The Squirrel Chronicles

Last night I was reminiscing to juan about television shows of my childhood. I started to atalk about the Muppets and Kermit, Miss Piggy and Fozzy the bear.

Juan: Who is Kermit?
Me: (shrieking) WHAT DO YOU MEAN "WHO'S KERMIT?"
Juan: WHO IS KERMIT?
Me: You know, the green frog, the one who dates Miss Piggy?
Juan: Who is Miss Piggy?
Me: (begins to have a panic attack) THE FAT PINK PIG WHO WANTS TO GET IT ON WITH KERMIT, THE ONE WITH THE FABULOUS WARDROBE!

It turns out that The Muppets in Hispanic television have different names. DIFFERENT NAMES!

WHO HAS CREATIVE LICENSE TO CHANGE THE MUPPETS NAMES?

And get this, the names are HORRIBLE.
I got up in Juan's face and demanded he tell me EVERY HISPANIC NAME of EVERY Muppet in existence. I totally freaked him out and I think he lost bladder control at one point. The stress made him forget several names, but these are the ones I managed to yank from his brain:

Fraggles= What's a Fraggle? (Dear God, save us all)
Gonzo= GONZALEZ (Ok, not TOO bad)
Miss Piggy= ROSITA (What the HELL? Rosita? That is the name of the Spanish maid on the Goonies!)
Kermit= (please prepare yourself) Kermit's name on Hispanic TV is: RENEE

RENEE.
WHO NAMES A CHILDHOOD ICON, RENEE?

The world is literally tearing apart at the seams. I may not survive.

happy birthday to me!
There was a party on sunday, during which I received a wide array of exciting presents!
Most notably, please see the ipod shuffle, exercise arm band and lovely, lovely orchids. (Those showed up on my doorstep today from a certain person in California!)
I am so excited to fill my shuffle with Black Eyed Peas songs. I will kick ass at the gym thinking of Fergie's super hot abs.
Thank you to everyone for your phone calls, cards and LOVE.

So it is finally getting colder here. It rained all last night and was in the 40's.
That means the squirrels have yet again taken cover in my walls and ceilings.
As I was getting ready for church this morning, I heard constant scratching and scuttling in the bathrrom ceiling tiles.
I was so pissed.
I took my shampoo bottle and started banging on the ceiling. He kept scampering around and was finally quiet.
I am concerned he is chewing at the electrical wiring and I will have another dead squirrel in a few days.
Sigh.
I am off to my grandma's today to start another quilting project. I don't know what it is yet, but I am sure it will be fun. Then I am having dinner at my mom's for me and Juan's double birthday party.
I am under the impression that there will be meatballs.
Last night I went to the Oktoberfest. It made me realize that I am truly made up of Italian and Irish blood. I do not understand the yodelling, I do not understand the funny pointy hats with feathers, and I CERTAINLY do not understand why all the food is so bitter and sour.
Me and the strudel though? We understand eachother PERFECTLY.

Here is my new fall hair color.
I love it. It makes it so my freckles stand out and look cute like freckles do.
It brings out all my pink undertones and makes me look healthier.
I think I'll keep it for awhile.

Oh, he's gonna kill me for this one.

and there was much fondue-ing and laughter.

Happy Birthday, Juan!
You are officially one quarter and a penny today.

I wish on your birthday, I could give you one tenth of the precious gifts you have given me the past 3 years.
Your generosity, your kindness, your gentle and loving heart and your NEVER ENDING patience and understanding simply amaze me on an hourly basis. (I also cannot leave out your incredibly hunky smile and your fabulously muscled arms)
Thank you for your presence in my life. Thank you for wanting to be my husband and for agreeing to deal with my BS for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. (You still have time to back out, you know)
Thank you for ridding my ceiling of dead squirrels, thank you for cleaning the toilet every week. Thank you for opening the tops of stuck-on jelly jars, and tolerating my blogsite.

I am completely and endlessly devoted to you.

Juan's nephew, Aniel recently lost his first tooth. I went for a visit today to give him a hearty congratulations.
He was quite proud of his gaping tooth hole. Following my admiration, we commenced playing Lincoln Logs on the living room floor.

ME: (gets up to go the bathroom)

Aniel: Where are you going?

Me: To the bathroom

Aniel: What are you going to do?

Me: Go to the bathroom.

Aniel: (exasperated) NO! What are you going to DO?

Me: GO TO THE BATHROOM

Aniel: But WHAT are you going to DO???!!!

Me: GO TO THE BATHROOM

Juan: ANIEL! It is not polite to ask ladies if they are going to pee or poop in the bathroom.

Me: OH!!! I'm gonna take a pee!

Aniel: Oh. OK.

Kris has come up with a fabulous new way to occupy the local squirrel community. (namely, those who reside in my ceiling)

I figure if I can get 'em addicted, one of a few favorable outcomes may occur;

1) Their wives will get PISSED that the fridge is full of beer and not nuts, and kick them out of the house.

2) Their livers will explode from alcohol poisoning

3) They will enter the recovery phase of the disease, and spend most of their time at AA meetings, and NOT in my ceiling.

Conversation as student approaches me:

Student: You look like my teacher!

Me: Who's your teacher?

Student: Mr. Gifford

Check out this sexy little number!
Due to the fact that I only work 6 out of 10 weeks of summer, I haven't entered a mall since June.
Now that my paychecks are back into the swing of things, I lost all self control and spent the entire evening at the mall.
So I walk into Ann Taylor and they're having a ginormous summer clothes sale. An extra 50%off already marked down clothes.
It was an orgasmic experience.

I found this one hundred dollar satin dress IN MY SIZE on a rack.

It is marked down to fifty dollars.

I fear losing bowel and bladder control.

I practically run up to the cashier to pay for the dress. The total amount is TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS.

So this evening, my heart is simply bursting with pride at my fabulous find.
There is really nothing better than a terrific sale. For real.

I couldn't decide what kind of cookies to make, so I made oatmeal chocolate chip.
I regret that there isn't a picture to show you.
The cookies have LONG since diappeared.
after eating 4 right out of the oven, I quickly packaged up the rest and brought them to work so mu co-workers could feast on their buttery goodness. It also guarantees that my practically non-existent waist will not fill out anymore.
I worked out for an extra 20 minutes, just in case.

AND I am going to the pet loss supposrt group. But not until November.
Better late than never.

SURPRISE! This squirrel has NOT been in my kitchen recently!
As you can see, this squirrel looks as if she is running through the woods. And we all know that I do not enter the woods, EVER, unless there is concrete evidence for S'Mores and Zima.
Well, it turns out that yesterday's Oprah is not the only thing that has made me cry. Today someone offered me their condolences about Buddy and I lost it all over again. But it has been 2 days since my last breakdown, so I am viewing this as progress. It sounds silly, but I am considering a grief group at the local humane society. (I figure any little bit helps.) I have been feeling panicky every time I think about going to my parent's house and Buddy not being there. I feel an incredible urge to adopt another dog IMMEDIATELY. I think it would just be to distract me form my sadness. And that is not a good reason to adopt a pet. Has anyone else ever felt that way?
In order to calm myself I plan on lifting weights this evening and then baking. I am deciding between white chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal raisin. I will post the results.

Do not watch today's episode of Oprah if you:
a) Have PMS
b) Are emotionally fragile from the death of your dog
c) Are exhausted and sweaty from 90 degree heat
d) Hungry for dinner

It will make you cry

The vet's office called today and said that Buddy's ashes were ready to be picked up. So I loaded my mom, my sister and my sister's boyfriend into the car and we all drove to the office together to get the dog. We walked in, and there were 3 owners who had their respective dogs with them. All those pups were so curious about us, and each of them reminded us all of Buddy. One was Buddy's exact size, another had his dark eyes, and the third tiny lab puppy was just a fuzzball of love.
It made my sister cry, but I somehow felt reassured.
We took Buddy home in his decorative tin. He rode quietly in my mom's lap. It was very strange.
When we got him in the house, I felt better. I knew he was home with us, and he is safe. I really feel OK about it. I am still so so sad. But knowing he is back with us makes it a lot better somehow. I also think this conversation had something to do with it:

My Dad: (opening the tin and cautiously inspecting the tiny bag of sand-like ashes): "I can't believe it!"

My Mom: "Are you POKING HIM?"

My Dad: "I just can't believe it!"

My Mom: "Leave him alone! He's trying to REST!"

izzle

A suffix, often used by gangsters, used to cut off a word when one's brain cannot process words with greater than three syllables.

"Whack" is an onomatizzle.

Is anyone else completely REVOLTED by Mick Jagger's swivelling, gyrating, emaciated pelvis?

To demonstarte just how food crazed I am this week, I thought this picture was an enormous, sent from heaven on angel wings WAFFLE. I began imagining mounds of fluffy Cool Whip and chocolate sauce. And powdered sugar. Lots and lots of powdered sugar.
Alas, it is a ceiling.
On a more positive note, I remembered to wear deodorant today. (thanks, kris!) In fact, I was so anal to NOT forget, that I applied it 3 times.
And then I put on a dark colored t-shirt, and i didn't see the white deodorant mark until I got to work. It is a good thing that 3 year olds don't notice deodorant marks.
Also, instead of eating chocolate chips I made an entire pan of low fat brownies. I plan on pouring fat free caramel all over the top. It is quite possible that i will eat the entire pan while Juan is at class.
Yep. Things are looking up.

I fear that my depression over the hurricane and Buddy is mixing with this month's bout of PMS.
I am on a(nother) chocolate rampage. No bag of chocolate chips is safe from me.
I forgot to put on deodorant before I went to work this morning, and was distracted all day, trying not to move my arms about.
And a family of hornets is nesting in my bedroom window.
Nothing could make me more pissed off today, than a family of hornets.

This is someone else's pet, but I wanted to use her to illustrate my point.
Just as everyone else, I have been completely numbed and overwhelmed by the devastation of Katrina. I am glued to my mom's cable, and watch wide eyed in disbelief at the incredible, utter LOSS brought onto our fellow Americans.
Although my heart has been breaking for them, and my soul just can't wrap itself around all the pain... today I saw a man on TV (OK, on Oprah) who wouldn't go to the shelter, because he JUST WOULDN'T leave his dog behind.
Oh man, I totally lost it.
I threw myself into Juan's arms and cried "I wouldn't leave my dog, EITHER!"
Oh, I just cried and cried and cried.
I guess it is all that raw emotion mixed in from Buddy, but WOW, that freaking killed me today.
Has anyone else been walking around in a fog, from all this? I mean, really....i feel DEPRESSED. Just tired, and numb and...removed. And I'm not even THERE. I can't BEGIN to imagine their pain and their anger.
It is exhausting.
That dog scene, though...that just did me IN.

In an effort to cheer myself up, I'm postng a joke that my grandpa told me last night:

An old man is sitting on the porch of the old folks home, watching the world go by. He watches a farmer approaching, pushing a wheelbarrow full of manure. The old man calls out to the farmer: "Whatcha gonna do with all that manure?"
The farmer replies: "I'm going to put it on my strawberries."
The old man says: "Hmmph! I put cream on mine!"

Here is a picture of our little dog. Sorry you can't see his face. I'm having a problem with the contrast on my camera.
Yesterday I told a neighbor about Buddy, and that my whole family is quite upset. Here response both shocked and sickened me: "Oh well! It was about time! You'll get over it soon!" She said this all bright and cheerful-like.
OH WELL?? ABOUT TIME?? What kind of response is THAT?
I wanted to lecture her on the value of pets. They are not mere distractions that happen to come and go in our lives. Not simply there teach children "responsibility" and provide entertainment.
Pets are our comfort, they are our teachers, they enrich us and soothe us.
They are not to be taken so lightly, and NO, I WILL NOT GET OVER IT SOON.
When I was driving home from my parent's house, contemplating all these thoughts, I began to cry in my car. You know, the uncontrollable kind of sobs..the kind when you're not sure if they will ever stop. When I was stopped at a traffic light, the car next to me honked it's horn. The driver leaned out his window and said "Are you OK?" All I could do was nod. Later, I imagined that I replied "My poor doggy died". It comforts me to think he simply would have said 'I'm sorry".