Killer Squirrels Never Die... They Just Hibernate Away

They're back. Like an unwanted cold or an unannounced visit from the in-laws, the return each spring of the killer squirrels is never cause for celebration. Yet as I type, there is mad scrabbling in the walls and ceiling surrounding me, and the sound of dirt dropping through our ventilation system. Stupid squirrels. Why can't they take a hint and leave us alone?

I'm putting off calling Critter Control, although I know that's what I'll be reduced to eventually. $150 for a house visit and poison baiting. Never mind that the Harris household has taken a bit of a financial punch this month in terms of cat dental surgery, a new-used car, an eye exam and new contact lenses for me, and just this morning Blair went to the doctor because the cat scratches on his neck is actually a cat bite and inflamed. They gave him a tetanus shot and a 10-day dose of medicine. People, the well is dry.

And ... oh dear God. Something just shuddered in the wall in front of me, right behind the vent. It was the sound a dog makes when it comes out of the water and shakes itself dry. Or the sound a killer squirrel makes before launching itself through a heat vent onto the head of a person sitting at a computer, typing.

Fine, I give. I'm off to call Critter Control right now.

Bloodbath

We barely escaped alive.  I'm speaking of two nights ago when our normally docile Olivia cat "went monkey on our ass" to quote a recent saying of Blair's, and attacked.

It wasn't her fault. Since her dental surgery, she's had to take these huge horse pills twice a day. We'd almost gotten it down to a science. Blair scooped her up, I stood behind them and opened her mouth, popped the pill in, and done. Took all of 5 seconds. Except two nights ago we weren't quite sure the pill had gone down and so repried her mouth open to check. We didn't have a firm grip on her and I could see the panic in her eyes as we tried to peer down her throat and then she got a paw loose.

"Abort! Abort!" I said.

"No, I've got her," said Blair, trying to get a grip on a squirming cat.

I tried to help, but she was already mostly free and used our hands and necks as grip pads for her claws to launch herself to the ground. I escaped with only a few scratches on my hands and arms. Blair looks like he came under mortar attack. His neck has two sets of deep puncture wounds, making it look like he was set upon by vampires.

I felt bad for Olivia that we'd scared her. But later that night when I walked into the bedroom, she was already there, curled up tight against Blair's back, one paw stretched out and resting lightly on his shoulder.

"It was so sweet," I told him the next morning.

"Please," he said. "That paw was just her way of saying, 'Check out my kill.' We're just a bunch of prey to her."

The pills end Thursday. We're all looking forward to it.

So Long, Saturn

Today I say goodbye to my 1996 white Saturn station-wagon. The car I was loathe to drive at first but which has become my loyal friend. I'm driving it to Fayetteville today to hand it over to Blair's sister. The poor thing (meaning the car) has no idea what's in store for it...

I went with the 2002 Toyota Camry for my "new" car. Here's my reasoning: it was the easiest choice. I am not a car person and the thought of spending even just a week test driving cars, comparing cars online, and dealing with car dealers was enough to drive me underground. My friend Kim hit on it when we had lunch together last week. "You should just buy the Camry," he said. "I can tell by your tone you want nothing more to do with this car buying process."

Bingo.  The Camry was there, the price was right, I know the person who owned it before me and so know it was serviced and taken care of... let's just end this. And so now a beige Camry sits out front.

I called my friend Trisha to break the news. She was disappointed, but nice about it. As she said, "The only reason I complain about your cars is that you are such a fun person and your choice of vehicle never reflects that." Fair enough, and I appreciate the back-handed compliment.

But for now, maybe I'll just get a personalized license plate that reads "StillFUN".

Happy Easter

Today's post will be a mish-mash of events. We had a lovely Easter meal, having become quite the...well, chefs is too strong a word. Quite the novice chefs, then. We pull out the cookbooks on Friday nights, along with our schedules, and plan meals for the week. I'd say we're  cooking 3-4 full dinners a week. Vegetarian Paella, Salmon & Asparagus Quinoa, Vegetarian Chicken Fajitas, and even ramping up simple dishes like spaghetti with marinara sauce by adding white beans and broccoli (recipe from Runner's World magazine.) It's fun, as most of the recipes are turning out to be not only edible, but tasty. Quite the new experience for me. We have two folders now in our kitchen. Green folder = recipes to try, Red folder = Tried & liked.

We just got back from hiking around our "mountain" property. I haven't been there all winter and I'm glad we went. It reminded me of why I want the cabin. Everything on the 38 acres is raw, natural, unvarnished. We climbed over huge pine trees uprooted by recent windstorms. We jumped on rocks to cross the creek as the wooden bridge we used to use now resembles an ancient Mayan ruin near collapse. We watched monarch butterflies trace the path of the creek and we got ambitious and scaled the hills covered in rotting logs and leaves to reach the far end of our property. It was beautiful and exhausting and nurturing, all at once.

Now we'll collapse on the couch, pull the leftovers out of the fridge, and eat more food than we need to while we watch the Carolina game.  The sun is shining, it's a cloudless 55 degrees, we have the windows open, and I'm going to go make hot tea and beg Blair to tell me where he's hid the dark chocolate.

Happy Easter, everyone.