Oh Yes He Did

I leave notes to myself on everything from check stubs to recipes, about subjects I want to rememember to write about. Then I shuffle papers around and lose those notes. I have now taken to using the voice recorder feature on my cell phone to record musings about topics I want to address; I do this on my way home from work as the roads are winding and it is always dark when I come home. There's no way to type that into the notes section of my phone and it is also now illegal to text while driving. Plus, it is deer season and those suckers will pop up anywhere at any time. I do not want to be messing with my phone and look up to see antlers coming through my windshield!

One of the ever so poignant stories that I should have written two weeks ago was about the White Husky, Gunnar. G-man and I were getting a late start (7am) as it was a weekend and the snow was falling. After donning the "winter wardrobe" I went out to see him. He was peering through the fence of his outdoor kennel so I went over to say hello before loading Old Man Taylor with wood.

I noticed there was some blood smeared on the snow in front of Gunnar and I immediately started to worry that he had done something to his teeth again. Actually what I thought was, "He is not getting another grand out of my wallet!" I looked at his legs and there was a little blood on his front left paw, but he was happy and dancing around on all fours. I looked through the fence to try to find any indication that he had done more than pull a toenail, and I decided to head into the barn to get him dressed for his walk. He was still happy and jumpy and moving all extremities so I decided to walk him as far as we could: that means walk him as far as I could go before I dropped, and when wearing insulated overalls, winter coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and huge boots, that is not more than two miles. I've tried.

We have a wonderful winter walk and then I put Gunnar into the barn with his breakfast. I go into the outdoor kennel with a shovel to remove some of the frozen "tootsie rolls" stuck to the ground. I'm half way through this process when I see the most gruesome sight: blood everywhere on a lower section of the kennel post closest to the gate. I mean, the post is coated with blood. It looks like a murder took place: it is reminiscent of the criminal investigation shows that are on TV. I had my very own "NCIS" episode in Gunnar's kennel.

However, it only took me a few seconds to solve the mystery.  I had all of these images--a video montage if you will--of Gunnar in his outdoor kennel the first few months we lived here: he is happy to see me as I walk towards him, but frustrated that he can't yet get to me for one of his polar bear hugs.  When he is in this state of excitement, he always stands up near the kennel gate and licks the post--I have no idea why he does this. I've never even cared why he does this, because after having Wulf in the family for six years, a compulsive furniture licker and cheek rubber (on carpet), I don't try to figure out animal behavior anymore.

Gunnar had actually gotten his tongue stuck to the kennel post in subzero temperatures! Seriously! I turned toward him because he was by now done with breakfast and he flew through the dog door to see what I was doing. I tried to put my fingers in his mouth and get him to kiss me at the same time--I had to gain tongue visibility.  Gunnar ate his food just fine, chewed it on both sides of his mouth (I did check for that; I'm a good mommy), so I just assumed he had enough tongue left to carry on with life. I also prayed that this lesson would teach him something and that he'd never, ever do that again...

When I came back into the house, I chewed my husband for not giving his youngest son, "the talk." Bill was bewildered and had no idea what "talk" he had failed to give to the G-man. He was probably thinking of the "birds and the bees" talk, but as I recounted the story of the murder scene to him, Bill realized he needed to mention the "don't stick your tongue to metal stuff in winter" story to all five of the kids. I'm not very confident that he's had that talk yet and am pensively waiting with a measuring cup full of warm water every time Wulfie goes outside!

The Twelve Days of Tucson

Here's a little auld lang syne for you, written last year while still living in Arizona.

"(Sing it to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas."  I know, it’s a stretch.):

On the first day in Tucson I walked along and saw… a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the second day in Tucson I walked along and saw 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail…

On the third day in Tucson I walked along and saw 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail…

On the fourth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the fifth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 5 Rattlesnakes!!!   4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the sixth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!! 4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the seventh day in Tucson I walked along and saw 7 Javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!!  4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the eighth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 8 creepy lizards, 7 javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!!  4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the ninth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 9 empty Bud cans, 8 creepy lizards, 7 javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!!  4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the tenth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 10 little burros, 9 empty Bud cans, 8 creepy lizards, 7 javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!! 4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the eleventh day in Tucson I walked along and saw 11 vultures circling (me), 10 little burros, 9 empty Bud cans, 8 creepy lizards, 7 javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!!  4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail.

On the twelfth day in Tucson I walked along and saw 12 Border Agents, 11 vultures circling (me), 10 little burros, 9 empty Bud cans, 8 creepy lizards, 7 javelinas, 6 baby quail, 5 Rattlesnakes!!  4 red ant hills, 3 ground squirrels, 2 brown coyotes, and a scorpion hanging from Loki’s tail!!!!!"

2010ChristmasCard

Merry Christmas and Happy Homer Holidays!!!

DEER Sue:

I left for work early this morning as the meteorologists – in all of their infinite wisdom – on the local news stations said we were under winter weather advisory and to expect freezing drizzle all the way to the city. Driving in the darkness most of the way, I tuned in to one of the liveliest local radio stations. Perfect timing, because the DJs had taken a call from “Sue,” who isn’t a native to Wisconsin.

Sue felt the need to call in and complain about her neighbor who had gone deer hunting this season and he was apparently still hanging his deer from the ceiling in the garage. Sue had asked him to keep his garage door closed so that they wouldn’t have a view of the inside of his garage from their living room window.  The real problem, Sue stated, was the fact that she didn’t want to have to explain to her school-aged son why there was a dead deer across the street. She said that she didn’t feel the need to explain where meat comes from, especially something as gross as deer meat, as that didn’t come from a grocery store. She stated the meat in grocery stores are raised on farms where they are specifically raised as food animals.  As if that makes it more humane! Sue wanted her son to think his meat comes from grocery stores! Also, Sue didn’t know why hunters wore blaze orange: “It doesn’t look good on anyone; I don’t know why they wear it. It’s not like the deer care what color they wear.” The radio DJs then had to explain twice to Sue why it was important for the hunters to wear blaze orange: “No, it’s not so the deer see the hunters, Sue; it’s so the hunters see each other.” “Why, Sue? So they don’t shoot each other.” (Sidebar: by this time I was swearing so loud at the idiocy that I was hearing I had almost swerved off the road and run over a compact car).

So, here’s to Kate Gosselin – er, I mean Samantha…er “Sue:”

Listen honey, I know blaze orange might not be in your color wheel, but I think you’d better rethink explaining to your child where meat comes from if you’re going to be evolved enough to eat it. Whether it’s caught, trapped, hunted, or farm-raised—and then hit over the head with a big bat to kill it, like in some big slaughterhouses—the meat all ends up in the grocery store for you and your pudgy little family to overindulge yourselves on (with tater tots). Oh, and Sue, please don’t tell me you actually think red meat comes from red animals, too.

Weather Advisory Warning:

I am not proud that it has taken me 34 years to finally admit this and I know how difficult this will be for my friends and family to accept. I didn't want to sit everyone down and explain individually and have a dramatic, snot-filled, tears-and-hugs session with everybody. Besides, why not just tell the whole world and get it all over with in one fell swoop?

It is time I come out and not hide the fact that... I LOVE SNOW! Believe me, no one is more shocked than I am, but it doesn't pain me as much as I thought it would to finally admit this truth. I've only known for a few weeks so I really haven't had time to get used to it either. Well, I really haven't known for that long--I had suspicions.  (I know this will dramatically affect our relationship, Seneca, and I wanted to tell you in person, but I didn't even know myself when we were in Vegas together a few weeks ago. Try not to be too disappointed in me).

I even love to shovel snow, which I was doing just now in my pajamas, rain boots, scarf, and cap, with the chihuahuas observing from indoors. (What? I wasn't going to get all dressed up when it's 24 degrees outside. I was burning up!).

I love all kinds of snow. I love snow that is cold, fluffy and light. I love that sometimes it's wet and heavy and slushy--but not as much as the cold, fluffy and light, kind.  I love all types of snow: white, gray, yellow, and brown.  I don't eat or drink the yellow or brown varietals though: they taste funny.

I guess I came to this conclusion --about loving snow, not about eating yellow snow--on the 2 and 1/2 hour commute I just had in a mini snow blizzard. That is a long commute but it was pretty: it's always pretty in four-wheel drive! I also learned a couple of things:

1) Fog lights are amazing! They do great work in snowy conditions, just like they do in rain.
2) I understand the definition of "snowblind" now, although my version occurs during dark hours instead of daylight.
3) I also learned the destination of the idiot in front of me as she had her GPS mounted to her windshield so high up that I could almost push the buttons if I leaned forward.
4) I learned that it still doesn't matter if you have an Arizona license plate: some Wisconsinites just don't realize that should be their first line indicator that the person behind the wheel has no winter road skills and they might do better if they backed off my luggage rack!

Beauty and Cooking Don't Mix

As my Aunt Tonda has been under the weather -- but quickly on the up-swing-- I wanted to share a story from her visit with us from two weeks ago.

Tonda is one of my mom's four sisters, second youngest; and, she's my favorite. Don't get upset thinking that I am disrespecting the others, because I love all of them so much that it hurts. They are all beautiful and generous, zany and sweet, all in their own way and all of them are much fun to spend the day with. But, as with all truly wonderful people and substances, too much of a good thing causes twitches and side effects.  Besides, I think Tonda is the only one that tried to beat me when I was growing up, so there's a natural affection and fondness there.

She recently came up to visit and take in a Green Bay Packer game.  Having just started a new job, I didn't get to visit with Tonda as much as I wanted to, but fortunately Mr. H got to work from home a bit so he could keep his Auntie entertained. The first night she was here, Tonda treated us to an extravagant meal at Ruth's Chris Steak House. The food was phenomenal and Tonda marveled at how I could sit three feet from the fireplace that was next to my chair and not even break a sweat!

The next night, well, we didn't exactly eat at a number one steakhouse.  "Our" Aunt Tonda went shopping for groceries so she could make one of her specialties: let's just call it chicken and rice. None of the other trimmings are easy to describe, so we will go with chicken and rice. Let me back up:

Tonda, one of the most beautiful, curvaceous, and auburn-haired women in the world was born with many talents. When the Lord gives someone brains and beauty like hers, he skimps a bit in other areas; for Tonda, that area was cooking. Tonda tries her hardest. She always tries to cook Middle Eastern delicacies that are popular in Lebanese cuisine, the food that both of our generations grew up on (on one side of the family, anyway). But, Tonda always misses the mark--just a little bit.  The love is clearly in the couscous so to speak: that is apparent.  But, when a grape leaf roll looks like a cigar and a cabbage roll looks like a baseball bat, traditional menus have been all but thrown out the window.

So, Tonda buys a paycheck's worth of groceries and comes home, already proud of herself, that she is going to make the "most wonderful" Syrian (or Lebanese, who knows at this point?) dish we've ever had.  Maybe that's why we're still unclear as to what it was and if it was tasty or not.

To Tonda's credit, the chicken and rice had a wonderful flavor; I even packed some in my lunch the next day--actually, she packed it for me.  How cute is that? However, I don't want to get near what she called "salad" or "sauce," though: it was some sort of tomato-based mixture with cilantro in it as to give it a Mexican or Italian flair. It was a confusing sauce that might have been great with a jalapeno thrown in and some corn chips! Though still partly crunchy, the rice was seasoned perfectly, just like the chicken: nothing over the top, just garlic, salt, and pepper.  Mr. H took two bites of his chicken dinner the entire meal.  Finally, someone else was witness to the finicky eating habits of my husband. Tonda was shocked--and so was I: I've never seen Bill look afraid of a plate of chicken.  I told him, "Look, you ate a monkey in the frickin' jungle; the least you can do is eat a plate of chicken and rice for Aunt Tonda." Luckily, Tonda found that amusing and we sent her on her way in the morning after a lovely visit and two very, memorable meals.



Chicken and Rice Night: always have the fire extinguisher at the ready in Tonda's kitchen



Here's Tonda volunteering her time and Shaq, her mini horse, at a school

The Unthinkable

When I lived in Arizona, I wouldn't walk any of the chihuahuas if it was less than 60 degrees outside. You heard correctly: 60. Why? I wouldn't walk them because in a very dry climate 60 feels like 40--almost. In Wisconsin, with a huge amount of humidity and sunshine, 60 can feel like 75.

I am not writing about 60 degrees today; I'm not even writing about temperatures above freezing--or above zero for that matter! Every morning with the exception of yesterday, I have walked the White Husky without fail since we adopted him. I normally walk him twice a day; with my new work schedule, he gets a 5 o'clock morning walk and then his father deals with him in the evening.

Over the past few days we have had sub-zero temps. I don't mean barely sub-zero: I mean -10 or better. This morning it was -22 when I woke up but fortunately working from home today meant that Gunnar and I could walk two hours later than usual. Thank heavens! At 7am the temp had warmed up to a balmy -14F, so after I decided whether just to go out in shorts or actually put on my insulated overalls, G-man and I walked up to the woods. He froze two different paws along the way, but just kind of licked them and walked it off. I knew he was okay when he knowingly dove into three different snow embankments--up to his ears-- to check out any possible creatures burrowed under the frozen blanket. I could not convince anyone at this point that this hybrid came from Arizona. He loves snow and he seems to thrive in colder temperatures; humidity is not his best friend!

...Yeah...I did it...exactly what they tell you not to do: don't put your tongue on anything cold and metal!! I'm not sure why it was required but I do remember I was getting Gunnar out of his condo in the barn (thankfully we weren't outside) and I had my left hand on the gate latch and I took the D-ring off and PUT IT IN MY MOUTH! I stopped for a few seconds as Gunnar ran past me and thought, "Should I even try to move it?" "Why does my lip hurt so bad?" and various other things. Fortunately, there's always a happy ending for the idiotic. As my husband explained, I had only put aluminum in my mouth and not steel; otherwise, I would have required assistance. Then he proceeded to tell me about the metal properties of aluminum versus steel and I was wondering why his lazy ass didn't walk the dog. (He's actually not lazy and I love walking Gunnar).

Right now I must go though, as it is 8am: time to punch the time clock. Luckily we bought a quick "office-in-a-box" at the local Circus Freak Show (Walmart), anticipating the work from home I would be doing, so I am on a wobbly desk with two computers, a mug of coffee, the local Buyer's Guide, and two chihuahuas in dog beds next to me. (I have no idea where the other two are). (In our local Walmart's defense, this is a mild, tame shopping center compared to the email forwards we see).

And, I must go check my winter gear again as I am not entirely sure that one of my fingertips actually came out of the glove with the rest of my hand. (Kind of creepy, like "Into Thin Air.").