Well Quirky fans, I'm off. A whole week of me without Internet access, and a whole week of my mother guest posting to keep you company. Ya'll make her feel special and leave her lots of nice comments...unless of course she's telling stories to embarrass me, and then feel free to roll your eyes and hiss "Moooooooooooom! Stop it!" (Try to put as many syllables in Mom as you can- that way she'll recognize that it came from me).
Mom will be posting for the next few days, and I'll see you back in a week!
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5/17/08
Old Geezer Dives Again!
The Masters National Diving Championships are this weekend, and it just so happens that they are being held right here in Knoxville! Having fought his way back from knee and shoulder surgery after last year's Masters, Dear ol' Dad is back at it again! He flips! He twists! He struts around in a tiny bathing suit!
More of that above-mentioned flipping and twisting. Pretty impressive for an old guy, huh? Pretty impressive for any age.
And where would Dad be without his cheering section? My sign says "This impartial judge says PERFECT 10!" I held it up when all the other judges were giving their scores. (Oh, and the other side says "GO Old Geezer GO!". That side may have also been held up every now and then).
Here are the highlights from today's event, the one meter board:
Here's Dad getting ready to start. No, he's not throwing a gang sign...I think he was waving to Mom right as I snapped the picture. 
Look how nice and straight he is! Right down to his pointed toes! Then-floop!-right into the water with nary a ripple. I love watching Dad dive. He's poetry in motion.
More of that above-mentioned flipping and twisting. Pretty impressive for an old guy, huh? Pretty impressive for any age.And where would Dad be without his cheering section? My sign says "This impartial judge says PERFECT 10!" I held it up when all the other judges were giving their scores. (Oh, and the other side says "GO Old Geezer GO!". That side may have also been held up every now and then). Dad's second part of the competition, the three meter, is tomorrow. Go get'em Dad! Show those other geezers what you're made of! We're proud of you!
Springboard diving- Betcha' YOUR Dad can't do this!
5/14/08
Quirky Mom! Coming To A Blog Near You!
If you've seen the auto-publish test feature on here, you may have deduced that I'm planning on leaving ya'll unattended for a little while. I'm taking a little bloggy vacation next week, as I will be without Internet access for several days. Not to worry though! I have left you in good hands. Actually, the best possible hands I could think of- my mom's.
Yes, while I am away on my internet-less sojourn (pray for me...I may not be able to stand not being connected for an entire week), my very own real life mother will be guest posting. And oh, you do not want to miss this! If you have ever wondered what made a Quirky the way she is today, look no further than her mother, the original Quirk. I have given her no restrictions or parameters, so there is no telling what she's going to post about. The sky is the limit. And ya'll, her generation has no filter, so anything is fair game. I'm just warning you in advance. This is the woman who sat around the Easter dinner table, bombarding my brand new boyfriend with stories of how she pushed too hard and ruptured her placenta when she was pregnant with me. (Poor Tony- he was totally freaked out. Here he was meeting my family for the first time, and my mother is describing oozing placenta stories over the ham and deviled eggs. It's a wonder he ever stuck around long enough to marry me).
On the other hand, she's also funny and thoughtful and smart and quirky, so it'll be just like me, only with reading glasses and a recollection of the Nixon administration.
Ya'll be nice to Mom while I'm gone. She wiped my rear and taught me to ride a bike and made my prom dresses and risked her life by teaching me to drive. She gave me advice on boys (not that I listened) and helped me with my science projects and kissed boo-boos. She's always been here for me, even now when I asked her to take time out of her day to guest post.
If you have any questions that you'd like Mom to answer, ask them now in the comment section and I'll pass them along to her. I'm not saying she'll answer them, because she may have already been thinking of something to write, and Mother knows best, but she may like the ideas too.
Mark your calendars! Quirky Mom starts Monday.
Yes, while I am away on my internet-less sojourn (pray for me...I may not be able to stand not being connected for an entire week), my very own real life mother will be guest posting. And oh, you do not want to miss this! If you have ever wondered what made a Quirky the way she is today, look no further than her mother, the original Quirk. I have given her no restrictions or parameters, so there is no telling what she's going to post about. The sky is the limit. And ya'll, her generation has no filter, so anything is fair game. I'm just warning you in advance. This is the woman who sat around the Easter dinner table, bombarding my brand new boyfriend with stories of how she pushed too hard and ruptured her placenta when she was pregnant with me. (Poor Tony- he was totally freaked out. Here he was meeting my family for the first time, and my mother is describing oozing placenta stories over the ham and deviled eggs. It's a wonder he ever stuck around long enough to marry me).
On the other hand, she's also funny and thoughtful and smart and quirky, so it'll be just like me, only with reading glasses and a recollection of the Nixon administration.
Ya'll be nice to Mom while I'm gone. She wiped my rear and taught me to ride a bike and made my prom dresses and risked her life by teaching me to drive. She gave me advice on boys (not that I listened) and helped me with my science projects and kissed boo-boos. She's always been here for me, even now when I asked her to take time out of her day to guest post.
If you have any questions that you'd like Mom to answer, ask them now in the comment section and I'll pass them along to her. I'm not saying she'll answer them, because she may have already been thinking of something to write, and Mother knows best, but she may like the ideas too.
Mark your calendars! Quirky Mom starts Monday.
5/13/08
Test Auto Publish
Rumor has it that draft.blogger can now auto publish future posts like what wordpress does. This is VERY nice for us Blogger people who are too lazy loyal to move addresses over to Wordpress.
For more info, check out this link.
In the mean time, This is a test of the emergency auto-publish feature. This is only a test. Were this a real blog entry, it would probably be longer. And funnier. And maybe have a point.
Or not.
Anyway, I'm testing the auto-publish feature to see if it is reliable enough to allow me to leave my little blog-o-fun here unattended for a day or two without ya'll having to suffer Quirky withdrawl.
Cause I'm thoughtful like that. (You know me, just looking out for my peeps).
If you see this, it worked. If you don't, well, never you mind then.
For more info, check out this link.
In the mean time, This is a test of the emergency auto-publish feature. This is only a test. Were this a real blog entry, it would probably be longer. And funnier. And maybe have a point.
Or not.
Anyway, I'm testing the auto-publish feature to see if it is reliable enough to allow me to leave my little blog-o-fun here unattended for a day or two without ya'll having to suffer Quirky withdrawl.
Cause I'm thoughtful like that. (You know me, just looking out for my peeps).
If you see this, it worked. If you don't, well, never you mind then.
5/13/08
I HAD A Dream
I know, I know, you missed me yesterday. I'm sorry. Here's what happened:
On Sunday night, I was having a fabulous dream about a blog that I wrote. (I often drift off to sleep at night writing blogs or short stories in my head, so this isn't that bizarre that the blog continued into my dreams). Anyway, in my dream, this was the BEST. POST. EVER! I had it all written out, and it was funny, and thoughtful, and poignant, and everything a good blog entry should be. And I kept thinking to myself, "THIS IS THE BEST BLOG POST EVER!" and was really very proud of myself for bringing my bloggy game to a whole new level. It was gold, baby, solid gold.
And you know where this is going, don't you?
Yep, woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a single thing that it was about. Not a single thing. Which was really annoying because all night long I kept telling myself to read it over and over again so that I wouldn't forget it. And I even debated about waking myself up and writing notes on it, just to be sure that I got it all down when I really woke up. But alas. In dream world, you never wake yourself up to make notes because you tell yourself that you would never EVER forget something this fabulous.
(Remember the Seinfeld episode where Jerry thinks of a really funny joke in his sleep, but in the morning he can't read the words he jotted down to remind himself?)
I spent all day yesterday racking my brain, trying to remember even a smidgeon of the post that was going to catapult me into international bloggy fame, and no doubt be ripped off by hundreds of graduating high school seniors who would blatantly steal it and read it at their graduation ceremonies (without giving me credit, because that's what they do, but I wouldn't even care because THAT's how good this post was). Nothing. Not one word. And I was so dejected by this that I couldn't even bring myself to come up with something else that would never ever compare to the Post That Never Was.
So there you go. My one chance at bloggy stardom, which would have no doubt landed me a book deal and a spot with Oprah and an invitation to hang out with JK Rowling in her swanky castle, lost to the world. I know, you are all weeping with the injustice of it all. Your lives will never be the same.
The moral of the story is that when you have the perfect post dancing around in your subconscious, GET OUT OF BED RIGHT AWAY NO MATTER WHAT TIME IT IS OR HOW LITTLE SLEEP YOU'VE HAD OR WHAT TIME YOU HAVE TO BE UP THE NEXT MORNING AND WRITE THAT POST! Because no matter what your sleep-induced brain promises you, that post will NOT still be hanging around in the morning.
And instead of bloggy brilliance, all the high school seniors will have to resort back to starting their speeches with, "Webster's dictionary defines success as...". Oh, you know they will.
On Sunday night, I was having a fabulous dream about a blog that I wrote. (I often drift off to sleep at night writing blogs or short stories in my head, so this isn't that bizarre that the blog continued into my dreams). Anyway, in my dream, this was the BEST. POST. EVER! I had it all written out, and it was funny, and thoughtful, and poignant, and everything a good blog entry should be. And I kept thinking to myself, "THIS IS THE BEST BLOG POST EVER!" and was really very proud of myself for bringing my bloggy game to a whole new level. It was gold, baby, solid gold.
And you know where this is going, don't you?
Yep, woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a single thing that it was about. Not a single thing. Which was really annoying because all night long I kept telling myself to read it over and over again so that I wouldn't forget it. And I even debated about waking myself up and writing notes on it, just to be sure that I got it all down when I really woke up. But alas. In dream world, you never wake yourself up to make notes because you tell yourself that you would never EVER forget something this fabulous.
(Remember the Seinfeld episode where Jerry thinks of a really funny joke in his sleep, but in the morning he can't read the words he jotted down to remind himself?)
I spent all day yesterday racking my brain, trying to remember even a smidgeon of the post that was going to catapult me into international bloggy fame, and no doubt be ripped off by hundreds of graduating high school seniors who would blatantly steal it and read it at their graduation ceremonies (without giving me credit, because that's what they do, but I wouldn't even care because THAT's how good this post was). Nothing. Not one word. And I was so dejected by this that I couldn't even bring myself to come up with something else that would never ever compare to the Post That Never Was.
So there you go. My one chance at bloggy stardom, which would have no doubt landed me a book deal and a spot with Oprah and an invitation to hang out with JK Rowling in her swanky castle, lost to the world. I know, you are all weeping with the injustice of it all. Your lives will never be the same.
The moral of the story is that when you have the perfect post dancing around in your subconscious, GET OUT OF BED RIGHT AWAY NO MATTER WHAT TIME IT IS OR HOW LITTLE SLEEP YOU'VE HAD OR WHAT TIME YOU HAVE TO BE UP THE NEXT MORNING AND WRITE THAT POST! Because no matter what your sleep-induced brain promises you, that post will NOT still be hanging around in the morning.
And instead of bloggy brilliance, all the high school seniors will have to resort back to starting their speeches with, "Webster's dictionary defines success as...". Oh, you know they will.
5/9/08
Game Set Match
After an overwhelming win last week, the raccoon stunned the sports world by unexpectedly conceding defeat and getting himself trapped in the cage last night.
The thing is, now that we have him, I feel really sorry about the whole deal. I mean, he just wanted a place in out of the rain. He looks so sad in that little cage. I'd really like to just let him go, but I know he'll keep trying to get into the house if we do.
My hats off to you Mr. Raccoon. You were a worthy opponent.
Oh, and upon closer inspection of the cage once it was off the roof? Not a marshmallow. A little white cup about the size of the marshmallow. I don't know what it held since the raccoon already ate it, but I'm going to assume that it wasn't mini-mallows. So just to clear things up since I've been going on and on about these stupid marshmallows for about two weeks now- the raccoon bait was NOT a marshmallow.
Although not to say he wouldn't eat one given the chance...Heaven knows I do.
5/7/08
On My (Mouth) Soap Box
I'm on my frivolous lawsuit soap box today. I'll try to keep the ranting to a minimum.
I always have the TV on so that I can listen to the Today show while I get ready in the mornings. Today I was listening to them do a tour of the Vice President's house while brushing my teeth, and then as I'm gargling with my mouthwash chaser, I hear the TV say something like, "Next, a mouthwash that stains your teeth instead of whitening them? Find out why users of Crest ProHealth are so mad".
And I glace up at the TV to see a picture of Crest ProHealth.
And I glance down at the bottle of mouthwash in my hand.
Crest ProHealth.
Well isn't that just peachy. My mouthwash is staining my teeth.
I spit it out and looked closely at my teeth in the mirror while the Today show interviews a 14 year old girl who claims that it stained her teeth. (This is their proof? A 14 year old? And one that can't even show her stained teeth as proof because she "went to the dentist twice" in order to get the stains removed.) Apparently, the alcohol-free mouthwash kills the bacteria in your mouth but leaves the little bacteria carcasses on your teeth, which makes them look brown. Uh-hmmm. Wouldn't all mouthwashes, regardless of alcohol, kill germs and leave them on your teeth? Wouldn't you spit them out when you were through? I'm not sure I'm buying this.
Nonetheless, suddenly my teeth look a little more brown.
Today also has a guy from Proctor and Gamble, makers of Crest ProHealth on TV. He says that they haven't gotten any complaints about the mouthwash staining anyone's teeth. Wouldn't they have heard if this was happening?
Ah, the 14 year old retaliates, but what if people don't KNOW that it's the mouthwash that's doing the staining? What if they attributed it to something else?
That's true. I certainly wouldn't think my mouthwash was leaving stains on my teeth. I would think coffee or cokes or tea or something before I would think of mouthwash. But I'm also wondering how the 14 year old figured out that it was the mouthwash as opposed to the cokes or teas or whatever else she drinks. Apparently she read about it when she googled it and found other people claiming that it caused stains on their teeth. (And you know that if it's on the Internet, it must be true!)
I popped on over to the Crest ProHealth website, which is in full defense mode with all kinds of dentists saying that it is completely safe and ALL mouthwashes leave dead germs on your teeth. They say that the staining is temporary and 99.99% of people don't even notice it. I have to agree. I can't honestly say that I thought anything about it until I saw the report. And because I like the alcohol-free stuff, I'll keep right on using it, temporary stains or no.
Of course, because this is America, there's a lawsuit involved. Because Crest didn't put a warning label on their bottle about possible stains, people are suing them for fraud. (I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that P&G is a billion dollar company). C'mon now people. It's temporary, and if you don't like it, don't use it. Mouthwash didn't ruin your life. Brush your teeth and move on with your lives.
If I were Crest, I'd attach little free samples of Crest white strips to the mouthwash and call it a day.
I always have the TV on so that I can listen to the Today show while I get ready in the mornings. Today I was listening to them do a tour of the Vice President's house while brushing my teeth, and then as I'm gargling with my mouthwash chaser, I hear the TV say something like, "Next, a mouthwash that stains your teeth instead of whitening them? Find out why users of Crest ProHealth are so mad".
And I glace up at the TV to see a picture of Crest ProHealth.
And I glance down at the bottle of mouthwash in my hand.
Crest ProHealth.
Well isn't that just peachy. My mouthwash is staining my teeth.
I spit it out and looked closely at my teeth in the mirror while the Today show interviews a 14 year old girl who claims that it stained her teeth. (This is their proof? A 14 year old? And one that can't even show her stained teeth as proof because she "went to the dentist twice" in order to get the stains removed.) Apparently, the alcohol-free mouthwash kills the bacteria in your mouth but leaves the little bacteria carcasses on your teeth, which makes them look brown. Uh-hmmm. Wouldn't all mouthwashes, regardless of alcohol, kill germs and leave them on your teeth? Wouldn't you spit them out when you were through? I'm not sure I'm buying this.
Nonetheless, suddenly my teeth look a little more brown.
Today also has a guy from Proctor and Gamble, makers of Crest ProHealth on TV. He says that they haven't gotten any complaints about the mouthwash staining anyone's teeth. Wouldn't they have heard if this was happening?
Ah, the 14 year old retaliates, but what if people don't KNOW that it's the mouthwash that's doing the staining? What if they attributed it to something else?
That's true. I certainly wouldn't think my mouthwash was leaving stains on my teeth. I would think coffee or cokes or tea or something before I would think of mouthwash. But I'm also wondering how the 14 year old figured out that it was the mouthwash as opposed to the cokes or teas or whatever else she drinks. Apparently she read about it when she googled it and found other people claiming that it caused stains on their teeth. (And you know that if it's on the Internet, it must be true!)
I popped on over to the Crest ProHealth website, which is in full defense mode with all kinds of dentists saying that it is completely safe and ALL mouthwashes leave dead germs on your teeth. They say that the staining is temporary and 99.99% of people don't even notice it. I have to agree. I can't honestly say that I thought anything about it until I saw the report. And because I like the alcohol-free stuff, I'll keep right on using it, temporary stains or no.
Of course, because this is America, there's a lawsuit involved. Because Crest didn't put a warning label on their bottle about possible stains, people are suing them for fraud. (I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that P&G is a billion dollar company). C'mon now people. It's temporary, and if you don't like it, don't use it. Mouthwash didn't ruin your life. Brush your teeth and move on with your lives.
If I were Crest, I'd attach little free samples of Crest white strips to the mouthwash and call it a day.
5/6/08
6 On The 6th (Better Known As 10 on Tuesday)
I know we normally do 10 on Tuesday, but I'm a bit swamped today, so we'll have to limit it to 6. Maybe call it 6 on the 6th or something. That works, right?
One- So the grades have come back for my thesis dissertation, and I have an A! (Okay, technically an A-, but let's not get caught up in all the pluses and minuses...an A is an A!) Woot! Throw your hands in the air! And wave 'em like you just don't care! This calls for a celebration! Preferably in the form of brownies! Or more Rice Crispy Treats, because I made short work of the ones from the wedding party.
Two- Speaking of marshmallowy goodness...the raccoon wins. We give up. We have been outsmarted by an oversized rodent. The traps have been on the roof for more than a week, and the raccoon just isn't biting. So we're taking the traps down, sealing up the spots where he is getting in, and just keeping our fingers crossed that coming home to find the locks changed will be enough incentive to move on as opposed to say, ripping a new opening into the roof. More fingers are crossed that he won't be in the attic when Trapper Joe comes to seal it up. (He's very good at hiding, our genius raccoon). I guess we'll know soon enough if we hear lots of banging and crashing noises overhead after the holes are closed up.
Three- In other fun homeowner news, there's a mystery smell in the living room. I swear it's mildew, like the carpet got wet (which it did when I scrubbed it trying to get out the mystery smell), but I have no idea why it would still be lingering. Tony thought it originated when the cat knocked over a glass of milk and he put the SpotBot on it (if you don't have one of these- get one! They are lifesavers!) but that should have stopped the smell, and since then, it's only gotten stronger. It's in one corner of the living room, and nothing looks or feels wet (with the exception of when we try to clean it) so I'm at a loss as to what it might be. It's bad though. Next step is calling up Stanley Steamer or something to see if they can get it out. If that doesn't work, we may be replacing carpet soon. (Not really an expense I've factored in for just now). Ah the joys of being a homeowner. If it's not a raccoon on the roof, it's a mystery smell. (And no, I don't see how the raccoon could be causing the smell...we went up and sniffed the attic just to be sure).
Four- My hot tub is on backorder. They were going to ship one from the distribution center, but I guess this particular model is a popular one, because they're out and are now having to build mine. (At least I know that it's made just for me!) They're supposed to call me at the end of this week to tell me when it will ship. Normally I'd be mad at the delay, but I still have to get an electrician out there to run my 240v line, so it won't do me any good to have it now anyway. Maybe the electrician, the wildlife trappers, and the carpet cleaners can all just get together and have a house fixing party at one time.
Five- I had my annual checkup with my lady doctor yesterday. You'll be glad to know that I haven't lost any parts, and they all still seem to be in working order. I know some people have men "lady doctors", and I'm sure they work out just fine for you, but I'm not one of those people. I've gotta have a woman doctor. I guess it's kind of like having a mechanic. He may know the manual inside and out, but unless he's actually owned a car at some point, he's not touching mine. And call me picky, but if you're planning on diving in up to your elbow in someone else's hoo-ha, you best be able to at least commiserate.
Six- Speaking of the lady doctor, is it just me, or does everyone else hide their underwear at the bottom of the clothes pile when they're changing into that paper gown? Can't have the doctor seeing my underwear. Oh no...she may be poking around at all kinds of personal places down there, but to see my underwear? THAT would just be embarrassing!
Update: Living room smell has been resolved. My super wonderful hubby got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed the entire area again until the smell went away. (We think the milk spilled further than we thought, so he cleaned a HUGE area, just to be sure). And now the smell is no more! Isn't he just super wonderful?
One- So the grades have come back for my thesis dissertation, and I have an A! (Okay, technically an A-, but let's not get caught up in all the pluses and minuses...an A is an A!) Woot! Throw your hands in the air! And wave 'em like you just don't care! This calls for a celebration! Preferably in the form of brownies! Or more Rice Crispy Treats, because I made short work of the ones from the wedding party.
Two- Speaking of marshmallowy goodness...the raccoon wins. We give up. We have been outsmarted by an oversized rodent. The traps have been on the roof for more than a week, and the raccoon just isn't biting. So we're taking the traps down, sealing up the spots where he is getting in, and just keeping our fingers crossed that coming home to find the locks changed will be enough incentive to move on as opposed to say, ripping a new opening into the roof. More fingers are crossed that he won't be in the attic when Trapper Joe comes to seal it up. (He's very good at hiding, our genius raccoon). I guess we'll know soon enough if we hear lots of banging and crashing noises overhead after the holes are closed up.
Three- In other fun homeowner news, there's a mystery smell in the living room. I swear it's mildew, like the carpet got wet (which it did when I scrubbed it trying to get out the mystery smell), but I have no idea why it would still be lingering. Tony thought it originated when the cat knocked over a glass of milk and he put the SpotBot on it (if you don't have one of these- get one! They are lifesavers!) but that should have stopped the smell, and since then, it's only gotten stronger. It's in one corner of the living room, and nothing looks or feels wet (with the exception of when we try to clean it) so I'm at a loss as to what it might be. It's bad though. Next step is calling up Stanley Steamer or something to see if they can get it out. If that doesn't work, we may be replacing carpet soon. (Not really an expense I've factored in for just now). Ah the joys of being a homeowner. If it's not a raccoon on the roof, it's a mystery smell. (And no, I don't see how the raccoon could be causing the smell...we went up and sniffed the attic just to be sure).
Four- My hot tub is on backorder. They were going to ship one from the distribution center, but I guess this particular model is a popular one, because they're out and are now having to build mine. (At least I know that it's made just for me!) They're supposed to call me at the end of this week to tell me when it will ship. Normally I'd be mad at the delay, but I still have to get an electrician out there to run my 240v line, so it won't do me any good to have it now anyway. Maybe the electrician, the wildlife trappers, and the carpet cleaners can all just get together and have a house fixing party at one time.
Five- I had my annual checkup with my lady doctor yesterday. You'll be glad to know that I haven't lost any parts, and they all still seem to be in working order. I know some people have men "lady doctors", and I'm sure they work out just fine for you, but I'm not one of those people. I've gotta have a woman doctor. I guess it's kind of like having a mechanic. He may know the manual inside and out, but unless he's actually owned a car at some point, he's not touching mine. And call me picky, but if you're planning on diving in up to your elbow in someone else's hoo-ha, you best be able to at least commiserate.
Six- Speaking of the lady doctor, is it just me, or does everyone else hide their underwear at the bottom of the clothes pile when they're changing into that paper gown? Can't have the doctor seeing my underwear. Oh no...she may be poking around at all kinds of personal places down there, but to see my underwear? THAT would just be embarrassing!
Update: Living room smell has been resolved. My super wonderful hubby got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed the entire area again until the smell went away. (We think the milk spilled further than we thought, so he cleaned a HUGE area, just to be sure). And now the smell is no more! Isn't he just super wonderful?
5/5/08
The Wedding
Tony's sister got married this weekend! Some pictures from the beautiful wedding...
The bride (who will kill me once she sees this picture on here!)
Walking down the aisle with Dad...
The bridesmaids.
The bride and groom.
The happy brother (and sister-in-law).
The bride (who will kill me once she sees this picture on here!)Walking down the aisle with Dad...
The bridesmaids.
The bride and groom.The happy brother (and sister-in-law).
5/1/08
Raccoon 2, Humans 0
It's day 4 of having our roof littered with raccoon traps, and guess what? NO RACCOON! I know he's up there. I hear him moving around. He just will not go into the traps! He's mocking us!
Maybe he doesn't like marshmallows. Maybe he's watching his girlish figure. Maybe he is not swayed by the fact that I broke down and am now scarfing marshmallows like they are going out of style even though I have to be in a wedding on Saturday and this bridesmaid dress does not allow for any more marshmallow-induced poundage. (I would claim that I'm just eating the marshmallows to entice the raccoon to do the same, but who am I kidding? An oversized attic-crashing wild animal has more will power against marshmallows than I do. It's just sad I tell you).
The guy who put the traps out for us, Trapper Joe (we had to find a new guy after Trapper Dan fell off the roof and then refused to come back out to our house), called last night to check on things. "No raccoon?" he asked incredulously after we told him that the traps were empty. "Are you sure?" Yes Trapper Joe. I think I would have noticed a 30lb animal sitting in a wire box, raising cane on my roof for all the world (and wedding party guests) to hear. "Hmmm", says Trapper Joe, "Crafty little devil". Thank you Trapper Joe. Perhaps you can lure him into the box by doing a swan dive off the roof...he seemed to enjoy it when Trapper Dan did it.
Trapper Joe wonders whether our particular house guest is a repeat offender and has been caught before. If so, he may realize that bad things happen when he pops that innocent looking marshmallow into his mouth. (A lesson I am still trying to grasp). If he's been previously incarcerated and someone just drove him over to my neighborhood to release him, then he'll know how the traps work and to avoid them. Faaaaabulous. Not only did the only raccoon in a 20 mile radius decide that he just HAD to live in our attic, but he's also a genius raccoon. Maybe I can convince him to balance my checkbook while he's staying with us.
To recap: Ugly cages on my roof, wedding party tonight, out of town guests staying with us, raccoon still running amok and refusing to be caught by the trap. And a perfectly good marshmallow sitting up there, not being eaten by anyone.
It's enough to drive a person to OD on puffed sugary goodness. Do you think the raccoon would mind if I took his?
Maybe he doesn't like marshmallows. Maybe he's watching his girlish figure. Maybe he is not swayed by the fact that I broke down and am now scarfing marshmallows like they are going out of style even though I have to be in a wedding on Saturday and this bridesmaid dress does not allow for any more marshmallow-induced poundage. (I would claim that I'm just eating the marshmallows to entice the raccoon to do the same, but who am I kidding? An oversized attic-crashing wild animal has more will power against marshmallows than I do. It's just sad I tell you).
The guy who put the traps out for us, Trapper Joe (we had to find a new guy after Trapper Dan fell off the roof and then refused to come back out to our house), called last night to check on things. "No raccoon?" he asked incredulously after we told him that the traps were empty. "Are you sure?" Yes Trapper Joe. I think I would have noticed a 30lb animal sitting in a wire box, raising cane on my roof for all the world (and wedding party guests) to hear. "Hmmm", says Trapper Joe, "Crafty little devil". Thank you Trapper Joe. Perhaps you can lure him into the box by doing a swan dive off the roof...he seemed to enjoy it when Trapper Dan did it.
Trapper Joe wonders whether our particular house guest is a repeat offender and has been caught before. If so, he may realize that bad things happen when he pops that innocent looking marshmallow into his mouth. (A lesson I am still trying to grasp). If he's been previously incarcerated and someone just drove him over to my neighborhood to release him, then he'll know how the traps work and to avoid them. Faaaaabulous. Not only did the only raccoon in a 20 mile radius decide that he just HAD to live in our attic, but he's also a genius raccoon. Maybe I can convince him to balance my checkbook while he's staying with us.
To recap: Ugly cages on my roof, wedding party tonight, out of town guests staying with us, raccoon still running amok and refusing to be caught by the trap. And a perfectly good marshmallow sitting up there, not being eaten by anyone.
It's enough to drive a person to OD on puffed sugary goodness. Do you think the raccoon would mind if I took his?