Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I May Never Learn

Remember how I said that my love of animals was turning into a problem?

Um, yeah.

My bestest friend in the whole wide world and I went into town the other day. We had her kids with us (for the life of me I can't remember where my kids were) and we drove my Suburban. We took some stuff to the dump and stopped at the grocery store. The grocery store, pharmacy and doctor's clinic are all together in a strip mall sort of setup. I waited in the truck with all of the kids while Emily went into the store.

Just a few minutes after Emily disappeared into the store, I noticed Shawna from the pharmacy come out of the pharmacy door and look behind the garbage can that was up against the wall. She turned and said something to someone who was standing there and I thought I heard the word "kitten."

Let me take a moment to explain something about myself that you may or may not know. I love animals of all kinds. I can't think of a creature that I am not interested in at least seeing, and maybe touching or holding. If you said "Look! There's a fire-breathing poison-oozing triple-fanged slime demon in my underwear drawer!" I'd probably want to go take a look. Not all people are this way. Some people shudder at the mere mention of the word "snake" or "spider" or "puppy". So naturally, when I thought I heard "kitten" I was intrigued, especially because it was weird for there to be an animal at the pharmacy. It really shouldn't be too strange to have animals show up in town, when the word "town" describes a population of less than 5,000. My husband helped Fish and Game catch a moose on the football field two summers ago. But I digress.

Upon hearing that there was a sweet little kitten behind the garbage can, I immediately jumped out of my vehicle to investigate. Apparently I am a slow learner, if you consider what happened the last time I had an encounter with a kitten. I approached Shawna and asked her what was behind the garbage can. She said that it was a snake. A snake? How did I hear "kitten" instead of "snake?" Moving beyond my poor hearing, I was intrigued. A snake? At the pharmacy? I wish my kids were here. They would think that this was so awesome! I decided to catch the snake and take it home to show my kids. Maybe they could even keep it as a pet, as Mike's snake tank had been vacated by the previous occupant, Steve the corn snake.

I procured a box and with the help of the owner of the pharmacy, corralled the snake into the box. We took the box inside and taped it shut. When I walked back outside, Emily was in the Suburban. I put the box in the back and climbed into the driver's seat.

"What's in the box, Jules?"

"You don't want to know." You see, my bestest friend in the whole wide world does not like snakes. If there is a snake in the road and her car drives over it, she will scream and lift her feet off of the floor. I know. I've seen it happen.

Then I decided that I could maybe have a little fun with her. So I told her what was in the box.

"YOU PUT A SNAKE IN THE CAR THAT I'M IN? IN THIS CAR?!?!"

"Calm down. It's in a very securely taped box."

We stopped at the convenience store for a soda and some treats for the kids and then we headed home, a drive of about seven or eight miles.

The entire drive was peppered with comments like "I have never hated you as much as I hate you now" and "If anyone were to ask me who my best friend is right now, it's definitely not you."

I hadn't gotten a very good look at the snake, but it didn't appear to be very long, maybe a foot and a half or so. Again, I took advantage of my friend's phobia, as any good friend would.

"It's only three feet long."

"YOU PUT A THREE-FOOT-LONG SNAKE IN THIS CAR?!?!"

To which my answer was a giggle.

When we arrived at Emily's house, everyone piled out of the car and headed inside, except for me. I was going to mow the lawn, and I decided to take the box with the snake out of the car and put it under the Suburban so that it wouldn't get baked in the sun while I was mowing. When I picked up the box, however, it was considerably lighter. A quick peek inside confirmed my suspicion. There was a snake loose in my Suburban.

Oh, crap.

Looking at and holding a snake in a controlled environment is one thing, but having one slither up my pant-leg while I'm driving is a completely different can of worms. I had to find that snake before I did anything else. I didn't want to open the doors and just hope it went on its merry way back outside. I had to see it removed from my car. I started pulling things out of the Suburban; car seats, blankets, a tarp. Emily walked back out of her house to find the contents of my vehicle on her lawn.

"What are you doing?"

I gestured to the box. "It's empty."

"THE SNAKE IS OUT OF THE BOX?!?!"

Emily tends to talk in red all caps like that when she's mad. She took one step toward me and then said "What am I doing? I was coming to help you look for it but I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and I'll go over if I take another step." She disappeared back inside the house and I continued to systematically disassemble my car.

My dog, Spanky, in the meantime, had been sniffing around up in the front seat of the car. He was checking out all of the air vents underneath the dash and he was whining and pacing like something was wrong. I just knew that the snake had made its way up to the front and was now in the air ducts of my car.

Awesome.

I called my husband, who told me that he couldn't leave work to help me find a renegade snake. So I called my friend Scott, who works at a mechanic's shop. I explained to him what had happened and that I thought that it was now in the ventilation system, which was beyond my capabilities to take apart. He told me that he would see if Bradley would come help me. Bradley is the teenage son of one of the owners of the shop and he works there a few days a week. Bradley also loves snakes and has several of them as pets.

He sounded like exactly what I needed - a snake charmer mechanic.

When Bradley showed up, Emily and her kids sat a safe distance away on the lawn to watch the show. He and I discussed where the snake might be. He thought that the air vents were unlikely. After several more minutes of fruitless searching, our eyes fell on the spare tire at the same time. It is bolted to the side of the cargo area and has a carpet cover with a zippered front. I had already unzipped the cover and patted down the tire, but we decided to take the tire completely off.

Guess what we found?




A three foot long bull snake.




I let Bradley take it with him. I'd had enough snake excitement for one day.



Emily and I are still friends, but I don't think she's completely forgiven me.

I'm not sure if she ever will.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

I Won!

I think that I'm totally awesome. Why? Because I won a humor/crazy contest and I am now officially the insane, edgy member of the NMH Riot Squad.

What the crap am I talking about? This!

http://mormonhusbands.blogspot.com/2009/06/riot-squad-announced-now-go-burn.html

Really, it wasn't fair. I do have a bit of an edge when it comes to the crazy.

But still....

I WON!

Wow.

I know of no other words. Once you make it past 60 seconds into this, you too will have no words.

Minions of the Devil Come In Many Different Guises

My love for animals is beginning to turn into a serious problem.

Last week, when visiting the Wards, I noticed that they had a litter of three little kitties frolicking about. The kittens must have been around 4-6 weeks in age, just at the really cute stage where they bounce everywhere and play with everything. I thought that it would be fun to catch one and introduce Adam to the world of cute kittens. They were pretty wild, however, so my attempts at kitten trapping were fruitless.

Then a few days later we were at the Ward's house again. We didn't leave until it was dark and as we opened the door I saw two kittens scramble off of the porch while the other one froze just inches from my foot. I exclaimed "Kitties!", reached down with my left hand and seized the kitten around its ribcage. It was at this point that the cat morphed into a crazed demon monster. It was hissing, growling and spitting from the front end and trying to disembowel me from both the front and back ends. I wisely decided that putting the animal down would be prudent so I reached in with my right hand to steady the fiend as I lowered it to the ground. The kitten (and I use the word 'kitten' only in the most technical of manners) seized the opportunity to attempt to eviscerate me. It clamped its tiny yet needle-sharp fangs onto my thumb. I felt four small teeth puncture my skin. I then decided that I no longer cared about the safety and comfort of my attacker and released my grip. I was shocked to find that the kitten was still dangling from my hand by its freaking teeth!

At some point during all of the commotion, I began to make inhuman noise of panic and suffering, which alerted my conscientious husband to my situation. He assisted me by producing his own noises - howls of laughter.

Finally, the little demon released its hold on me and I retreated to the safety of our car with Morgan and Adam. I could feel my pulse in my thumb, the pain throbbing in time with my heart beat. We made the short drive home with Morgan still laughing and me alternating between laughing and crying. I was bleeding and it hurt!

I soaked my thumb in peroxide and applied liberal amounts of antibiotic ointment. I suffered only a few days of a sore thumb and now I'm left with four small scabs where the feline's teeth punctured my skin. It's funny now, just as it was funny then, but I'm reminded that not all animals love me like I love them.

In addition, I'm grateful that it was dark and Adam was unable to see what was going on. If he had, he would probably be scarred for life and carry an extreme aversion to cute fluffy kitties.



Do not be deceived. "Basket of Evil" could very well be a fitting title for the above image.


***After posting this last night and reading it again this morning, I've decided that the above picture really isn't all that misleading. Check out that cat on the right. He might as well be wearing a "Hello. My name is Beelzebub" sticker.

In the immortal words of Sammy the Cocker Spaniel: "Catsth - Yuck!"

Saturday, June 20, 2009

A Plethora of Pictures

Some pictures of the fun goings-on with us and our friends.


Four little monkeys in the tub.




Handsome Jack and his Mommy.




You can take the farmer off of the farm....




He's crawling! Heaven help us.




Me. Just realized that I have almost no pictures of me because I'm usually behind the camera.




Just discovered the tongue. Love this stage!



Handsome hubby with his goofy mustache.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Yes, Another One

A few of you are aware of the recent upheaval in my life. Most of you are not. I feel that it is important for me to share my experience, but because of the nature I have chosen to start a new blog specifically for this reason.

I will tell you upfront that it is a heavy subject, one that I am very hesitant to talk about. I want to keep Blissful Bedlam a fun, upbeat sort of place and that is another reason I have started a new blog.

If you promise to be nice, you can see what I'm talking about at http://dontcallmeadramaqueen.blogspot.com/, but you have to make the promise first. If you don't promise to be nice, the link won't work.

See you there.

Or not, if you're a mean, judgmental sort of person.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

In Which We Explore the Proper Use of Homonyms

Morgan has a few of these brush tees that he likes to use when he is golfing.




He and Joe were out in the backyard the other day, hitting some balls into the farmer's field, so the tees were still out on the counter. (Things don't get put away in our house for days, even weeks sometimes. That's just how we roll.) Adam was looking at the tees and he held one up and said "Ball?" Not thinking about my response at all, I said, "Yep. Those are for Daddy's balls." I cringed after I said it, but figured that a two-year-old doesn't understand double meanings.

Then I heard Noel pipe up. "Oh. Those balls."

Having a nine-year-old brother and a father that acts like a nine-year-old brother, Noel is no stranger to double meanings.