A Great Day for Freedom

Pink Floyd, The Division Bell 1994

Today is Save a Spider Day!

As your official Ambassador of the Arachnids, you can rest assured that in our house, we arachnid enthusiasts observe this holiday with all the proper solemnity and respect due such an important cause.  Spiders in peril?  No problem.

However, you may find yourself wondering, "Exactly how does one go about saving a spider?"  Bully for you that Daniel, our Common Pinktoe tarantula (a. avicularia), thought we should provide a demonstration.  Thoughtful bloke, that Daniel.

Gentle Reader, without further ado, I present to you the following:

Kelli's Official 3-Step Process For Saving a Spider©

Items Needed:
1 Plastic Container
1 Sheet of Paper
1 Spider in Imminent Danger

You happen upon a spider in a state of jeopardy.

Oh noes! Halp!

Step 1:
Carefully place the plastic container over the spider.

Maybe this was not such a good idea. Is this container BPA-free?  

Step 2:
Slip the paper under the container and most importantly, beneath the spider.

Okay, guys.  This isn't funny now.

Step 3:
Congratulations!  The spider is now saved.
No worries, the spider will thank you later!

Seriously, guys.  NOT FUNNY. The walls are closing in.  


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A word of caution: this method works best with spiders.  Dogs?

Not so much.

This post is dedicated to Sofia, my first 8 legged baby, the one who started this fun little fascination of mine.

Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict

Pink Floyd, Ummagumma 1969

Confession:  I am enjoying this entire "Pink Floyd Song Titles as Blog Post Titles" thing far more than I thought I would.  At first, I just figured it would be a silly thing to do, but I am finding that so many song titles simply fit.  I also enjoy playing the albums as I write.  A few months back, I was tempted to sell off all of my Pink Floyd CD collection as I have already burned it to iTunes.  I am so relieved I did not because I can play the CDs directly on our incredibly awesome sound system (the Bose commercials do not lie, folks.)  Also?  I think we have a Pink Floyd fan in the making because Arun really enjoys them, too.  And I could not be happier sharing one of my favorite bands with him.

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So, first up, I forgot a very important snap for yesterday's post and it must be included.  This is quite simply the most awesome of Halloween house decorating I think I have ever come across:

Team Chaos LOVES this house and begs for a daily viewing. I wonder if the owners are weirded out by the gray Acura that  creeps slowly past their house and sometimes even parks across the street while rolling down its windows. 

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So, it is that time of year.  The time when it gets chilly and the effing squirrels start clamouring for ways into my house in the style of Children of the Acorn.  All morning long I hear  

THUMP!
 then

skitter...skitter....skitter.....skitter...skitter....skitter.....

Those of you new to this literary rave may not know that I have a long, sordid history with squirrels which began while I was nine months pregnant with Arun.  In short, do not mess with a woman while her husband is out of town and she is mere weeks from giving birth. She will dance barefoot with unabashed glee in her front yard while squirrels flail in agony in traps set amongst her gutters.  Feel free to check out my "Tastes Like Chicken" archive where I describe in great detail the glory that was the Great Squirrel Sagas of 2005 and 2007.

Oh and I should make a particular mention that both Sagas happened while I was gestating, so imagine my fright when a few months ago, I heard some banging, then scratching.  I thought it was a cat, but instead discovered this:

Nothing is more ominous than seeing your shyest of your cats lying in wait like that and I swear my uterus quaked in fright.  Fortunately, the scratching and banging ended, so it seemed the creature returned to its lair.  And no pregnancy tests were harmed in the process.

But this recent spate of roof thumping has me nervous.  I really, really hope we are not getting squirrels again.  Not to sound dramatic, but squirrels are certainly on the short list of Things Kelli Does Not Really Need At This Moment.

Truthfully, I am so tempted to scoot over to Wal-Mart and buy a damned BB gun.  You think I am kidding?  I come by it honestly. After all, I am the daughter of the man who has declared the NRA to be too liberal an organization for him.

Pray for the squirrels, folks.

What's that smell?

Oh my god.

2007 Squirrel Saga takes a morbid twist. The Critter Guy said that it appears a squirrel accidently fell down the shaft, not in the chimney, not in the surrounding "box", but instead, between the chimney and another pipe. For Muy, Muy Money (as in several thousand bucks or so), we could rip off the outside of our chimney casing and tear apart all that tubing to free the little fucker (the squirrel, not the Critter Guy). Or, we could let the little fucker die, light some fires and hope for the best.

See ya later - I'm off to buy marshmallows and hot dogs. Yeehaw.

Why does this shit always happen when I am pregnant?

“A squirrel is just a rat with a cuter outfit!” - Carrie Bradshaw

The tree rats are back. Let me rephrase that - the fucking tree rats are back. Why us? Is our cedar shake roof some sort of Squirrel Siren Call? This time, it is only one and it is down in the chimney, except well, it isn't in the actual chimney, it is somewhere else that has something to do with our fireplace because I can hear the little fucker pawing and scratching away just above the fireplace.

For those of you just joining the program, the 2005 Squirrel Saga that happened a mere two weeks before I gave birth to Arun can be found at the following links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and the grand finale Part 6.

DAMMIT. The last little fiasco cost us well over $600. I can't begin to imagine how they will get that little fucker out of our fireplace chimney thingie. I could cry.

Actually, I think I will.

O Squirrel #5, Where Art Thou?

Dear Squirrel #5,

I understand that last night must have been upsetting to you - putting it mildly, of course. I, myself, shed a tear or two as your sister thrashed, squealed and cried in her final death throes. I even had a nightmare about it while sleeping last night. While I hate PETA, I do love animals and have realized that this is no longer funny. Long, painful deaths are just not my cup of tea. In retrospect, I also realize that my cackling and celebratory Dance o’ Death conducted in my front yard after your mother, brother and other sister had met their grisly ends may have appeared a bit unseemly as well and for this, I apologize. It’s just that your little teeth are so sharp. They chew holes in my roof, my HVAC ductwork and most distressingly, my electrical wiring.

So, please - Squirrel #5, I beg of you - just stick your little snout in the trap and accept the destiny that is yours. Thank you.

Sincerely,
The Management

Where the hell are they coming from?

Okay, at first it was kinda nice to have something to blog about besides the Freeloader. But this is ridiculous. The Critter Guy came to collect Carcass #3. Soon after he left, I heard some high-pitched Squirrel Squealing going on and I peeked outside. Not-Yet-A-Carcass#4 was wriggling around in the trap and ANOTHER little buddy (aka #5) was hanging out nearby egging him on. So, #4 has nearly wriggled free and it is quite distressing - where is he going to go? In the attic? To die? Chew more holes? Burn our house down? And what about #5? HOW MANY MORE ARE THERE? I had hoped there would only be four - this is costing us 60 bucks a pop. Our total tally thus far for only FOUR squirrels is $400 - this is BEFORE #5 and BEFORE any of the roof/eaves repairs, electrical repairs, and HVAC repairs.

Also, the carcasses (carci? what's the plural?) don't end at rodents. I also have a dead BIRD on my front porch that must be disposed of. YUCK. I am surrounded by death!

And it’s only 6:34pm. To make things uber-lovely, as I get to the kitchen sink and turn the water on, the handle flies off. Now, I see a plumber in my future. It's dandy to be clairvoyant, eh?

It’s gonna be a long, long night.

Why is that squirrel sleeping?

Squirrel Business: The squirrel carcass is still dangling from the rooftop. It is becoming less and less funny and instead, more and more gross. Bleh. My sister and the Nephews were over this morning and Older Nephew calmly observed “That squirrel up there is stuck in a spider web!”. Um, yes, YES HE IS. What else could we say? "Aunt Cagey is the sworn enemy of rodents with fluffy tails and has a disgusting sense of humor much like your Redneck Tightwad Grandpa?? " Of course not - although, I will admit a call into Critter Control is warranted - the thing needs to be carted away. YUCK.

Cribbage: Well, my marriage has survived yet another milestone! We successfully assembled a crib and we are STILL MARRIED. Nary a curse word was thrown, although there were some extremely tense moments. I was shocked at how stressful the whole venture was. I wasn’t that worried about even having a crib, as evidenced by my sheer laziness in getting around to purchasing one, but did push to assemble it ASAP because we only had 7 days from the date of receipt to report damages. I was shocked at the extremely crappy instructions - I am not normally shocked at furniture instructions this bad, but this is a CRIB, a place where all New Mommies are warned of the 100+ ways their precious progeny can DIE or become INJURED in one. I expected more, at a minimum, from a liability standpoint from the furniture manufacturer. Anyway, we got it together and I managed to keep my paranoia at a minimum.

Baby Pool: The countdown begins - if you would like to gander a guess at the little Freeloader's weight, see details on the sidebar to the left......

Adventures in BabyBuilding: I had my 38 week appointment with the doctor this morning. My total weight gain thus far is 22 lbs. Rock on. I may have to splurge and finally let myself have a Krispy Kreme since I am well on my way to keeping the gain under 25 lbs, my original goal. I don’t really like doughnuts all that much, but I could marry a Krispy Kreme (X, move over!). Anywho - during the appointment, my doctor became concerned that my amniotic fluid was low, so I had an ultrasound this afternoon. Everything looks fine, so it was a minor false alarm. However, I may be in some other sort of trouble. I’ll be damned if during the ultrasound the little Freeloader didn’t take his teensy hands and play with his feet! TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. My heart melted right then and there. Seriously - we had to scoop it up in a cup, so I can put it back in the freezer to get it solid again.

Little shit - I was determined to be the disciplinarian, but if he is going to pull cute tricks like that on me, he may get away with more than I had originally planned. DAMN.

Exactly how red is my neck?

Just when I think I have successfully gotten used to this whole Suburbia Thing, the squirrels come a callin’ and thus, CALL ME OUT.

The Critter Control guy came yesterday to take care of the Squirrel Saga going on in our attic. For whatever reason, I couldn’t help myself, I followed the guy all over the place, asking questions, making observations. In retrospect, I wonder what the guy thought of the crazy pregnant chick who could barely contain her excitement. He immediately trapped one of them and I TOOK A PICTURE. I was laughing so hard and practically dancing in the front yard --- I couldn’t help it! Here we live in this prissy suburb and we have a dead squirrel dangling from our rooftop. LOVE IT. X, on the other hand, was horrified although this was abated a bit when the Critter Guy reported all the damage the squirrels had inflicted that must be repaired. At this point, we are definitely looking at handing over AT LEAST $600 to various folks (HVAC, electrical, Critter Guy) when it is all said and done.

My only regret is that the squirrel wasn’t dangling in full view of our bitchy drunk neighbor - the one who doesn’t like our cat. DAMN......

Squirrel Saga Update: So, the Critter Guy came by early this morning to collect Squirrel #2 dangling from our roof by his flea-infested neck (the squirrel, not the Critter Guy). I just noticed that Squirrel #3 has met his grisly end. This leaves just one more to go. At $60 a pop. Sigh.

All I can say is Die, Squirrel, Die. Fuck PETA. The bastards are a fire hazard and I am unapologetic.

Where is that bitch Cinderella when you really need her?

I had a lovely shower thrown for me by my friends on Saturday. TWO pieces of cheesecake later and a few cups of punch later, I managed to drive myself home without floating off into the sky. I am just not used to that much sugar consumption in one day. The whole thing was exacerbated by the fact that I went to my book club in the evening where cheescake was featured AGAIN. This is where it gets dicey. You see- when I say “cheesecake”, I am not talking any old cheesecake. I am talking AVERAGE JANE's cheesecake. Her homemade, entirely-by-scratch cheesecake is worth the price of admission alone to being her friend (dear reader - don’t be fooled by her good-natured blog, she really is a nasty sort. But she bakes! and cooks! and serves martinis!) Anyway, Sunday was a LONG day - all the junk food consumption from the day prior really took it’s toll on me. I am not a health nut, by any means, but I don’t normally eat so much sugar.

Freeloader Status: Not much is going on. He is still doing his Stretching Thing, instead of his Wiggling Thing or Kicking Thing. I can even discern where his foot is when he does this - that little foot is SO TINY which is simultaneously cool AND creepy all at once and brings home that fact that OH MY GOD, THERE IS A TEENY, TINY HUMAN IN THERE. Yesterday, I did notice that things are definitely happening. For the first time in 9 months, I am getting cramps - akin to menstrual ones which leaves me with this incredible urge to take some Ibuprofin. I am not in labor, but I have had a few painful contractions (a first, for me) - enough to give me the final push to finally pack my bag for the hospital, and to get the iPod and camara to charging. Um, speaking of the hospital. I received a voice mail from my doctor’s offce saying that my appointment scheduled for today needed to be moved because my doctor herself is IN THE HOSPITAL. Good gravy.

Critters in the Attic Redux: At first, I had convinced myself that that all the scurrying and scratching were just birds on the ROOF. You see, my bathroom is in this weird “tower-like” arrangement and there is a conical roof atop it, Because the pitch of the roof is so steep there, when birds are on the roof, it is quite loud. I was led to believe there were animals in the attic LAST YEAR, but thankfully, was WRONG. Unfortunately, this year, there are indeed, monsters in the attic. I have the Critter Control folks coming out today (their name actually IS Critter Control, which is why they are getting my business! LOVE the name.) I tried to see if I could get in the attic, but besides being 9 months pregnant, the attic is SCARY. X, being much, much smarter than I am, refuses to go up there. So, Pay Out the Nose we shall go. Yesterday afternoon, I was so freakin’ irritated by all the commotion that I turned on the attic fan and the silence was blissful. This morning, I awoke to no irritating sounds, either. As I let the cat outside this morning, I noticed things being flung to the ground. I quickly went outside and looked towards the roofline. I saw TWO little heads peering at me. Then another. THEN ANOTHER. It was as suspected. SQUIRRELS. The accountant in me quickly produced a potential tally for our Critter Control folks and was dismayed when I stopped at $400. I guess all I can do is hope that when the Critter Control folks trap a varmint or two, the rest of them will run away never to return - it costs $60 PER animal trapped (plus a base inspection fee). YIKES. I have turned the attic fan back on in the meantime. I have to admit that when I saw the little heads peering out at me, I laughed because it was so funny-looking. However, when I did the Potential Tally, I quickly sobered up.

This ain’t no fucking Disney movie.