Man, I hope I never get like that," we said to one another. "Too uptight to enjoy a concert for what it is."

I have this terrible fear that now, should I go see a Billy Joel concert, I would be the one begging the kids around me to please, just sit down.

But all is not lost. We made plans to see a play this weekend and I found an improv comedy club in GSO that gives workshops. The thought of doing improv scares me, so I think I'm going to have to do it.

I just better not see any noisy college kids there.

Comforting Sounds

I was lying on the upstairs guest bed this morning, petting Lucy, when she sat up and stared out the window. A school bus had stopped up the street and the noise it made as it revved its engine and pulled out caught her attention.

I turned nostalgic. How easy is it to close your eyes and remember the sound and smell of a school bus? The always underlying smell of fuel, the steamed windows, the humid air of too many kids crowded into one space, all stuffed into mufflers and winter coats and now perspiring in the interior heat of the bus.

But it was the sound of the heavy engine pulling away that really brought it back to me. And I started thinking of other "comfort sounds," most from childhood. We all have them. Here's my list:

• The muted whoosh-whoosh sound of the dishwasher running at night, reassuring me Mom and Dad were still up and about and therefore lessoning the chances I would be eaten alive by the monster that was surely hiding under my bed
• A crackling fire
• The distant sound of the train whistle I can hear from my bed at night
• The sound of your parents car pulling in the drive when you were being babysat
• A purring cat (it never gets old)
• Chalk writing on a chalkboard
• The radio playing softly in the mornings downstairs when I woke for school
• The satisfying "splash" sound from running and jumping in a pool
• The sound of a lone car going up the street at night
• Shawn Cassidy singing "Da-do-da-run-run" on the 45 record I used to have
• The pop sound that used to made when you pulled the metal tab off a soda
• Silverware clinking on plates at Thanksgiving
• A dogs toenails on hardwood floors
• My husband humming in the shower

It's important to remind yourself every now and then that life is good.

Chill Out

Seven degrees here and the pipes are frozen--again. While it's a lovely excuse not to shower, I'm teaching a public speaking class tonight and I do think it adds to the presentation when the instructor shows up clean.

Aside from no hot water, there is also a chill in the air. I've got the downstairs heat set on 73 but haven't been able to get the temperature past 69 degrees this morning. This old house just has too many drafts. You basically have to bundle up to walk past the cracks under the front and back doors, and the kitten was frozen to the couch this morning from the drafts seeping in from the window. I made the mistake of stepping on our hardwood floors without socks and had to use an ice-pick to free myself.

The only thing I can think to do is to drink large and piping hot quantities of coffee. I'm on it.

I'm still feeling stymied by that "so much to do I don't know where to start" feeling. I believe I'll devote the day to finishing up the application for my artists grant. I've written the narrative, and now must pull together the budget numbers.

Budget numbers. See, that's what's driving me into the closet. Numbers. Math. I break out in a flop sweat if someone even mentions the word "algebra." I should not be left unsupervised to do this.

But it's that or take an ice-shower, so project numbers it is. I love when life presents one with choices.

Happy bathing.