Curious Squirrel Boogie

As I was getting my nearly 1/2 gallon plastic cup of ice water assembled, I noticed I had a spectator. My glance up from the sink revealed a tail end of a squirrel trying to seek shelter from his extreme curiosity.

I set my water down before committing to do whatever it took to get the squirrel out of our yard. Since he was not as certain of this eventuality as I was, we did go back and forth a bit. As I opened the back door to the porch, he was already moving along the brick-wide “path” that easily lent itself to his exclusive travel. My initial leap out of the door caused him to move toward the next patio (near the inner tube) to see if I was serious in fulfilling my pledge. As I expected this pause, I followed him along the white line, as shown above, and beyond.

After clearing the yard, he was able to move back into his comfort zone. He quickly climbed a small tree to gain the fence. After followed the fence to the tree, he parked on the backside of the tree feeling confident I would assume he went up to the nest above. (There must be some territorial thing with squirrels. In the tree he was using as temporary shelter, there are a couple of squirrel nest above. I have yet to see any squirrel gangs in our neighborhood OR yard, but that does not mean the “Acorns” and the “Oaks” don’t have a deep feud both gangs have forgotten the origin of.) After a couple of rounds of peek-a-boo as I poked my head around both sides of the back of the tree, he knew he needed to boogie out of town pretty quickly.

He dropped to the ground and ran into the neighbors yard through the plank that was on strike in our shared fence. (Since we have the “pretty” side of the fence, we are told the responsibility for fixing/replacing the fence largely falls upon us.) I probably grunted or yelled or performed some sort of rodent impression as he made his final dash.

This was not my first bout with these over-abundant nut lovers. There was a time over 3 years ago when our house served as the battle ground for “Squirrel Wars”. The emotional scars are still healing! We still feel violated and dirty whenever we go into our upper attic…..

Conscientious Longhorn

Of course, it was imagined! And, of course, I couldn’t understand a longhorn if he (generic he – both genders of longhorns have horns ) tried to communicate with me. But, after getting this picture, I was certain I heard the wind or some sort of moo-lish communication expressing this concern, “Do my horns make my hips look big?”

After having been in more than one discussion with my wife (who does NOT have horns), I have learned any answer relating to this line of questioning needs to be handled delicately. I suppose my answer would be in the form of a question, “You have hips? Your horns are so beautiful I hadn’t noticed!”

If my wife did have horns, she would probably make a great cow. And, if she were still my wife, I probably had an odd childhood….

Kimchi Suicide

As we enjoyed another meal from our exchange students (it has been awhile between family visits and Thanksgiving and overall busyness), we had a healthy discussion around the table. My youngest daughter was overnighting with a friend (she would appreciate us saving her some of the curry chicken w/ carrots and potatoes and the soup with squash, tofu and a few baby shrimps in the soy based broth.), so she missed the fun.

Since this meal was made by our Chinese student (our other student volunteered to help as well as myself), it did take a little time to pull together after school. Maybe it was hunger that loosened our lips more than usual. Whatever it was, we had a laugh (for our Korean student) and a tear (for our Chinese student) before the meal was over.

Our Chinese student had worked so hard to prepare Chinese pancakes for the International food day at school a couple of weeks ago. The night before, she spent over 2 hours in the kitchen preparing and cooking the egg/flour batter. She attempted to fry them into near perfect, untorn pancakes for people at school to try. Because of her desire for perfection and her need to make sure there was ample pancakes for all, she made nearly 20 of them–each done individually in our small, cast iron frying pan. I was a little concerned about the texture of the pancakes when they arrived at school the next day. When the sampling began at school, this was the one story she told….

EX (Chinese exchange student): I am so happy you like the meal I made tonight. The last time I cooked they did not like it.
US: What are you talking about?
EX: (Her English is very good, but my retelling is certainly not exact.) When I took the Chinese pancakes to school, not everyone liked them. I was okay they did not like them, but one person really hurt my feelings! She tried my pancakes and told me she liked them. When I saw her a little later, I heard her tell someone, “I will never eat Chinese pancakes again. They tasted awful.” She (since it is a small school, my daughter could not help but guess which person at the school was rude enough to say something like this) saw me and knew I heard her. She lowered her head, and she walked away embarrassed.
Daughter: I am sorry about that. That person is not a very nice person. I would not worry about it.
EX: Again, I am so happy you liked the food I made for dinner. When she said that, it really hurt my confidence. (Her smile is covering her whole face.)

After a meal cooked by our Chinese student, we had a little discussion about what our Korean student might next cook. Since kimchi is a such an important part of a Korean meal, we do have half of a jar sitting in the refrigerator. In Korea, they have refrigerators for ONLY their kimchi. Not having that luxury, the kimchi has to share its surroundings with our other “American” items. The first jar of kimchi was able to participate in two meals while the remainder of the jars contents met an untimely end….

Me: What is [our Korean student] going to cook for us next? The last jar of kimchi decided to commit suicide rather than let [Korean student] make another meal with it! (Our Chinese student gets quite a laugh out of this comment. She seems to really appreciate my wit–or whatever it is called.)
EX (this time our Korean student): Yes, I do not know what happened to it. It turned green and even for kimchi, it did not smell good.
Me: Maybe we need to go back to the classic Korean Barbecue.
EX: Yes, we could make our own barbecue sauce with pears and other fruits.
Daughter: I really liked what we got out of the store bought jar.
EX: We would include the same things in our sauce they include in the bottled sauce…

And, so it went. We will likely have Korean cooking again with either kimchi or barbecue or both. We will likely have more Chinese variations on some already cooked meals. And, we will likely look back at many moments during this school year with our exchange students and realize how much we miss them, and the year we shared our lives together. Maybe the food around the table was not always our favorite, but if the food is shared with some of your favorite people, then you are blessed–no matter what country you are in!

Knuckle Grapes

A visit to Sam’s brought a new 3 pound container of green grapes into the house. While not all past vine dwellers were as welcome, I am happy to say my daughter picked very well today. The texture gave slight resistance and the skin was just the right firm. The only thing slightly wrong with them was their size! Most of the grapes were as large as the top half of my thumb! As we ate some of them with lunch, the smaller mouthed individuals made each grape last for 2 or 3 bites before the grape was fully consumed.

After lunch, my son decided to participate in a game we occasionally do to assist in father-son bonding. Usually the game consists of tossing M&Ms into the air on an arc toward his head. If I do my job correctly, a couple small neck adjustments will allow the M&M to easily be caught in his mouth. Because we apparently needed to do some “power bonding”, we attempted the M&M trick with these over-sized, under-seeded fruit ovals. My sons skills were quickly evident. He adjusted how far he opened his mouth (he had to open it ALL of the way), but otherwise, it was the same eye-mouth coordination as before. The first two grapes followed this pattern. He zeroed in on the grape, caught it in his mouth, and he was careful not to choke on the green projectile.

Although I did not consciously want to “mix it up”, my sub-conscious was likely a little bored. The third grape did embark on an arc just like the other grapes, but as it knuckle balled (my fingers planned this without my realizing it) toward my sons mouth, it ended up being to great of a challenge-the “center” of the grape was to hard to calculate . It smacked him in his upper lip as his mouth was anticipating the impact. We did allow a “knuckle-less grape” do over which was much more successful.

While fruit does not always bring people together, I am glad my son and I can “rework” old games with grapes as a centerpiece. I have not always been a perfect father, but on the days when I “know” I have done a pretty good job, it usually involves a bit of laughter and a dash of ridiculous.

Walking Disaster

Both my wife and I were working from home today. Her day is usually filled with meetings, but sometimes, as in today, she gets an hour or so gap. Today, she had a 1 1/2 hour gap between meetings, so we knew we could take on virtually anything our construction-laden walk might throw at us. Our confusion with a solar powered sign announcing “Expect Delays” over the past week led to our downfall…..

Our normal (this is normal since about 3 -4 weeks ago) walk takes us on the new paths completed by our city, through a couple of neighborhood, beside a couple of softball fields as we wind through a park, along a well-shaded train track and down a non-sidewalked road with fairly low traffic. We were aware the beginning part of our path might have an obstacle, so we were not surprised when within the first 10 minutes we had to backtrack. As we navigated some unfamiliar streets to get to the main road, we chose to go toward a possible rendezvous point with our “normal walk” at a point south of the construction zone.

Me: You certainly do appreciate sidewalks when you don’t have them.
Wife: I knew there was no sidewalks here. The traffic is much louder off of the main road.
Me: All of the noise saves you from engaging in frivolous conversations with your husband. (I have to say this while turning my head because of the extreme noise coming off of the cars speeding by.)
Wife: You are not frivolous. You are the most serious walker I know.

After enduring the noise and near conversation vacuum, we made a right to pick up our “normal trail”. We cursed our luck as we could nearly see the northern point of the path closure. (Throwing gravel at the southern point seemed juvenile. It was only this fact that prevented me from acting on my whim.) As we rejoined our path, we checked our time. We both felt confident my wife could still make her conference call. Due to familiarity, our legs went into auto-pilot. Our conversation was sparse but consistent until we came to the point where we left the railroad tracks behind and headed north. I suppose we were grateful the “Road Closed” sign and related paraphernalia was visible from the tracks. However, the “returning home in time for the conference call” issue was now seriously in question. My wife chose to continue west rather than bungying back home.

Knowing we needed to push ourselves, I became the pace mule. Conversation was more scant than before as we seldom walked side by side. I continued to try and maintain a good pace whether we were within talking-range or a few yards apart. As the sidewalk ended and we began heading north again, we rapidly passed businesses and woods while sidewalk were available, but mostly optional. (The recently expired fox was a slight distraction.) Eventually, we were able to go briefly east and catch a side road that also went north. The sidewalk were consistent and we were close enough together to comment on some of the “over the top” Christmas light displays. As we neared a “branch” that would allow us to reattach to our “normal path”, the clock became an even bigger enemy.

My wife cut all corners possible. The neighborhood did not allow for much “corner-cutting”. She saved all of the cutting for the park. She hopped guard rails and ignored barriers that would have previously limited our path on normal days. (We had to go cross country at the park because of another construction zone. Our desired path was right on the other side of equipment and a large pile of broken concrete, dirt, and recently sacrificed flora.) As we rounded a corner and came upon the playground area, a young couple who were walking their dog parted after apparently having their innocent kiss now classifed as “PDA” due to our appearaance.

As we again were able to place our feet on our elusive “normal” path, we noted how my wife would be about 10 minutes late for her meeting. Her 10 minute delay was not wasted. All of our winding and pushing and navigating resulted in a walk totaling 5 – 6 miles. It was not the first time we had taken a walk of this length. Fortunately, it was a rather cool day, or the walking disaster would also have been a dehydration nightmare!

Maturity Regression

After my youngest son graduated from high school in the spring, he had a great summer of semi-transitioning into adulthood. He worked many hours at Chick-Fil-A, and he was a responsible social creature. He did stay up too late more nights than not, but he did seem to be on a declining video game schedule.

When he started at college in the fall (really not even late summer), he seemed to find his college stride. He only visited home a couple of times. He complained about the food in the cafeteria almost every chance he could. He had a couple of missteps with his assignments and with the colleges curfew policy, but despite his frustration, he worked to resolve the problems in a mature way with only enough pain to remind him not to do it the next time. He got involved in extracurricular activities which limited his opportunity to make bad decisions. In summary, he spared us the challenge of helping him solve problems from 3 1/2 hours away.

Unfortunately, while he was home for Thanksgiving, I realized there was still quite a bit of boy in there. Two days before he was coming home, he called me asking if I would transfer money from his saving to his checking account. He wanted to pull money out of an ATM to buy someone’s lightly used Nintendo DS (newest model I think). Since he had been good this quarter, I agreed. After he got home, he seemed to spend a good bit of his time with his computer. He was playing RuneScape. (He did do other social things, but I rapidly was becoming convinced he was not letting the influence of the other students in the honor dorm break him of all of his habits.) Lastly, him and his brother went out and did some “Black Thanksgiving” shopping Thursday night. He did buy some Christmas gifts for others, but he also purchased himself a new game. And, he went to GameStop on Black Friday and bought even more stuff.

As I look back, I can’t help but believe this bit of regression is rather normal. After taking almost exclusive responsibility for himself AND his laundry for a few months, it is so easy to fall into your old behaviors. Although we would likely still recognize his more mature self, it is comforting to see him regress just a little bit. And, as much as I would like to see the mature young man who calls us about once a week from school, all regressing is acceptable….as long as the report card confirms he is as mature as we think!

Population Reduction Therapy

I know most people really love flies! They love to have them flying around touching their food, making false kamikaze dives at their head and being the life of the party. As fall has arrived and the temperatures have dropped, I have found therapy in reducing the fly population by at least a few in a very hands on way.

As the above picture indicates, I executed a fly in my rather cluttered workspace. I calculated a “clap” just an inch or so above his home. (I am not aware of flies having true homes. In my understanding, a flies home is where he plants his feet and extends his antennae.) If improperly calculated, my “clap” will knock something down or one hand will ricochet off of some object determined to delay my justice. However, when properly executed, this maneuver allows for the flies habit of hopping up slightly before turning on the “gas” and taking flight. If the “clap” is completed but the fly is too nimble, I usually give myself a very red hand. (Due to my excesses of youth, I did hear of a fly research facility studying alternate “take off” techniques.”

It is almost unfair to mention a couple of flies I have also killed recently. They thought they hit the jackpot when they were left in the refrigerator. However, after their extended stay at the chilled buffet, not only were their bellies full (everything was covered, so it is not like our food was bait for my killing spree), but their movements were very lethargic. I easily claimed a couple of victims–victims that would not have photographed nearly as well as my desktop accomplishment.

Since my wife and I both share a strong dislike for the buzzing that apparently is in a flies job description, it is hard not to hold a grudge against these buzzing machines. (Their rules for life seem to be “buzzing and ‘make yourself comfortable’ wherever you may be”.) My wife appreciates me volunteering to do the “wetwork” involved in purging our household of these very uninvited guest. And, I have been remorseful for a number of things in my life, but fly eradication is not one of them!

Interviewing New Neighbors

Once you live in a neighborhood long enough, the “For Sale” signs are bound to go up. The person across the street sold over a year ago. And, this weekend we have another neighbor moving out. We are jockeying for parking space in front of our house while trying to discourage parking in front of our mailbox until after the little white truck w/ the nice Jamaican postal worker deposits our letters and catalogs.

Fortunately, we are not completely concerned about our new neighbors. You see, we have interviewed them already. It was not completely intentional. When things are very deliberate, they are often not as insightful. As my son and I came back from a walk (I believe it was a Sunday afternoon), there were 2 or 3 cars in front of the neighbors house. At the time, I thought I met the husband, wife, grandmother and the 3 kids that were a part of the family we would soon call neighbors. The most notable fact I collected was they had a daughter who was an 8th grader. (My daughters are 8th and 9th) I went home and spread this fact to my daughters. They replied with, “I hope she likes playing outdoors and crafts.”

Later that week, we were standing in a line to deal with a small issue in court. As the line moved slowly and lawyers were able to cut to the front of the line to hasten their passage through the metal detector, the line had a couple of curls in it. While one of the curls brushed against our part of the line, this conversation followed…

Linewoman: Haven’t we met you before?
Me: If you are going to be our new neighbors on Cattle Prod (not its real name) street, we have!
Linewoman: We are excited to move into the neighborhood! We like the location, and it was just time to get a larger house! (the line started to move again) We can talk more inside.

Once inside, we both had our separate issues to get resolved. Our attorney quickly worked through our issue. As we were walking out, I tapped our would-be new neighbor, and said, “We will have something to talk about at our first cookout.”

This morning, the neighbor who is moving out dropped by and dropped off the key we let him have just “in case”. Our conversation went something like this…..

Neighbor: Well, today is the day. I hope the trucks don’t get in your way, but tonight will be our last night in the house. I hope we have been a good neighbor!
Me: You sure have! We have had issues with the neighbor on the other side and the one across the street before they moved out. You have been nothing but a help whether it was the pool pump or any other issue. I thank you for that! Have you met the person who is moving in?
Neighbor: My wife has. She thought it was a mother and a couple of kids. She thought they seemed nice.
Me: One Sunday afternoon, I met them. I thought the mother had a husband. I guess we will find out soon.
Neighbor: Yes, the close date has been pushed back. We have sold to the relocation company, but I think the house will sit empty a week or so before they move in.
Me: Better go supervise their packing. If things are going into storage before you find a house, you don’t want any problems when you open the cartons in Connecticut. (He told me the headhunter was so surprised someone would want to leave Texas and move to New England.) You have been a good neighbor, and I thank you for it! Best of luck to you and your wife!
Neighbor: Thanks, Andy! Have a great Christmas.

As our best neighbor leaves, we are very hopeful the new neighbor does not disappoint the expectations developed through the interviewing process. As little influence as we had on the final decision of who would move in next door, we are truly hopeful the minimum expectations are met. We have had enough car dings and bipolar mood swings out of our neighbors. Just give us a family (any of the definitions of family apply even if somewhere on the LGBT spectrum) with a couple of kids (preferable one within a couple of years of my daughters) who have minimum distinguishing features (this includes tattoos, piercings, and/or clothes or hair styles) but with a desire to try and be a good neighbor, and we will be fine.

Your Neighbor May Not Be Very Nice If…

Although these may look like an innocent pile of leaves, they really are not. And, if you are curious, they are not some random swirling of leaves who all decided to congregate at approximately the same place. We are pretty sure it is a plot crafted by our neighbors to get back at us for something beyond our control….

When we bought the house almost 5 years ago, both our neighbors and us had swimming pools. As an additional bonus, we had an elm tree hanging over our pool. It ALSO hung over our neighbors pool and our back fence. When we moved in, the tree was well established. It is not a mutant tree we bought from a catalog nor is it a tree that has benefited from any type of dark magic. It is simply a tree with natural tree-like tendencies. And, when it gets close to winter time (commonly referred to as autumn or fall), the leaves fall off of the tree. They are not vindictive. They do not follow bizarre whims or mystical vortexes that propel them into places other than where God intends for them to go. Sometimes it is windy, and sometimes it is not. Once the tree decides it is done with its foliage, it is a VERY random thing. Sometimes the randomness of these actions will allow these leaves to fall into someones pool. And, if your neighbor has a big tree with lots of foliage, it would seem almost impossible to believe all leaves would avoid your yard/pool entirely. When these random leaves arrive in someone’s pool, it is likely they will float (or sink) and arrive in the pool’s skimmer. Once in the skimmer, the leaves are all packed into a little basket until the faithful owner arrives to take the basket to the garbage or compost pile or….

Now, back to our picture…Just to the right of the leaf piles, we have our property line. (It does not follow the driveway, but it is just to the right.) It is our contention our neighbor chooses to dump his skimmer basket in his front yard just to the left of the property line. It is also our belief that our neighbor hopes the wind blows the leaves into our yard. And, if he is really fortunate and cheers the leaves on really loudly, he might be rewarded by some of the leaves he rescued from the skimmer arriving in our garage! (In the spring/late-winter when the same tree drops lots of seeds, we also find similar piles of seeds in the front yard.)

The same neighbor has been known to mow our thin strip of grass to the left of our driveway, so I am trying to remember this as I fail to find any rational way to explain his “skimmer-dumping” habit. I usually have to satisfy myself with thinking it is their teenage son who has become frustrated doing the extra pool maintenance. In his teenage mind full of distortions and perceived unfairness, the dumping of the skimmer trash on the edge of our yard is the only fair way to resolve the incredible misfortune he has been forced to endure.

In other ways, the neighbor is completely fine. He does wave or engage in brief conversations if we are both out at the same time. (I have been known to wait a little longer in the house before going outside to give him time to leave. Their driveway is on the other side of the house, so this is not a very frequent phenomenon.) While realizing I am not a perfect neighbor, I will have to be content “hoping” he treats his other neighbor better than he treats us. If the worst he is going to give me is something biodegradable, I will be grateful. And, if the worst I give him is a little bit of a tongue lashing via a blog, then maybe we are about even…

Kind Of Parallel Lives

As I was entertaining a toddler today with hand gestures at Panera while his mother and grandmother were chatting , I got an chance to strike up a conversation with his grandmother. Even though the conversation with “Granny” was brief while mom was in the bathroom changing juniors diaper, we found out we had quite a few things in common.

Me: How many grandchildren do you have? (asked while she was clearing off the table and depositing everything in the trash can just to the left of my table.)
Granny: I have 3. Two in Florida and one here with one more on the way. We had two kids of our own..
Me: We have 4 kids. Two of each. Fourteen months between the boys and 16 months between the girls. (Her daughter who was in the bathroom was pregnant with #2-18 months between her kids.) Right now, we also have 2 exchange kids.
Granny: When the kids were younger, we had 7 exchange students. Four from Germany; 1 from Switzerland; 1 from Finland, and 1 from Chile.
Me: I am sure there was quite a contrast between the European and South American exchange students! In the past we also did foster care. (I don’t know if I was trying to “top” her accomplishments or not, but I did seem to want to find an area where I had exceeded their families desire to “do good”.)
Granny: We adopted a sibling group of 3. The oldest two moved out when they turned 18. The youngest is still at the house. When he turns 18 in two years, he is probably going to leave too. I told him I would get him back to Pennsylvania, and then I guess I will be done with him like I am with his brother and sister.
Me.: When you told me before, you said you only had 2 kids….
Granny: Yes, I know. They just never felt the same. I adopted them at 11, 10, & 8. They just never felt the same. Jenny (who is now done with changing diapers has joined us) was 23 when we adopted them. I kept our adopted daughter from getting pregnant, and I kept our adopted son out of prison. I had higher goals, but those are the only things I really think I accomplished with them. (she pauses) When the last one leaves, we will be done.
Me: Wow, well God bless you for doing that! I know it must have been hard! My wife and I had a sibling group of 3 for awhile. We didn’t adopt them, but the family that did, watched them leave their families as soon as they graduated from high school. They packed up their things and moved to Florida with their older siblings. I hope it is something you are glad you did even though it wasn’t what you hoped for.
Daughter: (She was noticeable irritated. The adopted siblings didn’t seem like a favorite family discussion.) Okay, mom. Time to go. (Looking at her mother.) After the baby is born, I am hoping to take some hot yoga classes, will you be able to come and watch the kids while I go. Since they are 5:30 in the morning, I wanted to……

I felt sorry for the mother and daughter. I am sorry their family didn’t get the support and counseling they needed. (okay, it is hard to know everything in a brief conversation. ) And, of course, I feel sorry for the kids who were adopted and either never felt loved OR would never let themselves be loved. Also, I feel very grateful my family never went forward with any adoptions. We could have, but chose not to jump so far into the unknown. However, I am slightly jealous in a way. With all of the blessings my family has, it would seem like we have a responsibility to share them in a larger way then we presently do. Maybe the “idea” for doing sharing our blessings is just a conversation and a Panera visit away….

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy