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Posts Tagged ‘suburban wildlife’

We went on a little vacation over the long Independence Day weekend. And my in-laws are in town. And I’ve been dealing with Assorted Birthday Stuff. So the days kind of melt into one another and I am not really sure where I am or what I’m supposed to be doing. I think, it being Tuesday, I should be setting up a Dinners This Week post. But I haven’t even planned my meals this week, yet. (We are going out to dinner tonight, so I can delay that chore another day.) Plus, I have other things on my mind.

Did I tell you that we have new neighbors?

Deer 1

These are the Cute Neighbors.

Deer 2

They are very cute indeed. They do lots of frolicking. And they seem to see in Carla a kindred spirit because whenever she is in the living room, looking out at them from the sliding glass doors, they take great interest in her and often come up quite close to the glass.

Many new neighbors.

Skunk

Still very cute, but more worrisome. Especially because she has at least THREE babies in her condo under that step. Yes. The step that is directly adjacent to our living room.

Unrelated — surprisingly — to skunks: today, I am also preoccupied with The Smell. My husband woke me up with a loving kiss, as he does every morning, and, instead of saying, “Good morning, my darling,” he whispered, “I think I smell something bad.” Just the kind of affectionate phrasing I most enjoy in the wee hours, let me tell you.

I couldn’t smell it; couldn’t smell anything, really, because my nose has been, of late, CLOGGED TO THE MAX. I’m pretty sure I have a sinus infection; my forehead is tender, as are the circles under my eyes; my head is in a constant state of achey-ness; my nose, as mentioned just a second ago, is thick with YUCK.

But Carla leaped out of bed – she wakes up the instant anyone else is awake, unless she wakes up first; in summers, she has been “sleeping in” until six thirty or so, which is lovely – and chimed in from her room, “I think I smell it!”

I don’t know if it was the power of suggestion, but I thought – after copious nose-blowing – that maybe I, too, could smell the underpinnings of something foul.

My husband and I tossed around the idea that maybe it was the aftereffects of some roasted broccoli we had last night. Broccoli, delicious as it is, has a bad habit of releasing a pungent fart perfume that lingers in its absence. Carla wondered if the flowers we have in vases throughout our downstairs might be causing the stink, but they all look relatively fresh and the vase water is clear, and passed The Sniff Test, so…

So I did what anyone might do when confronted with Something Smelly: I cleared out all the garbage cans, sprayed the insides of the cans with bleach, cleaned the toilets for good measure, ran a load of laundry (although none of the laundry baskets had a noticeable smell), ran the garbage disposal, wiped down the counters. I questioned Carla closely about whether she’s taken any food upstairs (this is verboten in our house, and I don’t know that she’s ever done it before… but you never know). (She looked at me with wide-eyed shock that I would even ASK her such a thing. Dost she protest too much? Hmmmm….) (I smelled each corner of her room carefully, but we have already established that we cannot trust my nose.) Then I took Carla to camp and went for my usual four-mile walk.

The Smell greeted me when I returned.

Sigh.

It’s steamy outside, but I have dutifully opened all the windows and doors, in hopes of coaxing The Smell to leave. I dumped baking soda in each of the kitchen sink drains, filled one side of the sink with a mixture of hot water and vinegar, and ran the disposal as I let it drain; that’s the best way I know to really CLEAN the disposal. I’ve refreshed the flower water, just in case that’s the culprit. I am running the dishwasher, in case I didn’t rinse last night’s dishes thoroughly enough. I’m not really sure what to do next. Toss the week-old Gerber daisies, I suppose. They still look fine, but maybe they’re not.

Now I need to shower, because I don’t want to add my own Eau de Post-Workout to the scents inside the house.

The abiding worry, of course, is that some animal has crawled in between our walls and died there, memorializing its life in a legacy of odor. I wouldn’t even know where to BEGIN dealing with that, should that be the case. But let’s try everything else, first.

What else have I overlooked? What are the likely stink culprits in your home, when you’ve eliminated “trash smell” and “bathroom smells” from the list?

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Usually, January is the month that lasts for two. But I feel like this particular January flew by. Here’s some randomosity for your Friday reading.

  • My mother-in-law got us tickets to go an author reading in a few months and suggested that, to prepare, we both read her latest book. The author – B. A. Shapiro – is new to me. The book is called The Collector’s Apprentice and it sounds v. interesting – love and art and revenge, all with the 1920s as a backdrop. Sign me up!

Collectors Apprentice

  • I bought the book with a gift card. A gift card I’d had since… at least two Christmases ago. I am not good at usinggift cards, because I don’t want to waste them. My husband is the exact opposite. He BURNS to use a gift card immediately. I hoard them. That is how I came to have several months of pedicures last spring: because I needed to use up a gift card I’d gotten before it expired. It had been a present for my baby shower. In 2013. See? Gift card hoarder. It can really backfire, though, so I’m trying to be better about it. Once, my husband got me a gift certificate for a massage. And I saved and saved it and saved it, waiting for the best possible time to use it… And the spa went out of business. Let that be a lesson to gift card hoarders everywhere!
Gift cards

These were just the ones I found in my wallet. I have a problem.

  • The Collector’s Apprentice wasn’t the only book I bought with my years-old gift card. I spent the whole thing. I bought some writerly type books and some newish fiction I’ve been wanting to read and some classics that I’ve been meaning to read for a long time. And now my side table/personal library looks a little… overburdened. I mean, it’s been a good long while since it’s been even nearly this bad. I don’t normally organize the books that way – they don’t fit. Usually the spines are facing the bed. Not that I read through them every night and select one based on the available titles. No, I read no more than two or three at a time like a normal person.
Side table

Note to longtime readers: This is NOT another pregnancy announcement.

  • Hiding behind my book stacks are a variety of chapstick and hand lotion (and pillow spray, which I love). My hands are HATING this weather. My entire skin, in fact, has decided to stage a rebellion. I have big painful spots on each arm, my legs are covered in a scaly, itchy rash, my face has alternated between auditioning for role of Teenage Acne and becoming so dry it peels off. It’s really lovely. My hands are the easiest to deal with. I have purchased a wide variety of hand lotions with oddly aggressive labels like Intensive Healing and Ultra-Dry Skin Relief and Uber Nourishing Dry-Guard Skin Milk. I have stashed lotion everywhere: my nightstand, my bathroom, Carla’s bathroom, the kitchen, my purse, my car. My cuticles are still peeling, but none of my knuckles are cracked OR bleeding, so I think I’m winning.

 

  • Some of those books have been on my nightstand for a couple of years. The upside-down Louise Erdrich book, LaRose, has been there for at least two. She’s an exceptional author and the book is very well done, but it’s so achingly sad I can’t get more than halfway through it before I need to take a break… and then by the time I can gear myself up to pick it up again, I need to start over from the beginning. Lather, rinse, repeat. My husband keeps asking if he can go file it (he LOVES to put books on our bookshelves) but I can’t bring myself to give up on it. Some of the books are just laziness on my part. My husband will be happy to know he can shelve the Tana French book  (very good, as per usual, but not my favorite of her works) and I need to return the Jodi Picoult book and The Association of Small Bombs and The Master Butcher’s Singing Club to their original owners. (I read none of them but have had each of them for well over a year now, so it’s time they went home.)
LaRose

Photo from Amazon.com of the hardcover version on my nightstand; the link goes to the less expensive paperback

 

  • Today is the last day Carla can sell Girl Scout Cookies. Since the weather has warmed up a bit, I think we’ll head out to the last few neighbors’ houses we haven’t hit yet. I am so glad this portion of Girl Scouts is over because I HATE IT. My parents never let me sell things when I was a kid. For one thing, my nearest neighbor was two miles away. For another, they were both “the boss” at their respective offices and felt like it wasn’t cool to ask their employees to buy shit from their kid. I remember distinctly a standoff between my mom and some hapless teacher who was trying to insist that I had to sell whatever scheme they were in the midst of: citrus fruit for choir, magazine sales for lord knows what reason (something to do with “weebles,” although I’m not sure how it benefited the school, exactly). My mom said no, the teacher said it was mandatory (how??? my memory isn’t great so I am probably misremembering) and so my mom wrote a check. And the teacher was sullen about it – the money was only part of the point, I think – but that was that. The end of my career as a salesgirl. This is all to say that I have a deep-rooted discomfort with selling stuff. And yes, I KNOW people love Girl Scout Cookies, and I KNOW this is teaching Carla valuable skills like counting money and interacting with people and memorizing a little sales script and facing rejection and yada yada yada but I HATE IT WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS.

 

  • Along with most of the country, Carla’s school was closed this week due to cold, so we stayed home and entertained ourselves. By far the most entertaining thing that happened was that an enormous unfamiliar bird stationed himself on top of Carla’s swingset for a good hour or so. I took many pictures of the bird, from many different windows, with two separate cameras. Carla and I pored over our Birds of State book, trying to pinpoint what it was. I narrowed it down to a Cooper’s Hawk or a Broad-winged Hawk; Carla insisted it was an owl of some sort, although I think we can all (except Carla) agree that it does not have an owl face. I took a very boring video of our backyard squirrel, Howard, trying to get close to the bird, and the bird puffing up its wings. I mean, what was Howard thinking? Was he trying to scare the bird off of what he must consider to be HIS swingset? Was he just getting a better look? Did he want to snuggle? But I’m pretty sure a bird that size wouldn’t hesitate to eat Howard for Thanksgiving dinner, so I was pretty relieved that Howard gave up after the bird flapped at him.
Hawk 1

Even with my husband’s fancy camera, I couldn’t get a good close up. And this bird was posing like nobody’s business, fierce looks, lots of feather ruffling, he would definitely win America’s Next Top Hawk Model. It’s not his fault I have poor photography skills.

Hawk 2

Difficult to see because of distance and speed, but this is Howard, trying to sneak up on the giant bird of prey that should probably strike terror in his little sciurine heart.

  • Purely because it’s February, and not because I have anything at all to report, I shall update you on my goals/aspirations for the year. In short, I am not doing well. I have been writing my book, but not as often as I should. My “be in bed by 10:30” goal has been a laughable failure. Last night, for no reason whatsoever, I stayed up until 12:15 am watching Child 44, which wasn’t even particularly good. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t stay up past midnight good. And yet. Okay, I just continued listing all the ways I am failing at my goals and that way madness and tearful potato chip eating lies, so I erased it. One goal I haveaccomplished is to buy new underwear. I was at Nordstrom and there was a sale rack of underpinnings and I figured, I can spend $4 a pair on some new underwear! So I collected two pairs in my size and then found a whole big pile of Natori underpants in nice, bright, pretty colors. And they were on sale for $10.87 a pair, which is steep. But a salesperson happened to walk past and she said, “Those are our bestsellers. Everybody loves them.” So I figured a) Natori is the brand of bra I like best, maybe the underthings will be just as good and b) who am I to go against the undergarment grain? The only problem was that these fancy drawers were one size fits all. I asked the salesperson and she ASSURED ME that they really were magical and fit ALL SIZES. I was deeply suspicious, but wanted to try them – and also felt like it was a bit of a challenge, right? I mean, I’ve got a generous backyard, so if these lawn covers were truly going to be one-size-fits-all, then they had their work cut out for them. Well, I did try them on and they did fit… but I have yet to take the tags off and wash everything and wear them out and about. I will tell you that the Natori knickers rang up at $3.97 apiece, so I feel like even if they provide mere cautionary fodder for this blog, they were worth the price.

 

  • Lately, whenever I can’t find my phone, it’s because Carla has swiped it to take photos. She has her own camera – this Vtech Kidizoom camera which is actually quite cool – but the memory card fills up quickly. And I understand why, because I find evidence of her voluminous photography in my phone’s photo stream.

 

Carla Photos

Experimenting with close ups of floor, foot, and pet (stuffed) tiger. 

  • I really can’t believe it’s February. Despite the lingering cold, it feels like winter is on its way out. February is so short and then it’s March and spring and warmer temperatures. Sitting here in my cozy house with the promise of not just above-zero but above-freezing temperatures later today and all weekend, it is easy to feel like winter is going fast. Of course, I can say that because it’s my favorite season – and I LOVE snow, in particular. As part of my More Weekend Adventures goal, we went sledding a couple of weeks ago. It was Carla’s first time and I think she had a blast. I had to buy a sled, and I got a $9.99 sled from Target. It lasted for an hour before it sprung a big hole. Fortunately, it was quite cold so we were all ready to exchange sledding for hot chocolate, but it was disappointing nonetheless. I don’t know if we misused it – my husband and I did go down with Carla a couple of times; not all three of us, but one parent with the kid – or if the terrain, which seemed nice a deeply snow covered, was somehow rougher than it seemed… but it seems to me that even a $9.99 sled should last for longer than an hour. I wanted to return it, but my husband says it’s not worth it. Who knows if we’ll even get the combination of Good Snow and Survivable Temperatures again this season? And we did use it. Maybe we already got our $9.99 worth of sledding out of it. I’m new at this.
Sled

Sled, beautiful and unblemished, pre-sledding.

Happy weekend, Internet!

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