Two Down - March 27, 2022

 

The Husband spotted Groundhog Deux multiple times this past week and made a plan to catch him come the weekend.  Friday night, he saved the carrot, pepper, and zucchini nubs and peels from dinner, and yesterday morning he baited the trap with them.  I checked the trap mid-morning.  Nothing.

Later that afternoon, I rummaged around in the kitchen for something to eat and decided on a banana.  Remembering that we'd caught the other groundhog with a rotten banana, I pinched off pieces of my banana and smashed them through the holes of the live trap.  About an hour later, as I was painting on the back porch, I heard the trap slam shut.  Sure enough, there was a big fat groundhog in the trap.  

By this time, The Husband was on the tractor, helping his cousin clean up limb debris from the recent ice storm.  As I painted on the porch, I could hear the cage rattle.  A couple of hours later, when it appeared that The Husband would likely be busy until dark, I considered it my wifely duty to haul the groundhog off, myself.  I planned to take him to the lake, where he might re-unite with his friend, George.  

The Husband had set it a couple of feet from the edge of the gully.  When I got up to begin the relocation process, the cage was teetering on the very edge.  The groundhog had rammed the door so hard, so often that he had moved the cage forward a couple of feet.  But for a rock that impeded his progress, the cage would have tumbled down the gully, groundhog and all.  And he was in there, still just a-ramming.  

I thought it wise to move the cage away from the ledge until I got ready to load it in the truck so I wouldn't have to tramp down into the gully to retrieve it.  When the groundhog heard me coming, he whirled around to face me.  I reached down to pick up the cage, and he crouched and started clacking his teeth at me.  I thought, A'int no way I'm letting this murff out of the cage by myself.  But I didn't want to leave it where it was.  Using a long stick, I scooted the cage back from the ledge.  Scared the crap out of the groundhog and me, both.  

As evening approached, I checked the cage again.  It was back on the edge of the gully.  I decided that it could roll down the hill, for all I cared; the groundhog could just spend the night in the trap instead of catching up with George.

It was dark by the time The Husband finished tractoring.  I told him about the groundhog, first thing.  He decided to haul it off right then.  He and his cousin took the groundhog for a ride to the river bottom.

When he got back, he told me that he'd seen another one up the road earlier in the afternoon.  

Wonder if it was George?

Another One - March 23, 2022

Though it is officially spring, it doesn't feel much like it around our place.  

This past weekend was windy, but warm enough to piddle around in the yard.  On one of his piddling expeditions Saturday morning, The Husband spotted another groundhog poking its head out of the hole.  He set the trap again, baiting it this time with lettuce and carrots.  We figured we'd catch the groundhog before the day was over.  The Husband said he'd call Son #1 to haul this other one off if we caught it.  (I thought, but did not say, chickensh*t.)  

Before the day was over, though, we had to go to a birthday party at Son #1's house.  Son #1's brother-in-law was there.  This brother-in-law (let's just call him "Bro" from now on, so I won't have to keep typing "brother-in-law") - Bro is an expert barbeque-r.  (He enters - and sometimes even wins or at least places - bbq contests all over the place.)  At some point during the afternoon, the subject of the groundhog catch-and-release program arose.  Bro exclaimed, "Damn!  You turned it loose?  I've been wanting to try groundhog!"  I figured he was kidding.

A discussion of the dangers of groundhog meat ensued.  Son #1 said groundhogs carry a whole bunch of diseases.  Bro said he figured 350 degrees on the grill would kill anything.

I said, "Well, there's another one, and we've already baited the trap.  He might already be in it.  If he's caught when we get home, I'll call you." 

He said he'd damn sure come get it and cook it.

There was no groundhog in the trap when we got home.  The lettuce was gone, though, and the carrots had been moved around.  Chipmunk or squirrel, probably - something lightweight enough to not spring the trap.  

We baited the trap again on Sunday.  Same thing happened; something ate the bait and evaded capture.  Being out of lettuce and carrots, we tried a raw potato.  Come dark, we still hadn't caught anything, and The Husband sprung the trap and set it aside, saying it was supposed to rain the next day, and he didn't want to deal with the groundhog in the rain, so it's still running amuck in the gully.  

If/when we finally catch it, we'll see whether or not Bro was kidding.  Either way, I'm probably never going to eat bbq at his house.

Groundhog Day - March 17, 2022

 

In the gully at the back of our yard lives - or, rather, lived - a big, fat groundhog.  

This is the same gully where, several years ago, we had TWO DUMP TRUCK LOADS of dirt and stones poured into a giant erosion that was threatening to eat our back yard.

One of the Granddaughters spied a hole in that dirt last fall, near the base of a big oak tree.  We blamed the armadillo.  Two weekends ago, while exploring the gully with her pink BB gun in hand, Granddaughter #2 yelled, "Grandmama!  I just saw an animal go in this hole!"

From the porch I yelled back, "It was probably the armadillo."

She yelled back, "It had brown FUR!"

Not the armadillo, then.  I yelled, "Well, shoot it if you see it again."  Like the BB gun would off it.  

She and her older sister (who was also armed with a BB gun) stationed themselves at the mouth of the hole.  I really preferred that they not hang out in the muddy gully, so after a while I hollered, "What are y'all going to do if that thing comes rocketing out of that hole, right in your faces?"  They scurried up the hill and put the BB guns away.    

Last weekend, I saw a brown, furry beast run across the back yard and scamper down the hill.  Groundhog, for sure.  He probably has built a network of tunnels in the expensive dirt we bought to preserve what was left of our back yard.

I told The Husband about the groundhog.  

Two nights ago, he baited the live trap with a rotten banana.

Yesterday after work, I heard a strange, rattling noise.  Sure enough, there was a groundhog in the trap, desperately trying to dig out.  I took its picture with my telephone and texted it to The Husband:  "Got him!'  

His reply:  "Oh no!!  Now what??"

After a brief round of texts (in which I thought, but did not say, "Put a bullet in him and be done"), The Husband said he would call Son #1 and get him to haul the groundhog off.  

Later that evening, Son #1 showed up with two daughters in tow.  He asked, "What do you want me to do with it?"

I said, "If you'll skin it, I'll cook it."  

The girls immediately raised a ruckus:  "Don't kill it!  It's so CUTE! Don't kill it!"  

They named it "George."

Son #1 said it wasn't a good idea to eat groundhog, said they carry dysentery and such.  We agreed that he would just haul it far, far away, and turn it loose.

Wonder how long it'll take George to get back home?

Band Concert - March 16, 2022

Last night, we watched Granddaughter #1 perform with her high school band at their last concert of the season.  The band was divided into three separate groups:  the main orchestra, a woodwind ensemble, and a jazz band.  

The gym was packed (our granddaughter, alone, had eight fans in attendance), so I wore a mask, both to protect myself and to protect those around me from this nasty cold that is still hanging on.  Our son had saved us some seats next to him and his family.  Even The Little Rotten Baby was there, migrating from lap to lap.  She had trouble recognizing me behind the mask, so when she made her way near me, I briefly pulled the mask down so that she would know who I was.  When I put the mask back in place, she reached over, hooked a tiny finger under the mask, and pulled; it shot the mask into the lap of the lady sitting in front of me.  The LRB thought this was hilarious, cackled out loud, and tried to do it again.  And again.  

The jazz band was the last act.  As they were setting up, I managed to get Granddaughter #1's attention.  Using signs and body language, I let her know that when the jazz band cranked up, Poppi and I intended to get up and dance.  She shook her head and mouthed, "Nooooooooo."  I nodded, "Yep.  We are."  

I was not familiar with the jazz band's first song, "That's Not My Dog," but well knew the next two songs, James Brown's "I Got You (I Feel Good)" and Sly & The Family Stone's "Dance to the Music."  That final number was the perfect song, eh?

As the jazz band played, every now and then, Granddaughter would glance over at us to make sure we were behaving.  When the director took the podium for "Dance to the Music," I stood up, whipped off my jacket, and flung it down on the seat beside me as if I was preparing to bust a move.  Granddaughter's eyes went wide with alarm, and she mouthed, "NOOOOOOOOOO!" again.  

Hah!  

I love messing with the grandchildren.  :)

For the record, we spared her - and ourselves - the embarrassment.

Not the way I planned it - March 13, 2022

I've always wanted to learn to paint with watercolors.  Since I expected to have some days off from work this past week, I ordered paint, paintbrushes, and watercolor paper, and saved a list of how-to videos that looked promising.  Everything was set to go for Tuesday morning, my first day off.

If you've read last week's posts, you already know that most of my "free" time was spent fooling with Aunt Melvie's "treasures."  Although I went to the office for a little while on Friday, most of that day was spent loading and hauling away and unloading the last of the furniture in Melvie's apartment.  It was COLD and blustery, and all that time in the cold wind made my throat and ears hurt again.  

Come Saturday, I was planning to stay in my warm jammies all day, watching the videos I'd saved, and maybe get in a little painting time.  That didn't happen, for about 10 a.m., my daughter-in-law called, wanting to make some t-shirts for her kids to wear on St. Patrick's Day.  I told her to come on over, and we spent the rest of the day working on the shirts.

But this morning -

This morning I was sure that I'd have all day to explore watercolor painting.  Alas, about 9:30, Granddaughter #1 sent a text; she needed a dress and some shoes for her band's spring concert.  A day at the mall?  Lovely.  (I hate shopping.)  I got dressed and went to get her and Granddaughter #2.  We shopped and shopped.  I am exhausted.

But it was good to hang out with the ladies today.  They are such sweet girls.  And the best part was that when I walked in their house, the Little Rotten Baby ran to me, holding up her arms to be picked up, and she blew me kisses when I left.  

It made my day.  

Mission Accomplished - March 11, 2022

Yesterday morning, I headed out in the truck loaded with Melvie's collections.  I thought the antique mall opened at 10, but I was wrong; the sign on the door said 11.  An hour was just enough time to drive home, pee, and drive back.  But since I didn't need to pee, I stayed put.  11 came and went.  I called.  No answer.  I sent a text.  It came back undelivered.  Finally, about 11:30, one of the owners rolled up and let me inside.  She was supposed to have cleaned out a place for Melvie's stuff but hadn't gotten around to it.  While I brought in boxes, she cleared the area.  Even with the stuff already priced, it took two hours to unpack everything for display.  There was just enough room for everything.

Thirty copper music boxes shaped like barns and windmills and dump trucks and out-houses and . . . .  

A collection of "Dolls of the Month", plus more music boxes.

Musical dolls, more music boxes.  Those creepy, gyrating clown music boxes are on top.

When I came home, I tried out the new bread machine that had been delivered the previous day.  It has been my dream to bake an edible loaf of home-made whole wheat bread.  Over the years, I've tried many times, but my only success had come from a box.  This time, I was determined to produce a perfect loaf.  I exactly followed the recipe that came with the machine.

It didn't happen.  

For a short while, it looked promising.  The bread rose nicely.  It smelled heavenly.  But somewhere near the end of the process, the edges of the bread stuck to the bucket while the center sank.  The result was a dense loaf with a crisp-edged crater in the center.  PLUS the paddle that kneads the bread got baked into the loaf, and I had to dig it out with a tool that came with the machine.

We ate a slice for dinner.  It tasted okay, but it was mighty chewy.

I might try again today since I have more flour and yeast.

  

Absent-mindedness - March 10, 2022

My absent-mindedness is a handicap, not only to me, but to The Husband.

Case on point:

The Husband and I planned to swap vehicles this morning.  When it came time for him to leave for work, we could not find the keys to my car, and we do not have an extra key.  We spent 30 minutes tearing this house apart looking for them.  He finally found them in the space between the left rear passenger door and the back seat of my car.  

It is at times like these when I am glad that The Husband is a patient person.  Having lived with me for 42 years, he knows these things happen from time to time.  Other men might have railed at their wives this morning for not putting things back where they belong, but The Husband just patiently helped me search.

In all fairness, it wasn't entirely my fault.

You see, I generally function by being a creature of habit.  Come home, dump my stuff in a chair, go potty, etc.  But yesterday was an unusual day, and I did things in an unfamiliar order.  Since The Boss has gone to a work-related conference this week, I took some time off from work to handle the problem of disposing of Aunt Melvie's "treasures."  Tuesday, I donated a lawn bag (plus an armload) full of jigsaw puzzles to a senior center, then I rented some booth space in an antique mall, where I hope to sell the rest of the stuff for The Rest of The Aunts.  In the middle of that, I stopped to pick up a grocery order.  Yesterday was to be spent looking up values and pricing each item.  

Around here, the problem with taking off from work is that when folks find out I'm home, they come up with things for me to do.

Between Tuesday evening and yesterday morning, Nanny asked me to drive her to a doctor appointment in Memphis (since I'm off work, you know).  I could not turn her down.  On the way home, both of us had some errors to run.  We got home around 3 p.m.  We briefly stopped by my house to pick up some lettuce I'd promised to give to Nanny.  (This is when I unlocked the front door.)  Before taking her home, I stopped at the end of her long driveway to hitch her garbage can to the back of my car so we could drag it home.  At her house, I dumped rainwater out of the garbage can and put it where it goes, then I came back home.

I was seriously close to peeing my pants.

But before I'd picked up Nanny that morning, I'd stopped by our mailbox.  It was crammed full.  I took it out of the box and pitched it into the back seat of my car.  While Nanny was seeing the doctor, I sorted through the mail and returned it to the back seat.  It was all over the place when I got home.  I gathered it up (this is where I dropped the keys to free my hands) and raced into the house to pee.  

If I had not stopped to get the lettuce, this key predicament would never have happened.  I'd have had all of my usual stuff in my hands when I unlocked the front door, and we could have found my keys immediately.

So it's the lettuce's fault.  Or Walmart's fault for sending me so much lettuce that I needed to share it with someone to keep it from going bad.

* * * * * * * * * 

I am now waiting on 10 a.m., which is the time that the antique mall opens.  They are supposed to have some shelf space cleared for Melvie's stuff.  Everything is priced and packed in The Husband's truck.  Having gone through it all last night, I am worried that there won't be enough room for everything.  Melvie collected music boxes and dolls.  She must've had 20 copper music boxes shaped like trucks, helicopters, carousels, etc.  She had porcelain music boxes, and musical dolls and souvenir plates.  She had some creepy, sad-faced jester/clown music boxes that gyrate a little bit when the music plays.  (I'd smash them with a hammer if she'd left them to me.)  I did not find anything particularly valuable (though there was brief hope about a baseball card collection), but the combined value of the little stuff might be enough to help Melvie's sisters pay their electric bills.

Melvie would approve, I think.

 It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . . .

Oh, wait...I think that one's taken .  ;)

But it somehow fits as a description of the past few days.

My last post told you that I went to the doctor about my old, arthritic knee.  And probably in the one before that I mentioned being sick with the crud (not THE crud, "just" a cold).  So I was pretty much jacked-up from head to knee.  The knee has been bothering me since October, the cold for two weeks.

Anyway.

The doctor wanted to administer a steroid shot to the knee.  Geez, the very THOUGHT of that.  So I said, "Doc, can't I just take an oral steroid?  It would help this cough, too."  He consented to calling in a prescription.  And it's working!  For both problems!  Yay!

On the way home from the doctor's office, while driving in that crazy Memphis traffic, my son called to ask if The Granddaughters could spend the night.  "Of course, they can!"  I was all excited.

I had completely forgotten about the plan for the coming weekend.

You see, Nanny's sister ("Melvie") died last week.  Nobody saw it coming.  When her sisters couldn't raise her on the telephone, Nanny went to check on her in person.  Aunt Melvie had died sitting upright on the couch.  She lived alone in a small apartment that was crammed with her collections.  This weekend we were supposed to begin emptying the space.  The Husband, his sister, and some cousins had agreed to meet at the apartment Saturday morning to box up her possessions.  

I felt bad for crapping out on the boxing job in favor of hanging with The Granddaughters, but not bad enough to call off the sleep-over.  The girls and I had a leisurely morning, breakfasting and crafting, then we went to see the new Spiderman movie.  (It was LONG!)  After the movie, though, I joined the workers at the apartment.  We worked all evening, then went back yesterday to organize the boxes.  We distributed food, clothing, and other things among the neighbors and brought some personal items home for Melvie's sisters to go through.  There is still much to get rid of.  But it was good to see the cousins.

This endeavor taught me a lesson.  Although I am not the packrat that Melvie was, there's a lot of stuff in this house that needs to GO so that our children don't have to deal with it when we're gone.  I shall be working on that in the coming weeks. 

 

March 4, 2022

OMG...somebody pour me a drink!

I just drove in Memphis.

I'd sooner take a beating as go to Memphis.  The traffic unnerves me.  But I had to go today to see a doctor about my knee, and while I was in the neighborhood I visited with my sister.  It was about 3 p.m. by the time I hit the main roads on the way home.  The route required navigating a short leg of I-240.  At one point, when I was doing 60, a car whizzed by me doing about 80.  Thirty seconds later, another car - a low, growling Mazerati, or something - shot by me doing at least 100.  The down-draft actually rocked my car.  It won't surprise me if there's evening news of a fatal crash on the interstate.  

The doctor said my knee is old and arthritic.  

Lovely.