Friday, May 22nd, 2009
It’s that time of year again. Time to take a whole bunch of pictures of the baby birds living under the porch and see which ones come out okay.
I was wondering if these bird families were going to come back this year. Well, they are probably new families, but you get the picture. We have three nests under the porch (two are occupied) and one in the front of the house in a small pine tree. The two occupied nests under the porch have baby chicks and the nest in the front of the house has four little eggs. They are really cool.
Take a look at the photos.
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American Robin (Turdus migratorius) chicks in birds nest under porch
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Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) chicks in birds nest under porch
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Empty birds nest under porch
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House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) eggs in birds nest in small pine tree
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Thursday, May 21st, 2009
On Saturday, while driving around Glastonbury with my parents, we accidentally came across a local farm. We love these local farms because we never know what we are going to find in them. Since we were with my parents, I decided to pull in. I thought they would get a kick out of it.
As we started walking around, I got the strange sense that I was going to have to soon pull out my wallet. It’s funny…the same thing always happens. I think we are just going to take a nice stroll through these places, but later on find myself loading up the back of the car with all different types of plants.
This time wasn’t too bad. We bought a few packets of seeds; Cucumber, Squash, Beans and Zucchini. We bought anything that can be planted in late Spring. I really wanted the Peas, but the lady told me that Peas like cool weather and that I was too late to plant this year. Yesterday, I planted what we bought in some 5-gallon buckets on the back porch.
The seeds were exciting, but the real champ of the day was our award winning Everbearing Strawberry Plants. We bought this huge hanging planter with three Everbearing Strawberry Plants planted in it. We currently have the whole thing hanging on the back porch.
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Everbearing Strawberry Plants
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Growing Strawberries and Strawberry flowers
From what I read about Strawberry plants, it’s good to plant three near each other. That way, they can get sufficiently pollinated.
You have to see this thing; it’s huge. There are so many flowers and Strawberries that are beginning to grow. While purchasing this plant, I asked if it was a perennial. The lady told me that it was an annual, but that it’s everbearing, meaning that it produces fruit the entire season. I found that appealing, since we really like Strawberries.
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Tuesday, April 7th, 2009
There are two lessons I have learned about shrubs that I would like to share with you.
1. Only plant Boxwood.
2. Only plant in the spring.
There you have it. Now, let me tell you what the heck I am talking about.
I know I have probably said this before and have trouble following my own advice, but I really mean it this time. I am only going to plant Boxwood from now on. No matter how “deer resistant” you think a shrub is, it probably isn’t. Everybody says that Holly is deer resistant. Guess what? It isn’t. Deer like to nibble on the ends of the branches. It drives me up a wall. I had to go out today to pick up some of that deer netting to put over the Holly bushes. As far as I know, Boxwood is the only shrub that’s deer resistant (well, besides Juniper), and I am going on personal experience here. I have never had a deer nibble on any boxwood shrub I have ever planted. Everything else…yeah.
The next lesson has to do with when to plant your shrubs. I have planted in both spring and fall, but spring planting works out much better, in my opinion. See, if you plant in the spring, the plant has time to grow and mature its sensitive little twigs that were over-fertilized by the nursery. All that new growth has time during the growing season to harden up. If you plant in the autumn, all that new growth dies. Period. It just does. Those nights in mid-January that offer us those wonderfully chilly sub-zero temperatures do a wonder on new shrubs. I have about six Boxwood shrubs sitting outside in the dirt right now with dead top halves. It’s pretty funny to look at. Top half brown, bottom half green. The good thing is that I expect these plants to take off this year and will most likely grown right through the dead areas.
Okay, since Home Depot had Boxwood shrubs in stock and it’s spring, I decided to grab a few today. Actually, I grabbed eight of them. I am going to plant three of them in that new mulch area next to the driveway and five of them in a row almost under the porch in the back yard. They are going to look really cool when they grow larger.
Oh, and just in case you were wondering, the Green Velvet Boxwood is “a hybrid of Korean Boxwood (for hardiness and compactness) and Common Boxwood (for excellent leaf color in both summer and winter).” You can read the rest of the description here.
Here is what I bought today.
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Green Velvet Boxwood
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Buxus Green Boxwood plant label from Home Depot
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Common Boxwood label from Home Depot
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Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009
I am going to tell you a little story. Yeah, I thought you would appreciate that, especially since things have been a little dry around here lately. First, I must apologize for not offering any photos of the occasion. Laura has been swearing to me that she took pictures of the whole thing and that I have them somewhere. I don’t know what she is talking about. I can’t find them and I have no recollection of taking them. The best I can do is to paint a mental picture for you, because trust me, the mental picture I have is very vivid.
Okay, let’s go.
A long, long time ago (about 5 years), we lived in a small lake cottage a few blocks from a small lake in New York. It was a tiny, but cute rental. We lived there for three fairly uneventful years. I can still remember the night we arrived at this particular house. We had just driven 5 hours from all the way up in Naples, NY and were totally beat. About an hour before we arrived at the house, I was forced to stop short in the middle of the road while driving the huge moving truck I had rented. I was sitting there with my eyes wide open, reading the big sign on an overpass in front of me that read, “Maximum Height – 11′9″.” Unfortunately, I was driving a truck that was 12′3″. I guess that wouldn’t have been all too bad if I wasn’t towing my car on one of those two wheeled tow dollies. With all those pivot points, backing up wasn’t an option. Even better, I was facing downhill and it was pitch black outside. Let’s just say that it took a good long time to get that situation squared away and there were some mildly annoyed fellow drivers. It was not one of my best memories. I can only imagine how many times I was called an “idiot” that night.
Anyway, we eventually made it to the house, which was good. We parked the truck on the road and slept the night away, only to unpack the next day. Things were fine for about two years.
It was a beautiful sunny spring day. I was walking out to my car on my way to work when I turned around to check out the house, like I always do. It’s just a habit of mine. Well, on this particular day, everything looked fine, except for that small hole in the corner of an attic vent that was facing the street. It was up near the peak of the roof on the front of the house. I thought to myself that I had never really noticed that hole before, but was pretty sure that it had always been like that. Besides, this was a rental; it wasn’t my place to give daily inspections of the building’s exterior. I went to work and forgot all about it.
Upon returning home that evening, I did my thing inside and then grabbed a beer. I remember having no shirt on and walking to the mailbox to get the mail. Just as I got about half way across the front yard, a pickup truck rolled down the road and stopped right in front of me. The guy opened his passenger side window and starts telling me something in an excited kind of way. “Hey man, you got a raccoon living in your attic,” he said. I replied with a, “What?” “Yeah, I was driving down the road this afternoon and I saw a huge raccoon crawling through the little hole in your vent. I have no idea how she got in there because the hole is so small, but I sat here for a good 10 minutes watching her. She finally got through after a while,” he replied. I said thank you and started devising a plan on how to patch up that hole in the vent. I mean seriously, how hard can it be to keep a giant raccoon out of your attic?
Well, let me just tell you that it is a little trickier than one would think.
Before the kind fellow with the pickup truck even made it to the corner of the street, I already had the mail in my hand and was walking across the backyard looking for a piece of plywood. I was going to cut it to size and screw it to the 2″x4″ beams from inside the attic.
Picture this – standing on a table in your living room to push open a small trap door that leads up to a tiny attic in a tiny lake cottage. That’s really not that bad. Now, picture doing this while thinking that an enormous raccoon is sitting up in that attic just waiting to see the whites of your eyes. It’s a little unnerving. The problem was, I had no idea if the raccoon was up there or not. It was the early evening, so I was hoping she was out gathering some food. You know, just as I began pushing that little trap door open, I remembered that I did hear some strange noises a few nights earlier coming from up above me. I just chalked it up to some branches hitting the roof or something.
Laura was in the living room holding my legs as I jimmied up through the trap door. You should have seen my head whipping around in every direction I could think of. There were no lights up there and I was totally freaking out. As every second passed by, I kept expecting to hear a “whoosh” and have 20 claws and something furry attach to my face. As it turned out, the raccoon wasn’t even up there. She must have been outside doing something. I shined the flashlight that Laura handed me all over the place and saw nothing, so I slipped through the hole in the ceiling to screw the piece of plywood over the vent at the front of the house. I was totally confident that this raccoon wouldn’t get through this rock solid piece of wood and that our little raccoon problem was solved.
That night, around midnight, I heard a “bang, bang.” I woke up and started looking around. I walked to the front of the house and heard, “scratch, bang bang.” I really had no idea what in the world was going on, but my adrenaline was pumping and I was ready for anything. I kept hearing this noise as I was standing at the front door and it was coming from above my head. I walked back into the bedroom to grab the flashlight. I opened the front door and walked out to the front yard. As I shined the flashlight up towards the roof, I immediately saw two beady little eyes staring at me. Apparently, the raccoon was trying to scratch, rip, tear and push her way through the vent to get back inside the attic. I stood there in disbelief.
I went back inside to get some clothes on. I kept wondering why in the world this raccoon wouldn’t let this go. Why was she being so stubborn? I went back outside and started yelling at the raccoon, in an attempt to scare her away. All she did was look at me and continued to try to get through the vent. At this point, I was getting annoyed and wanted to end this adventure. I walked to the back porch, grabbed the garden hose and hooked it up. I turned it on and dragged it to the front yard. Now, Laura was standing there and was manning the flashlight. I started spraying the raccoon with the water and she ran across the roof towards the back of the house. I looked at Laura and gave her a smile. No raccoon was going to ruin my beauty sleep. We went back inside to crawl back under the covers.
About 10 minutes later, I heard the same “bang, bang, bang” and sprung to my feet. I am not even going to tell you what we did, because it’s basically a repetition of what we did just 10 minutes before. This time, I went outside and chased the raccoon all over the place, but she just kept trying to get back in that vent. I had enough. I really didn’t know what to do, so we went back inside and lay awake for the rest of the night.
When it was light out again, I went outside to see what kind of damage the raccoon did to the vent. There were a few more cracks in it, but nothing too drastic. I didn’t see the raccoon anywhere, so I held out hope that what we did to her the night before taught her a lesson. If she didn’t want to experience getting sprayed by a hose again, she would find a new home.
I went back inside, got ready for work and left.
That evening, when I got home from work, I found the house and vent exactly as I had left it. I felt very happy that I beat the raccoon at her own game. Laura and I sat around until it got dark, chatted a bit and decided that I would go out to grab some Chinese food to celebrate. You know, it’s the little things in life.
I will remember this conversation for the rest of my days. As I was getting out of the car in the Chinese food place parking lot down the road, my phone started ringing. The caller ID said, “Home” on it, which surprised me. Laura never called my cell phone from home. I answered the phone and I was greeted by a flustered female voice telling me that something was screaming up in the attic. It was Laura and she was jumping from one thought to the next. She said that either we had 20 birds up in the attic, or there were BABY RACCOONS!!! Holy man oh man. Baby raccoons? No wonder that lady raccoon was trying to get back in the attic so badly. I ran into the Chinese restaurant, paid for the food and ran back out to drive home faster than I was supposed to. I figured I should still get the food, even during a time of crisis.
When I pulled in the driveway and got out of the car, I heard a faint squealing. As I got closer and eventually entered the house, the squealing got louder. When I stood in the middle of the living room, the squealing was really loud and right above my head. I put my hands to my face and wondered what in the world I was going to do. It was dark outside and I was really tired from getting no sleep the night before. One thing was for sure; I wasn’t going to live through another night of that momma raccoon banging on the side of the house. Add the squealing of hungry baby raccoons in the attic, and I was ready to move out.
Within a few minutes, I had devised a plan. I would go outside, climb up on the roof and pull the vent down. Then, I would go up in the attic and unscrew the piece of plywood that was blocking the mother raccoon from getting to her babies. This way, the big raccoon would be able to get in the attic to feed her babies and they would shut up. Also, she wouldn’t need to tear at the vent any longer and I would get a good night’s sleep.
I informed Laura that we were going to be getting into some hairy stuff here, so she better be at her finest. She was going to man the garden hose. I walked around to the back of the house, grabbed the step ladder and the hose and brought both up to the front of the house. I handed Laura the hose. She already had the flashlight in her hand. Her job was to spray the mother raccoon if she showed up while I was pulling off the vent. Her other job was to shine the flashlight at what I was working on, so I could see what I was going. It was quite dark up on that roof.
I climbed up on top of the porch and pointed out what I wanted Laura to shine the light at and she did. I began working the vent off the front of the house, while constantly looking below me to see if the mother raccoon was climbing up the porch beams. If I saw the raccoon climbing up, I was going to throw myself off the roof. I know, I know…not a good plan, but I had limited options. Plus, my heart was beating a mile a minute.
Things were going pretty well. I was tugging on the vent and talking to Laura at the same time. I said, “Do you see any sign of the raccoon?” She replied with a, “No.” I was a bit neurotic that night, so I kept on asking Laura if she saw the raccoon. She kept answering, “No” and I was sensing a little annoyance in her voice. I didn’t care, because she wasn’t the one on the roof who was going to get tackled by a crazy raccoon who was trying to protect her young.
I was almost finished getting the vent off the front of the house and I heard the faintest scratch above my head. I shot a glare down at Laura who was standing there pointing the flashlight at me and holding a garden hose. She looked so cute; poor kid. I said in the quietest voice ever, “Sweet doll, please shine the flashlight above my head.”
She did.
I slowly looked up.
About a foot above my head was the mother of all mother raccoons, staring right into my eyes. She was standing on the peak of the roof above me. “HOLY FREAKING MOTHER,” I screamed. Luckily, I had a bit of wit about me and I ran for the ladder instead of jumping off the roof. I climbed down the ladder at record speed and ran to the front lawn to stand next to Laura. I had to jump up and down to shed some of the shakes and adrenaline off of me. “MAN,” I started saying, as we watched the raccoon climb down to inspect the vent. “I have to get that vent off of there or we are never going to hear the end of this,” I said to Laura.
New plan – Laura would spray the raccoon to keep her away from me as I finished getting the vent down. She did and I did. The vent was off. You should have seen that raccoon trying to get to that vent while I was working on it though. Laura showed her good aim that night.
The next thing I had to do was to go up in the attic and unscrew the plywood I put up the day before. This was going to be a little trickier because now I knew there were going to be animals up in that attic with me, as well as a fully grown raccoon on the other side of that plywood.
I crawled up into the attic again. I had my screw gun and a flashlight and was ready to go to work. I made my way to the front of the house, while constantly looking around for those baby raccoons. I didn’t have any idea how big they were, so I was pretty nervous. When I got all the way up to the plywood, I heard some sounds coming from my left, under the overhang of the roof. I shined the flashlight over there, but didn’t see anything. I grabbed a piece of scrap wood that was laying on the floor and pushed some insulation away from the beams. Right then and there, I saw four of the cutest little raccoon heads pop up and look at me. I don’t think they wanted the light shining in their faces, but seeing them sitting there changed the whole dynamic of what I was doing. I softened up and my mission turned from one of war to one of rescue. They looked so helpless. Since they weren’t about to go anywhere and obviously weren’t any threat to me, I started slowly unscrewing the plywood.
(The above video is not of the actual baby raccoons, but of imposters.)
As I was almost finished with the last screw, I lost my silly little grin. I remembered the beast sitting on the other side of the wall with a very determined mindset. I knew what I had to do.
I held the plywood hard against the beams and finished taking out the screw. I held the screw gun in my hand and picked up the flashlight with the same hand. The plan was to move as far as I could away from the board, while still holding it. Then, I was going to run and jump through the hole in the floor back to the living room. After that, I was going to slide the trap door board back over the hole, so the beast couldn’t follow me down through the ceiling.
If you have never seen a grown man scream like a little girl and run across about 15 beams of an unfinished attic and jump through a hole in the floor, you are a lucky person. If you are that grown man, you’re not so lucky. After I jumped through the hole, I landed on the table and slipped off it to land on the floor (on my back). I had to quickly scurry up to put that board back in place before we had one extra mammal living with us. I got the board back in place and ran outside to see if the raccoon went through the hole.
Apparently, Laura had the same idea and gave me a full report as I met her on the front lawn. She said that the minute I let that board down, the raccoon flew through the hole. I remember standing there and how good I felt. It was like I just won the lottery. Then, I remember thinking about how we now had five raccoons in the attic instead of just one. It felt like someone just took all my lottery money away from me.
It was time for a real plan…a plan that would solve the problem.
Laura used to work with animals and had access to really heavy duty animal handling gloves. They were about three feet long and about a half inch thick. These gloves were meant to hold down a mountain lion. If the mountain lion bit, you probably wouldn’t feel it. Okay, you would feel it, but the teeth wouldn’t go through your arm. Okay, maybe they would, but these gloves were really heavy duty.
My plan was to wait until mid afternoon when the mother raccoon was out for the day. Then, I would go up into the attic and screw the piece of plywood back to cover up the gaping vent hole. I would capture each baby raccoon and put them into a cat carrier that we had hanging around. After that, put the cat carrier outside and just wait for momma to come back.
That was the plan and I must say that I executed it perfectly the next day. I think the worst part was that the attic was about 150 degrees then and moving the insulation around covered my bare top half with sweat and fiberglass. It was pretty terrible.
You really should have seen it. I was like a professional animal handler. With the exposed baby raccoons looking at me and the cat carrier open and ready to hold the animals, it was show time. I put the gloves on and started reaching back into the corner of the attic. I grabbed the first baby raccoon and put it in the carrier. You should really see the claws on these raccoons. They are very long and really stick on everything they touch. I can only imagine wrestling with a full grown one. No thank you.
The first three raccoons went into the carrier without incident. The fourth one gave me a little problem. I am assuming that this last raccoon was the big brother of the bunch, because he kept trying to go deeper and deeper into the corner of the attic. He was hissing and being very aggressive. Eventually, he saw things my way and was placed into the cat carrier with the rest of his siblings. Another thing you should have seen was how much fun I had while trying to place each baby raccoon into the cat carrier while there was already one in there. Each time I opened the carrier door, the raccoon that was in there tried to climb out. It was crazy.
After I got the last little devil in the carrier, I beamed a great big smile. I kept the plywood over the vent hole, picked up the carrier and slid through the hole in the ceiling to enter the living room. I walked the carrier outside and sat it down in the shade at the side of the house. I kept the carrier locked, because I didn’t want any baby raccoons walking around without the protection of their mother.
I am sure you can imagine the excitement on Laura’s face when she got home from work that day and I showed her a cage full of baby raccoons. I’m not sure which she was excited more about, not having to deal with the “raccoons in the attic” issue any longer or getting an up close look at these little cuties. She asked what I was going to do with them. I answered that I was going to leave them there just like they were and wait until the mother raccoon returned to get them. We were certain she would be back.
A few hours passed and we were watching TV in the bedroom when we heard something outside tampering with the cat carrier. We ran out there to see what was going on. Well, low and behold, the mother raccoon was tossing the cat carrier around, trying to get it open. She wanted to get at those babies badly. I tried to walk over to open the carrier, but the mother raccoon lunged at me. Okay, obviously our mutual understanding of not harming one another was over. We were enemies once again.
Since I wanted to get this ordeal behind us and I wanted this raccoon family to reunite, I ran to the back of the house again to grab the hose. I came back and handed it to Laura again, with the same instructions. “Spray the raccoon while I open the carrier,” I said. Laura started spraying the raccoon and she backed up into the neighbor’s driveway. Each time I went over to attempt to open the carrier, the raccoon ignored the water and lunged at me. Laura had to keep getting closer to spray the mother raccoon harder. Eventually, I got the cage open and took off. Big momma ran in there and grabbed the first baby. She raced up the willow tree across the street and placed the baby in a “V.” Laura and I walked inside to give her some peace and privacy.
About five minutes later, we walked back outside to see if the mother got any more babies. We were surprised to see an empty cat carrier sitting on the ground. Man, she was fast. We would be resting easy that night.
The next morning, I walked across the street and looked up into the “V” where the raccoons were placed and noticed four small heads looking down at me. What a sight.
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Wednesday, January 28th, 2009
Throughout this winter, I have been putting together a short mental list of things I am going to tackle once the good weather arrives. I thought I might share that list with you, partly to entertain you and partly to remind me what in the world I had on my mental list once I have the urge to do some of these things.
EXTERIOR:
1. Order tons of pine trees from ArborDay.org and plant them all over the place.
2. Get the lawn in order.
3. Begin work on Laura’s garden. Need fencing and shrubs.
4. Clean out under porch. Take nails out of 2×4s and stack somewhere else so they are hidden. Throw out vinyl lattice (unless of course you want it).
5. Order more pellets to restock basement for next year.
6. Repair driveway again from this winter’s damage.
7. Admire mailbox.
8. Order 30 yards of mulch.
9. Mulch front garden and top off last year’s mulch.
10. Enlarge garden in front to include those 3 large rocks. Mulch that too.
INTERIOR:
1. Finish painting upstairs bedroom.
2. Remove carpet and tile from downstairs (main floor) and install tile over the whole area.
3. Paint downstairs (main floor).
4. Continue wondering how difficult it would be to replace suspended ceiling in basement with sheetrock.
5. Continue fantasizing about turning the laundry room into a giant bathroom with a giant bathtub and a giant shower.
6. Finish painting upstairs.
Wow, that’s quite a list. Am I going to get all these things done this spring? Heck no. I think I might be able to get those pine trees though. I am getting tired just looking at that list.
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Saturday, January 10th, 2009
I have often said that my life has turned into one big blog post. That’s either really good or really pitiful. Depends on what kind of mood I’m in. I would say that it is good more than not.
You know, it’s not easy waking up every morning thinking of things to write about. It’s a snap during the spring, summer and fall. I mean, during those seasons, I have dozens of things to discuss. I think my record is 7 posts in one day last summer. To me, that’s exciting. To other people, that may be a bit absurd, but still, I think it’s fun.
During the warm months, I am outside all the time, either working or driving around. Flowers are blooming and everything is growing. We start walking in the woods again and we go to all sorts of exciting places.
Just this afternoon, we were discussing all the adventures we would like to have this summer. Laura wants to go whale watching. I keep saying, “What? Whaling?” I give a little chuckle and she belts me one. I really should watch what I say more often. Okay, seriously, we’ll probably go whale watching this summer. I also want to find a cheap canoe on the internet for sale. Either that, or we’ll rent one. Whatever happens, I want to go canoeing too. I just need to find the best spot to go. I sure wish someone would come out and tell me, instead of us driving all around looking. “Hey Jay, go over here. That’s where everyone goes.” That would be nice.
Spring has flowers, summer has lawns, autumn has leaves to write about. What does winter have? I really try to do my best, but sometimes I get “blogger’s block.” I just made that up. Okay, wait a second. I just typed “Blogger’s block” into Yahoo! and a whole bunch of sites came up. What’s with that? I guess I didn’t make it up. If you are battling blogger’s block and want some tips to get over it, you can read here.
One of the things I try to do to get over my block is to go for a walk. That usually loosens my mind up. If I just sat at the computer all day, I would have zero ideas. By getting outside and walking, I look around and do a lot of talking. The things I look at and the conversation I have usually bubbles something to the surface that I can bring inside and share with you. That’s good, but there are still those days…
I have had strange ideas of traveling, simply to write about it. I think of how weird that would be, but then I think a little harder and realize that people do that all day long. It’s called being in the newspaper and magazine business. I am sure I could do it for myself, but if anyone ever held me accountable, I think I would fall apart. I’m no good with creative pressure.
I’ll make you a deal; as long as you keep reading, I’ll keep waking up, thinking of things to write about. If it ever gets really bad and I can’t think of something to write, I’ll start taking suggestions. Until then, hagoone’.
By the way, did I mention it’s snowing again?
Snowing on porch
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Friday, December 26th, 2008
We did it. We really did it. For the first time in our lives, we didn’t exchange Christmas gifts. It was a bold (and more difficult than expected) move, but one that we thought we needed to do.
If you haven’t noticed, the exchanging of Christmas gifts has…well, lost something throughout the years. I notice it more and more as time goes on. Throughout each year, we seem to take quite good care of ourselves, which leaves little to be desired towards the holiday seasons. Instead of falling into the cyclical trap again this year, we decided that it would be best to enjoy a relaxing evening together. No presents, no stress, no guilt. All we wanted was to go someplace nice for a quiet dinner to talk amongst ourselves.
That is exactly what we did.
Last night, I decided to make this one of those really long posts. When I woke up this morning, I felt the same way. There really is so much to write. As I sit now typing away, I think I am going to cut it short. The reason I am going to do this is because I have quite a few pictures, and I don’t really want to dilute my message; the message about our dinner. Perhaps I will discuss our trip through Southbury, Woodbury and Washington another day. I’ll still include the few photos I took of those areas in this post though.
Okay, so we took off around 4PM for our 6PM reservation at the Mayflower Inn in Washington, CT. Washington, CT is probably most famous for the Mayflower Inn and the Gunnery. The Gunnery is a private 9-12 private school and is located across the street from the Mayflower. When I look at the area on Live Maps, I always confuse the two, because of the similar architecture of their main buildings.
The ride was pretty non-eventful getting out of the Hartford area. One thing I did notice was a ski mountain that I never knew existed. It’s right next to where 691 intersects with Interstate 84. I’ll have to find out the name to that one. We made it through Waterbury and got off the Southbury (Rt.6) exit.
Now, this drives Laura absolutely nuts. A long time ago, we drove over to Southbury, CT to check out a motorcycle I thought I wanted to buy. It was dark outside, but the location has been festering in my mind ever since. The area was really nice and I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. We drove around a bit last night, but I could tell that I was boring my lady, so I stopped the search. This all happened on our way back, so we were probably more interested in getting one the highway anyway.
Either way, the Southbury, Woodbury, Washington area is really fun to drive through. Woodbury is antique central and offers those great sidewalks that sit back from the road. It’s a great walking town and is truly New England. It sort of reminds me of Ridgefield, CT. Washington is situated so far back in the woods, it actually hard to find. If you are wealthy and privacy is your middle name, Washington is your town.
We have been to Washington many times, but have never taken Washington Road from Woodbury to get there. Let me tell you, it was quite the trip. At one point, I didn’t think the mountain we were climbing would ever end. It doesn’t matter which way you get there (from New Milford, Brookfield, New Preston or Woodbury), you are bound to drive through some pretty tight roads. The darkness of winter doesn’t help much. The good part about the trip is that when you finally arrive, it is usually a pleasant surprise. It never gets old and there is always something new to discover.
We pulled in the parking lot of the Mayflower Inn at about 5:20PM. I snagged a sweet parking spot right up front and we climbed out of the car to head inside. The first thing I did once we got out of the car was to pull out the camera. I took a quick shot of the walkway going up to the spa.
What’s very nice about the Mayflower is the service. I don’t think we have ever been there and haven’t had the front door opened for us. Although, all of the “Hello”s, “Merry Christmas”s and “Can I get you something”s puts me a little on edge. It is really very welcoming, but being the home town boy that I am, I am just used to doing it myself. It’s still hard for me to let anyone do anything for me, even if it is their job.
Since we were a bit early, we decided to head straight for the library. I mentioned my love for the library in one of my previous posts. I’m not sure what it is exactly, but I’m sure the fireplace, warm colors and cozy seat below the large window helps. I took a few pictures of it, since I knew you would be just dying to see what I am talking about.
Me, looking all spiffy
My favorite seat - under the window
Looking in the library from the porch
It felt great to relax in there for a little while. The best part was that no one in the entire inn came into the library when we were there, before and after dinner.
After checking out some books for a few minutes, we wandered over to the bar area, where we ordered a Samuel Adams Oatmeal Stout and a Victory Donnybrook Stout. I liked the Outmeal Stout, while Laura enjoyed the Victory Stout. That may have been because those are the ones we chose.
We sat and talked for a while and decided to do a little exploring. We got up and walked out to the porch. It’s a bit odd walking around on a completely heated porch in the middle of winter, but really cool at the same time. The inn encased the entire porch in double paned glass to keep it heated and cooled year round. There were tables and chairs set up for the entire span.
After we wandered around for a little while, I decided to go back up front to grab a few quick shots. Dinner was about to begin, so I had to put the camera away. Here is what I got.
Mayflower Inn lobby, staircase and Christmas tree
Room leading to the library
Sitting and relaxing room
Okay, I got that out of the way, so we were ready for dinner. We walked in the to main dining room and sat at our usual table. It’s the one in the right, rear corner. During the day, you can look out the window at the garden. At night time, you face the seats so you are looking at the rest of the dining room.
I am not going to say much about dinner, except the fact that it was delicious. The only complaint that I had is that I couldn’t have another…everything. The dessert was especially annoying to finish. I kept scraping the plate with my spoon in an effort to get every last bit. It was good. It’s rare to find food that good, it really is.
About an hour and a half later, we left the dinging room to head back to the library. Once we got back in, Laura spent her time browsing the walls for some good books to flip through. My eyes kept wandering around to see how the fireplace worked and how everything was put together. At one point, I picked up a few books myself. I found a set of really neat books called, “The Historians’ History of the World.” These books were very thick and very ancient. By ancient, I mean 100 years, not a million. I decided that someone should buy me the set of these; they looked very interesting. It would make for some good bed-time reading.
If you’ll notice, I didn’t drink a glass of Scotch. That might be because I haven’t found my flavor yet or because I didn’t want to smell like a bottle of liquor while driving down the road. Either are good excuses.
After a while, we decided it was time to head up to Washington and take a little tour. We got in the car and made a right out of the parking lot. We made it to the top of the hill and didn’t see a soul. It’s a very quiet and well behaved town on Christmas night, I suppose. We made a quick left, when I thought we should turn around. As I was turning, I looked to my left and saw an enormous church. I had to take a picture of it, so you would see what I am talking about.
The First Congregational Church, Washington, CT
Now, this is a serious church. They aren’t messing around. This is like the “center of town” church. I thought it looked really cool, especially being that is was Christmas night.
We continued down the hill to pass the entrance to the Gunnery…
The Gunnery, Washington, CT
After that, we made a few wrong turns, but eventually made it back out to the main road.
I’m almost done, but there is one other photo I took that is pretty neat. On the way back, we passed by the Woodbury Ski Area. Now, you know me and I can’t pass up an opportunity to take a picture of something so lit up as this. Here is a shot of some night time skiing.
Woodbury Ski Area
Well, there aren’t many people skiing, but I am sure you can imagine what it would be like if there was.
That’s my Chirstmas post. I hope you liked it as much as we liked living it. Till next time…
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Sunday, December 7th, 2008
I was lying in bed last night at around 12:30 just thinking about the ins and outs of life. I turned to my side and noticed that one of the backyard motion detector lights had clicked on. They aren’t too difficult to notice…they basically make the window shades in the bedroom glow.
Over the Summer, I set three of these lights up for safe keeping. Who knows what happens in this backyard during the overnight and I felt that perhaps these lights would scare away the wolves if they attempt to peek in the windows.
I rolled out of bed, walked over to the window and pulled on the shade string. I looked down to the porch and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then, to my left, another motion detector clicked on. I gave a quick glance, but didn’t see anything there either. I became slightly curious. I scanned slowly from right to left and then I saw it. Our very short friend had appeared again.
Apparently, the neighborhood has a cat that likes to make little pit stops here from time to time. He or she is a semi-long haired black and white one. The cat was walking towards the driveway, minding its own business when I saw it, so I decided to close the shade to get some sleep.
I remember a time over the Summer when this cat decided to stop by to sun itself on the front walkway. He or she was probably here for over an hour, just laying on the warm walkway the way cats do. Very cute.
Back to last night. Just as I went for the shade string to close the shade, I glanced over to the right again. I saw little flickers in the beam of the spotlight. I felt a gentle tingle in my stomach because what I thought I was witnessing was our first snow. This, of course, was through very tired eyes.
Here are a few photos of what we woke up to this morning.
Snow in the back woods
Do you know what’s nice about snow? Well, I’ll tell you. It makes everything brighter. You can’t miss it because everything in the house comes alive during the morning of a fresh snow fall.
Laura woke up about an hour before I did. After I got out of bed and stumbled down the stairs, we stood in the kitchen talking. I said, “Hey, did you see that it snowed last night?” She just gave me a look.
A few days ago, I was doing all sorts of work inside. I was running around like crazy. The sun was shining outside, but going down fast. This time of year makes you feel like the sun is setting before you even hop out of bed in the morning. I guess it could be with the way it hangs so low in the sky all day. I’ll admit, it gets on my nerves at times.
At about 2PM, I decided it was time for a break. I needed to get outside to soak up what light was left for the day. I know myself and if I sit inside too long, I become agitated.
I opened the garage door and took a few steps outside. As beautiful as it was, it was a bit brisk. I remember this because when my cold pants hit my leg, I got goose bumps.
I went over my usual routine…walking up and down the driveway, looking at all the plants. I imagined what they were going to look like come Spring. I put a whole bunch of them in the dirt this year, so I get excited when I think about what they will become.
As I made my way down to the bottom of the driveway, the filtered sunlight hit my back. It felt so good, because it instantly warmed me up. I walked a bit further and found a spot where the direct sunlight was shining on the driveway. I moved into it and stood there in the warmth for a few minutes, just staring in the woods.
Then I closed my eyes.
The very first thing Laura and I noticed when we opened the car doors to visit this house was the quiet of the neighborhood. I am talking silence. I have rarely heard this type of quiet and was starting to think it didn’t exist. There is usually some sort of background noise that one becomes accustomed to, but not here, and that’s what really makes this place.
When Laura’s parents visited us over the Summer, the first thing they said upon getting out of their car was, “Wow, it’s quiet here.”
I must have been standing there for about 15 minutes. I have to tell you, I really, really enjoyed just simply being where I was. That kind of peace doesn’t stop by too often; I have to kind of go hunt it down.
I heard Laura give a quiet giggle in back of me and I turned around. It was like I just woke up. The sun was still shining on me, so it was difficult to see what she was doing. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that she was taking Holly up to the mailbox for her daily walk. Laura likes to take the dog out for a while, so Holly can enjoy the scenery too.
It’s strange, because I am still thinking about just standing there in the driveway.
I don’t know why, but I’m sure it has something to do with…
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Saturday, November 29th, 2008
He should have never bought that gun.
You know, for the past few days, I have been agonizing over how I am going to make this story good. On the surface, it seems like a simple task, but the more I have been thinking about it, trying to make someone smile through writing is a challenging feat. I knew I had to start writing soon because I had already committed to it a few days ago. I’m not sure who wants to see this story on my blog more, you or me.
Recently, my Aunt, who is a writer, told me that she really gets a kick out of what I jot down here. This means an awful lot to me because she is in the writing business. Truthfully, I have absolutely no training at all when it comes to expressing myself through text and it’s a little intimidating knowing that someone with years of successful stories behind her is on the other side of the screen. I mean sure, I attended English class back in high school and college, but I’m not sure I retained anything. When the day finally came where I wanted to get something off my chest, I started to learn.
I asked her to give me feedback if she saw a glaring error. Actually, I would appreciate feedback if I make a small mistake, like using “it’s” instead of “its.” What would be great is if she let me behind the scenes regarding strategy. How do I start a story off? What should be the first line? Where should I begin the crescendo, like in music or a verbal story? These are all things that can make or break what I, or anyone else, writes.
As you may have noticed, some of my posts are better than others.
Sometimes, an entry comes out nicely when I least expect it, like my recent post, “Snowboarding Is Back.” I really just wanted to get something down quickly, but after I started getting into it, I got more and more motivated.
Sometimes entries don’t come out so nicely. I think I had high hopes for my, “The Rules Of Blogging” post, but I was a little perturbed when I sat down to write that, so it didn’t come out as planned. I actually had to delete an entire paragraph from that one because I thought it came across mildly abrasive.
When I think about what is going to make or break a post, like trying to figure out the answers to those questions I asked above, I think it’s entirely up to me. If I took lessons from someone, the story wouldn’t be entirely mine and it might seem “forced.” It depends on how I feel right at that point of what I am doing.
My Aunt tells me that she enjoys the details. I enjoy writing them. If I can express to someone how all those little green blades of grass feel when they are softly tickling my toes, I think that’s a success. Otherwise, we have a bland story, and no one wants that.
Just a few minutes ago, I was standing in the shower trying to raise my body temperature. As the water got hotter and hotter, I began thinking. I guess the water temperature got my brain moving. I had so many thoughts running through my head about just how I would explain the beginning of this post. So many thoughts were good, although I’m not sure I just spent the past fifteen minutes expressing any of them. I forget so easily. If I could figure out a way to lay my thoughts out faster, I might be on to something, until then, this is what we get.
So it begins…
When I graduated college, I had zero dollars. I was broke. I’m not sure I was in a position to do anything with my life other than to live at my parent’s house and find a job. At least I would have had someplace to sleep and I would be fed. Looking back, I think that might have been a good idea, but that really wouldn’t have put me where I am today. I took the challenging path, which is the one I usually end up taking.
In the past few years, I have had more conversations about how other people live their lives than I care to admit. “If I did it, then so should you,” is how I would usually end a conversation. I probably got that line of thinking from my father. It frustrates me when I see people not working to their potential. I’m not sure why, because seriously, it’s none of my business. It’s just that when I think back on all the adventures I have had through life, I guess I want others to share in those kinds of adventures too. If they are taking the easy way out, then they are missing many of the challenges and rewards that life has to offer. When you take the hard path and accomplish something, you tend to realize it once it’s done. That, my friends, is a good feeling.
A few months before graduation, my friend Rob and I decided to look for a place to live. We had been hearing many good things about Atlanta, Georgia for a while and decided to hop in the car for a trip down South. I actually had a professor who used to live in that city, so I would pick his brain during our student/teacher meetings. I am sure that time could have been better spent (at the rate I was going), but now I’m not so sure. What really struck me was his recollection of Lake Lanier, North of Atlanta. He said it was very active, very deep and very cool. I have always wanted to live near a lake, so hearing this only made me all the more excited for our trip.
Rob is a fun guy to travel with. He can be trusted behind the wheel and the conversation is good. We seem to be on the same page a lot, which makes for a good amount of agreement when it comes to really trying to analyzing something, such as a new place to live. If you had been sitting there, listening to us that first night in Atlanta, you would have heard a, sort of, agreement fight. We were so involved in what we were agreeing on, it may have been viewed as an argument. It’s funny to engage in and I’m sure it’s even more funny to watch.
Rob at age 14 (I think)
I remember a little something about our first drive South to the town nicknamed, “Hotlanta.” We were cruising down one of Virginia’s most scenic highways, Interstate 81. Rob was behind the wheel of his Honda CRX and I was in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep with one eye open. I generally don’t trust anyone behind the wheel besides myself, but as I said above, Rob is okay, hence, only one eye being open.
The car was already a mess. For some reason, it is impossible to take a trip that lasts more than three hours without the entire car being filled with garbage. This is a phenomenon I will never understand.
I am not sure what began the exchange, but when I opened the other eye, I peered over to see Rob giving someone in a bright blue pickup truck next to us the one finger salute. I got all excited and told Rob to cut the crap. I said, “Rob man, these people aren’t like us. If they somehow get the cops down here to pull us over, they are going to tear our Yankee asses out of this car and no one will ever see us again.” Of course, Virginia is only a few miles past the Mason-Dixon Line and I was at a very ignorant point in my life. Rob tried to explain that the pickup truck had cut him off and the finger was warranted, but I wasn’t having any of it. All I wanted was to get to Atlanta in one piece so I could make a decision that would affect me for at least the next year of my life.
We drove for a while longer and eventually forgot about the whole exchange. The conversation was fluid, but we both agreed that it was time to pull over, get some gas and browse the service station aisles for its best and healthiest food. After all, we were already at the bottom of Virginia and had been driving for a good long time.
We found an exit that had a huge “Gas” sign next to the exit ramp. We pulled off the highway and made a right. We quickly made another right into the gas station.
While Rob was creeping along, trying to figure out the best place to fill up, something made me glance out the back window. A few moments after I did, I managed to force out an, “Uh oh.” Um, yeah, you guessed it, a bright blue pickup truck was pulling in right after us. Mind you, this was like an hour after we had seen our last bright blue pickup truck.
We stopped in front of the gas pump.
I saw Rob stiffen up when the pickup truck guy start walking towards the car. I had no idea what was about to take place, but I was ready to pounce. I was going to let this good ol’ boy know what it felt like to get his ass whooped by a young and limber red headed Yankee.
As he approached the car, the pickup truck dude finally said, “What are you doin’, showin’ me your age?” to which Rob replied, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The guy responded, “Don’t act like it never happened. I saw you back there giving me the finger.” Rob came back with a swift and forceful, “I didn’t give you the finger, that would be road rage.”
Okay, after I realized the pickup truck guy wasn’t going to try to tear either of us out of the car, I let my guard down and loosened my grip on the fist of death. There would be no Southern altercation today. The gentleman, who actually ended up to be quite pleasant, walked away with another story to tell his friends and we filled up the tank, did our thing, and continued on, headed South.
We made it to Atlanta, and after a few days of driving around, we decided against moving there after graduation. We thought the culture was oriented too much around work. Everyone seemed to be working all the time. Work, work, work, work, work. That went against the grain of Jay and Rob, who honestly weren’t all that much into the whole work thing. We left and headed up to Nashville, Tennessee. Now, that’s a story for another time.
A few weeks later and after hanging out up North for a while, I made the call. I said, “Rob, let’s move down to Atlanta. What the heck. It would be something new and if we don’t like it, we won’t stay past the first year’s lease.” He agreed and we decided to move on down after I came back from college in Binghamton.
Rob helped me out a lot those first few months. As I already mentioned, I had no money. The complex we lived in had a pretty sweet deal…either take the first month’s rent for free, or spread a discount across all twelve months of the lease. Since I moved down about a month earlier than Rob, I said that we should take the first month free, and then we would split the remaining ones after I get a job.
Rob, Pete and Jay in Atlanta
The job didn’t happen until a few months into our little adventure. We took the first month’s rent for free and then Rob covered the next month. Right at the end of that month, I finally got a job and started paying Rob back. He had payed for more than just rent. He payed for the groceries, the utilities and everything else. You know, he didn’t even make a peep about it either, perhaps that’s why I never made a fuss about what happened next.
One day, Rob decided that it would be a good idea to buy a .22 caliber rifle. That’s right, a rifle. Now, this wasn’t a big, powerful gun, it was basically a step up from a BB gun, but still, it could do some damage. Rob walked into Wal-Mart with a wallet and walked out of Wal-Mart with a wallet and a gun. It seems like Georgia actually encourages this kind of stuff.
There was one thing I knew for sure; Rob should, in absolutely no way, own a gun. He has a little history with guns that I will tell you about right now, in numerical order.
1. One day while twirling my BB gun in the front yard, Rob shot the out neighbor’s house window.
2. One day, while shooting targets with my BB gun in the backyard, Rob missed the target and the BB ricochet about three times and hit me in the temple.
3. One day, while standing at the end of the driveway twirling my BB gun, Rob blew out the back window of our friend’s Mustang, while it was driving down the road.
The fact that Rob owned this gun made me nervous. Luckily, neither of us ever saw it again in Atlanta after the day he bought it. He must have put it in his closet for protection or something.
I will move ahead about a year to get this party started.
After our Atlanta experience, we decided to move back up North. I decided to stay at Craig’s house for a month or so, before moving back to Binghamton for grad school. Rob ended up back at his parents’ house for a short stay before renting a house down in town.
Craig owned about 40 acres of land up in Oneonta, NY. We would all visit about once a month to see what he was up to. When we arrived, Craig was usually straddling some earth moving machine in an effort to either create a road, a dirt bike track or a pond. Every time we were there, Craig was working on some project. Over the years, Craig had collected quite the array of machinery to assist him in his effort to transform his 40 acres into the land of his dreams.
Craig was quite dedicated and Craig was quite serious.
There was one particular visit I remember well. Both Rob and I were on slate for a weekend visit to “the farm.” Since I was already there, I don’t think it qualified as a “visit” for me. For Rob, the three hour drive definitely made him a visitor.
During the few weeks I lived at Craig’s, I witnessed him acquire a few neat little machines. These were basically farm type things and I really don’t know what some of them were used for. I know one spread around manure. It was a cool trailer type machine that, when towed, spread cow crap all over the fields for various reasons, such as fertilizing the grass and, well, getting rid of the manure.
Another piece of equipment Craig acquired while I was there was an old dump truck. It must have been from the 60s or 70s. It was old and rusty. This was his pride and joy.
I remember the day he rolled in the driveway with it. I took one look and said, “What the hell are you going to do with that? Does it run?” He replied, “Of course it runs. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get a good running work truck like this around here for so cheap?” He looked so excited and I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I just kind of shook my head and walked away.
Well, Craig decided it was worth talking about, so he chased me. He explained that this work truck was going to save him countless hours of time. Instead of moving dirt around with the machines, now he could fill up the dump body of the truck and haul the dirt where ever he wanted. His eyes were so bright when he told me about what this truck could do, he almost glowed. I hadn’t realized it, but he had been looking for a truck like this for some time. They were so scarce because none of the farmers in the area ever let them go. They were all using them for their own purposes.
Okay, if it was important to him, it was important to me. I wouldn’t make fun of it.
Rob wasn’t there for this conversation. Rob had no idea how much Craig loved that truck. Rob showed up and wanted to drink beer and ride dirt bikes, of which we were both only too happy to oblige.
We had a good time the night after Rob arrived. We ate and drank and told stories of all the crazy stuff we used to do. Craig showed us the shiny new rifle he recently bought, but hadn’t fired yet. Living on a farm in the middle of no where, I guess one needs a huge rifle that uses 3 1/2 bullets. I saw them and they could probably penetrate tank armor. Craig was pretty excited about this and said he was going to see how it shot the next day.
It just so happens that Rob decided to bring his gun too. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as powerful as Craig’s new bazooka, but it would be fine during target practice. I just had to be sure the stay the hell away from Rob when he was firing this thing. At the time, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea to bring that gun up to Craig’s, since it was on a hillside in Oneonta, NY. There was virtually no one for miles.
You know, come to think of it, at no point that night did Craig ever express to Rob the importance of his new work truck.
We woke up the next morning. As usual, Rob was up first, looking to get a jump on the day. He was always so damn chipper when he was up there, it was annoying. I wanted my beauty sleep, but I guess I was kind of excited too. After all, this was the day we were going to see two guns that had never been fired before, fired.
We took showers and walked downstairs, but couldn’t find Craig. We strolled around for a while, got some coffee and decided to sit on the couch and talk. The house was silent and kind of boring, but we didn’t really want to get into doing farm chores…we would leave those for Craig. We were there to have fun.
After a few minutes of some pretty lazy conversation, we were shaken by a huge “BA BOOOOM!!!” Our eyes shot wide open and poor Rob almost fell off the couch. I think my heart skipped a beat when I heard that enormously loud explosion. I looked at Rob and Rob looked at me. We both thought we were under attack. Rob started to get to his feet, when another “BA BOOOOM!!!” knocked him back on the couch. I felt so bad because he had no idea what the heck was going on. Neither of us did.
We got to our feet and raced to the back window, the one overlooking the mountainside. There, we saw Craig standing and smiling with a grin so wide it went from ear to ear. He was standing there with his huge new rifle in his hand and a new wake up call. He was staring straight at us and obviously knew he was going to scare the heck out of us. I’m not sure if he was so happy because he scared us or that he mutilated whatever it was that he just shot.
Craig's back porch
Hillside in Oneonta, NY
I just stood there staring out the window, frozen, when I saw Rob whiz past me and run down the back porch stairs. Oh no, he had his gun too. I guess I had been in a trance longer than I thought because Rob had actually run upstairs to grab his gun and bullets, got his sneakers on and made it outside before I even knew what was going on.
I quickly pulled my sneakers on and tightened up the laces nice and snug. I flew outside to meet Rob standing a good distance in back of Craig. Craig was setting up for another shot and we didn’t want to be anywhere near him when we heard the…”BA BOOOOM!!!” again. Yeah, that was it, he took another shot.
We were both standing there next to each other when Rob asked, “What in the world is that?” He was looking at Craig’s new truck. I said, “Oh, don’t ask. That’s Craig’s new work truck. Like he needs another hunk of junk around here.” Rob said, “Seriously.” and began walking down to Craig, who was filling his rifle up with another bullet.
I remember standing there when I saw Rob stop about half way between Craig and me. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a bunch of bullets. He took the clip out of his gun and filled it with the bullets he just pulled out of the pocket.
At that point, things started to move in slow motion…very slow motion.
When Craig woke up early in the morning, he walked down to the new work truck and placed a shooting target on the very rearmost, highest tip of the wooden boards used as sides to the dump body. The main dump body was steel, but there were two 2×10s on each side of the bed to hold more material. This target was placed neatly on the uppermost corner, far out of reach of the rest of the truck. It was almost invisible from where Rob was standing.
When Craig shot his gun, the bullet was so powerful and so fast, it simply sliced through the paper target and splintered the wood. The bullet easily exited the backside of the board. It was almost like there was no damage from the small missiles at all. Craig hit the target three times and the board was still clearly intact.
Craig had loaded his gun and Rob had loaded his gun.
No one ever told Rob that there was a target on the back of the truck.
Craig set up to take another shot when we both heard, “PAP PAP PAP PAP PAP.” It was Rob’s gun going off. I think Craig liked it because now Rob was getting into the mix. Rob was standing there like he was a hitman taking down a rival gang.
“BA BOOOOM!!!” again. Craig made another shot. “PAP PAP PAP PAP…” Rob kept firing. I think his clip held 20 bullets and he had emptied them all. “BA BOOOOM!!!” Craig had fired his last bullet. What a morning it was.
I stood there watching the whole thing from behind them both. What struck me as odd was the angle of Rob’s gun. It wasn’t lined up with the target and it kept moving from side to side. Craig’s, on the other hand, stayed straight and steady, like it was in the hands of a trained marksman.
I stood there in disbelief. My mouth parted slightly and hung open as I realized what had just happened. The corners of my mouth began to curl upward. I started walking toward both Rob and Craig when I overheard them congratulating themselves for the massive amount of firepower they had just displayed. I just kept on walking, one foot in front of the other.
When I reached them, the three of us started walking down to the truck together. We were quiet during this time and for some strange reason, no one said a word. The silence was deafening. All we heard was the crunching of the dried dirt beneath out feet.
We had about 100 feet to walk in total and about 50 feet were left. When we reached 20 feet, we all heard a “HISSSSSSSS.”
Craig’s head quickly snapped over to look at Rob when he belted out, “ROBERT, WHAT DID YOU DO???”
I felt a tear forming in the outside corner of my right eye. My upper lip began to tremble in anticipation of the discovery we were about to make. My feet started shifting in my shoes.
A few steps closer and the hiss got louder.
That’s when all three of us simultaneously saw bullet holes peppered out over the entire side of Craig’s new work truck…his pride and joy…his saviour of countless hours of hard labor.
I began making quiet screaming noises inside my tightly clamped mouth. My eyes were only half way open and my forehead has scrunched up more than it had ever been. At this point, tears were fully formed and rolling down my cheeks. I really tried to hold it in.
As we got closer, we found that the tire was punctured, the windshield was shattered, the side of the truck had about 10 bullet holes in it and the front fender was hit multiple times. There were no bullet holes anywhere near the target at the back of the truck.
I turned around and began walking back up the hill towards the house. Craig looked over at Rob and started yelling at him. I finally let a breath out and nearly broke down in the middle of the field. I looked back to find that they had popped the hood of the truck open. Rob had shot the fender, which sheltered the engine. Apparently, Rob’s bullets made their way through the distributor cap, the radiator and the valve covers. The truck was unusable.
I kept walking up the hill and heard the yelling get louder. It was like a cartoon. A few more quick glances and it felt like someone slipped peyote in my morning drink. I was full fledged balling at this point. All I could do was walk away and dream of brighter days ahead.
I love Rob. I love him to death. The gifts he has bestowed upon me are immeasurable. I am not sure he will ever know the joy he has brought to my life.
This, my friends, was the second funniest thing that has ever happened in my life and I enjoyed sharing it with you very much.
Thank you.
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Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008
I told you I would try to grab a video if I ever saw the squirrel come around the bird feeders again.
Well, it just so happens that I was looking out the window today when I noticed a big, bushy gray tail wagging around on the porch. I quickly turned around to get the video camera so I could show all you people.
I turned the camera on and totally forgot how to use it. As I got situated, the squirrel was doing his/her thing, but luckily nothing near the squirrel proof bird feeder yet. As I started getting him/her on video, he/she made a small attempt at learning more about the feeder. He/she didn’t jump up on it, but you can see how he/she went to grab the perch.
I am sure I will get more, but this will have to do for now.
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