Animal Planet

I am a city gal at heart so the sight of a picnic ant or a river rat elicits the same blood curdling scream out of me every time. However, I’m learning that you can’t have that attitude on the mountain top. You can’t be afraid. Critters are a natural part of everyday life. I step outside with a steaming cup of Gevalia and marvel at nature’s goodness. There are chipmunks, woodchucks, squirrels, raccoons, rabbits and even a family of wild turkeys. I delight as they perform nature’s dance in and endless quest for food, water and a date to the prom. Then I step back into my woman cave and all’s right with the world. Wrong!! Nature is wonderful when it’s outdoors but when wildlife moves indoors it’s a different story.
I had only just moved into 1313 Mockingbird Lane when I discovered I was not the only inhabitant but one of many. Yes me and an extended family of mice. Not quiet little mice timidly venturing forth in the darkness so as not to disturb me, but a surly, rude horde of mischief . They let me know, in no uncertain terms, that a pecking order existed and I was low man on the totem pole. I was informed that the cable should be hooked up immediately because they missed Animal Planet and Letterman. They demanded daily computer time to catch up on Facebook. I was routinely given grocery lists and told to keep it low in the am because they liked to sleep in. Well of course I realized that this meant war. Releasing my inner Kraken, I went on line an ordered several essential oils that I knew when applied to cotton balls and strategically placed around the house would mark my territory and banish my unwanted roommates. When the oils arrived I put my diabolical plan into operation and went to bed with the expectation of a new world order awaiting me in the morning. Imagine my surprise when I awoke and discovered "&%$# YOU!" spelled out in cotton balls across the living room rug. I knew I needed help.
In my next post you will meet big Red, the world's largest orange tabby and the greatest mouser in New York state history! See you then.

Life Among The Ruins Deux

I should explain the title: Life Among the Ruins. I live in a big old 19th century house. It's somewhat dilapidated and not unlike the building Mary Hatch and George Bailey chuck stones at in "It's a Wonderful Life", (since they eventually move into the same building, one is reminded of the saying about not pooing where you eat). Big old houses make strange creepy noises at all hours. The sad thing is that most of these noises are coming out of me. Toes curl, knees crack, eyeballs click, elbows snap. In my mind I'm eighteen then I look in the mirror and scream OMG, what have you done w/Jennifer you crazy haired hag?! Bring her back unharmed and I promise I won't go to the authorities. So you see, the house is a macrocosm of myself.

Well I'm off to shovel snow in order to emancipate my mailbox.

Life Among The Ruins

After living in cities as varied as New York, Boston and Los Angeles, I've opted for a quieter life nestled in the mountains of upstate New York. Does this city gal have what it takes to live a rural life? Will I greet the dawn with the vigor of Olivia Walton? Or, will I stand in my kitchen shaking my fist and cursing in Hungarian like Lisa Douglas? Time will tell...