Dear Stanky,
It's great that you've taken upon yourself the task of ridding our house of all the mice we've seen lately. I've been quite impressed with the results, too. You've caught more mice in the past week than in your past 14 years. I believe that this morning's mouse was the tenth notch on your scratching post.
I also appreciate how gently you've dispatched the mice. You cats sure know how to kill something softly. There was that one that looked a bit more like a 7th grade biology dissection project gone horribly wrong, but the rest have all looked like they're sleeping, albeit a bit more ruffled and comatose than usual.
Speaking of sleeping, let's try to keep the 'gifts' out of my bedroom. You know that mamma isn't too fond of mice, even when presented so lovingly by her slippers, so from now on, could you go back to depositing them near your food? Thanks.
Keep up the magnificent work!
Dad
PS: I'll get more of those treats today -- the soft chicken ones, right?
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Mice in the Hice
I thought we had just one mouse in the house. Our cat caught it (yay, Stanky!), and that was it. Right?
OK, wishful thinking. There is probably a rubric somewhere that tells you how many mice you have for every one that you see. If there is such a calculation, I don't want to know, because I just saw two mouseys. Stanky is on the job.
One day last year, we came home to find two dead mice lined up (parallel!) in front of the television. On other occasions, we'd come home to find a mouse in the same spot. This meant that, for awhile, I had to be the one to check the living room first. Shirra could handle bugs of all sorts, but she used to hyperventilate when she saw long-tailed rodents under sub-optimal conditions (like: dead on her floor).
As I wrote most of this, there were two mice scurrying about. One ran from the kitchen into the laundry closet as another did a perimeter search of the living room (where I'm sitting). Stanky finished my yogurt and then crouched in his favorite hunting spot. I heard a brief tussle, and then in traipsed Stanky with half of a mouse in his mouth. We disposed of it quickly, and I gave him another reward. He's had a lot of them lately.
OK, wishful thinking. There is probably a rubric somewhere that tells you how many mice you have for every one that you see. If there is such a calculation, I don't want to know, because I just saw two mouseys. Stanky is on the job.
One day last year, we came home to find two dead mice lined up (parallel!) in front of the television. On other occasions, we'd come home to find a mouse in the same spot. This meant that, for awhile, I had to be the one to check the living room first. Shirra could handle bugs of all sorts, but she used to hyperventilate when she saw long-tailed rodents under sub-optimal conditions (like: dead on her floor).
As I wrote most of this, there were two mice scurrying about. One ran from the kitchen into the laundry closet as another did a perimeter search of the living room (where I'm sitting). Stanky finished my yogurt and then crouched in his favorite hunting spot. I heard a brief tussle, and then in traipsed Stanky with half of a mouse in his mouth. We disposed of it quickly, and I gave him another reward. He's had a lot of them lately.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Pitty, Our Road. Pity Us
I met with a man about our horribly pitted road. The drive has gotten so bad that my car bottoms out in a couple spots, which may have resulted in a broken brake fluid line and some busted bearing holders in both wheels. The road is currently soggy, pitty, and cratery. It's gotten so bad that I may have to make up a few more words for it, tho some popular scatological ones come to mind right away.
As for the repair, our man estimated the cost in the $4,800 range. Ouch. The last time we had some holes filled in, it cost us $300, or 12 times less. The repair should last 4 or 5 years, however, so that's not too bad, and luckily we share the road and can split the costs with our nabes. We'll see how that turns out....
As for the repair, our man estimated the cost in the $4,800 range. Ouch. The last time we had some holes filled in, it cost us $300, or 12 times less. The repair should last 4 or 5 years, however, so that's not too bad, and luckily we share the road and can split the costs with our nabes. We'll see how that turns out....
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Spring Flood 08
New Paltz was hit with a rain storm last week. The temperature surpassed 32, and the sun came out. All of the leftover snow melted. The fire department immediately went on alert.
It's not the flooded basements that put us on standby. Basements were looking pretty pond-like along certain roads like Ohioville (North and South). Instead, it's the threat of downed power lines that we fear. As the ground soaks up all that water, the Central Hudson poles tend to sag a bit. Sometimes these get hit by trucks, and sometimes they just snap under high winds.
Luckily we didn't have to deal with one of those situations, but we did have lots of basements to pump out. Some had a foot of water; some had enough to get into the waders that the firemen were wearing. As it happened, I didn't go onto a basement until a day after the major flooding. For those who DID go in on the bad day, they often came out with a couple bootfuls of H20. One young guy new to the department came out of a basement with more water than was left in the basement after we'd finished, or so he claimed.
It's not the flooded basements that put us on standby. Basements were looking pretty pond-like along certain roads like Ohioville (North and South). Instead, it's the threat of downed power lines that we fear. As the ground soaks up all that water, the Central Hudson poles tend to sag a bit. Sometimes these get hit by trucks, and sometimes they just snap under high winds.
Luckily we didn't have to deal with one of those situations, but we did have lots of basements to pump out. Some had a foot of water; some had enough to get into the waders that the firemen were wearing. As it happened, I didn't go onto a basement until a day after the major flooding. For those who DID go in on the bad day, they often came out with a couple bootfuls of H20. One young guy new to the department came out of a basement with more water than was left in the basement after we'd finished, or so he claimed.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Worst Anniversary Ever
In the Spongebob movie that my kids were watching a few months ago, Spongebob and friend Patrick sing, "It's the best day, e-e-ever." I had that song running on a loop thru my head all day, only with the word 'best' replaced by 'worst' and 'day' replaced by 'anniversary.'
The day wasn't as bad as I'm sure some people's worst anniversary stories might attest. No one dies, no one gets arrested, there isn't a big blowout fight. I'm not comparing my lousy anniversary with some truly lousy days among the general public. But I've had 14 other anniversaries, and all of them were either more enjoyable or were truly nondescript. I remember having a lovely time on our first anniversary back in 1994. We got each other cute gifts and looked forward to finally sampling that last bite of wedding cake that we'd set aside 365 days earlier. Word to the unwise: Enjoy the cake while it's still fresh, because cake left in a freezer for one year tastes like soggy cardboard.
I don't recall the details of the next 13 anniversaries; they all blend together, and I can only try to remember them individually if I calculate the year and then try to conjure up a memory of what we were doing in our lives at that time. I just remember feeling a sense of relief and happiness last year when our marriage turned 14 because that meant that we'd stayed together longer than my parents, and that had always been a goal of mine.
Things didn't bode well when Shirra realized just a few days ago that our anniversary was approaching. Apparently it came to her when she was remembering that March 3 was the birthday of our first cat. I had completely forgotten that our big day was coming up, and I was even more chagrinned when I remembered that a few years ago, she'd hoped to celebrate #15 with a cruise on the Queen Mary 2. Well, that boat sailed on by.
According to some online research I just did, the 15th anniversary is traditionally marked with gifts of crystal (a huge improvement over the tin of year 10). I opted instead for a picnic theme. It wasn't like I'd given myself a lot of time to plan ahead, so I drove down to Kat the Cheese's shop in the Water Street Market and bought some cheeses, bread, crackers, jam, and a cool little picnic pack that looks like a large Fil-o-Fax I once had but actually holds some napkins, a cheese board, and two sets of cutlery. My plan was to surprise Shirra this morning with a late breakfast on our lawn after we'd taken the kids to school. But at about 9pm, it finally dawned on me that there was no way to pull this off. For one thing, the weather hadn't warmed up as much as I'd hoped, but more importantly, I was slated to be the parent-helper at Maeve's preschool, and Shirra had her usual early-morning knitting group as she does every Friday. Since it was too late to make any changes, we had our picnic after the kids went to sleep, and our anniversary-eve party, quiet and private, was lovely.
Today, however, got off to a lousy start. I usually get to spend nearly an hour hanging out with Fiona in the morning before school starts, but today she watched some Doctor Who as I ruined my first-ever egg poaching attempt before making her a subpar sunny-side-up egg instead. I spent just a few minutes with Emmett before taking Maeve to her preschool, and then I spent the next 150 minutes waiting for that half-day of madness to end. Normally I love going in as the parent-helper, but today I wasn't at my best, and while it ended nicely enough, I still had a bad taste in my mouth.
I took Maeve to Shirra's store in hopes of chatting with Shirra for awhile and just giving her a few snuggly hugs, but this was spoiled when Shirra spotted an injured dog that was wandering past her shop. Being a dog-lover, she had to tend to it, necessitating a variety of phone calls (owner, vet, animal rescue, and so on). I left, hoping that the dog's owner would soon show up (she did) and that the dog would be ok (it was) and frustrated that this had to happen on March 7.
My drive to Manhattan was uneventful and my tutoring sessions were great, but the drive back was made difficult and unpleasant by the incessant rain. When I finally got home, Shirra gave me a present of a pair of slippers that, despite being my size, didn't feel right (too small? too narrow?). It was a fitting end to the day, I suppose. Or should that be 'unfitting'? Either way, I'm glad that this anniversary is finally over so that we can start saving for that QM2 trip in a few years.
The day wasn't as bad as I'm sure some people's worst anniversary stories might attest. No one dies, no one gets arrested, there isn't a big blowout fight. I'm not comparing my lousy anniversary with some truly lousy days among the general public. But I've had 14 other anniversaries, and all of them were either more enjoyable or were truly nondescript. I remember having a lovely time on our first anniversary back in 1994. We got each other cute gifts and looked forward to finally sampling that last bite of wedding cake that we'd set aside 365 days earlier. Word to the unwise: Enjoy the cake while it's still fresh, because cake left in a freezer for one year tastes like soggy cardboard.
I don't recall the details of the next 13 anniversaries; they all blend together, and I can only try to remember them individually if I calculate the year and then try to conjure up a memory of what we were doing in our lives at that time. I just remember feeling a sense of relief and happiness last year when our marriage turned 14 because that meant that we'd stayed together longer than my parents, and that had always been a goal of mine.
Things didn't bode well when Shirra realized just a few days ago that our anniversary was approaching. Apparently it came to her when she was remembering that March 3 was the birthday of our first cat. I had completely forgotten that our big day was coming up, and I was even more chagrinned when I remembered that a few years ago, she'd hoped to celebrate #15 with a cruise on the Queen Mary 2. Well, that boat sailed on by.
According to some online research I just did, the 15th anniversary is traditionally marked with gifts of crystal (a huge improvement over the tin of year 10). I opted instead for a picnic theme. It wasn't like I'd given myself a lot of time to plan ahead, so I drove down to Kat the Cheese's shop in the Water Street Market and bought some cheeses, bread, crackers, jam, and a cool little picnic pack that looks like a large Fil-o-Fax I once had but actually holds some napkins, a cheese board, and two sets of cutlery. My plan was to surprise Shirra this morning with a late breakfast on our lawn after we'd taken the kids to school. But at about 9pm, it finally dawned on me that there was no way to pull this off. For one thing, the weather hadn't warmed up as much as I'd hoped, but more importantly, I was slated to be the parent-helper at Maeve's preschool, and Shirra had her usual early-morning knitting group as she does every Friday. Since it was too late to make any changes, we had our picnic after the kids went to sleep, and our anniversary-eve party, quiet and private, was lovely.
Today, however, got off to a lousy start. I usually get to spend nearly an hour hanging out with Fiona in the morning before school starts, but today she watched some Doctor Who as I ruined my first-ever egg poaching attempt before making her a subpar sunny-side-up egg instead. I spent just a few minutes with Emmett before taking Maeve to her preschool, and then I spent the next 150 minutes waiting for that half-day of madness to end. Normally I love going in as the parent-helper, but today I wasn't at my best, and while it ended nicely enough, I still had a bad taste in my mouth.
I took Maeve to Shirra's store in hopes of chatting with Shirra for awhile and just giving her a few snuggly hugs, but this was spoiled when Shirra spotted an injured dog that was wandering past her shop. Being a dog-lover, she had to tend to it, necessitating a variety of phone calls (owner, vet, animal rescue, and so on). I left, hoping that the dog's owner would soon show up (she did) and that the dog would be ok (it was) and frustrated that this had to happen on March 7.
My drive to Manhattan was uneventful and my tutoring sessions were great, but the drive back was made difficult and unpleasant by the incessant rain. When I finally got home, Shirra gave me a present of a pair of slippers that, despite being my size, didn't feel right (too small? too narrow?). It was a fitting end to the day, I suppose. Or should that be 'unfitting'? Either way, I'm glad that this anniversary is finally over so that we can start saving for that QM2 trip in a few years.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Scarf Update
I finally updated a photo of my scarf. Here it is again. My next project is to learn how to purl (this week). On Sunday I'm leading my first men's knit (oops -- I meant to write "Men's Night") at Shirra's store. Should be fun!
Monday, March 03, 2008
Mirror Mirror on the Car
While looking for a parking spot in Manhattan this past Saturday, I knocked the mirror off my car. Actually, to be exact, it was my wife's car; I'd borrowed it for the weekend because I needed its capacity for the dozen unicycles I was taking into the Big City for the bi-monthly uniclub meeting. Her car is the Honda Odyssey, and it's a bit wider than my Aztek. When I tried to pass by a double-parked car, I heard a thunk, and the next thing my son heard was me yelling 'Firetruck' minus the "iretr" part.
Shirra had knocked mirrors off my car in the past -- in fact, she knocked BOTH off during her worst 5 minutes of driving back in 2005 -- so she was quite understanding about my mistake when I told her about it. The good news was that the only damage to either car was my missing mirror, but I assumed that the repair would cost hundreds of dollars. Enter Rick from Main Street Auto.
Rick, whose given name is Farooge, has been our mechanic since we moved to New Paltz. We've given him a lot of business since we moved here -- most recently a re-repair of one of my wheels, whose bearing keep breaking from driving on my pock-marked road. I brought the car in just in case he had some ideas about a cheap fix, and immediately he suggested I get screws from the hardware store and we'd take it from there. When I came back, he took one of my 18-cent screws and twisted it thru the base of the mirror and into the mirror itself. Voila! Farooge wouldn't even take a tip. A temporary solution to a dangerous problem, and all for under a quarter! Gotta love life in the Big Village.
Shirra had knocked mirrors off my car in the past -- in fact, she knocked BOTH off during her worst 5 minutes of driving back in 2005 -- so she was quite understanding about my mistake when I told her about it. The good news was that the only damage to either car was my missing mirror, but I assumed that the repair would cost hundreds of dollars. Enter Rick from Main Street Auto.
Rick, whose given name is Farooge, has been our mechanic since we moved to New Paltz. We've given him a lot of business since we moved here -- most recently a re-repair of one of my wheels, whose bearing keep breaking from driving on my pock-marked road. I brought the car in just in case he had some ideas about a cheap fix, and immediately he suggested I get screws from the hardware store and we'd take it from there. When I came back, he took one of my 18-cent screws and twisted it thru the base of the mirror and into the mirror itself. Voila! Farooge wouldn't even take a tip. A temporary solution to a dangerous problem, and all for under a quarter! Gotta love life in the Big Village.
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