Snake's Alive!

Everyone is accustomed to hearing tales of my Tundra-bred canines, but I am also a fan of the feline furballs, too. We have four of the kitties roaming around our place, and they have definitely clawed a place into our homes and hearts.

Our three girls are Ariel, the grey tabby and matriarch of the feline family, Belle, the clever and capricious calico, and Jasmine, a sweet and loving solid black, long-haired girl. All prefer the "great outdoors" of our cul-de-sac region, and we leave our garage door open several inches so they can seek shelter from the elements and come in for a bite and a drink in between their Great Hunting Expeditions. The fourth member of our Feline Family is Biggles, a white male Persian, who is strictly the indoor type and who often thinks that he is a dog!

Our Girls encounter some crazy wildlife adventures in the Great Outdoors at times. Take the time that a family of birds decided to start their new family in a tree in our front yard. Okay, I don't know much about birds, so I cannot tell you what type they were, but they were FIERCE! So fierce that they intimidated the bejeezus out of poor Ariel. Imagine birds chasing a cat! I swear that it really happened. Over the course of several weeks while these birds nested in our front yard, Ariel's life was a living feline hell. One morning, the darling Czech Pecker walked out front to get into his car, and he saw Ariel in the center of the cul-de-sac, surrounded by a bird on four sides. Every time she tried to escape, the birds would close in on her, trying to peck at her head! Another day around that same time, she was trying to walk from our driveway to our sidewalk leading to the steps up to our porch, and the birds flew from their nest to peck at her while she tried to run into the house! That very weekend, we left town to visit Charleston, and my step-father, Robert, checked on our pets several times a day for us. At one point, he was standing on our front porch, and as he looked down our street, Ariel was running down the street, toward the house, with at least three birds chasing her! Poor kitty made it into the house, terrorized. To this day, we do not allow Alfred Hitchcock films in our house in deference to her.

Needless to say, we have received our share of gifts from The Girls, mainly in the form of field mice. I've learned to graciously accept these gifts and surreptitiously dispose of them at a later time, when the cats are napping or they are off on another hunt. One thing I have learned about cats and mice, though...they only chase and hunt them when THEY want to do it. After cleaning out the garage one day, a displaced field mouse decided to come into our house, into the kitchen. Sitting in my living room reading a book, I glanced up and saw the little bugger making its way nonchalantly across the floor, and I said, "Well, shit fire and save the matches...there's a mouse!" When I tried to send a cat after it, she looked at me as if I had three heads and proceeded to lick her butt. I learned my lesson. Cats only chase mice on their own terms. I don't know what ever happened to that little mouse. It disappeared into the laundry room, never to be seen again. I suspect it disappeared into that Void where the Lost Socks go.

The latest Wildlife Adventure with The Girls happened yesterday. Rebekah came in and said, "Mama, Jasmine is playing with something. It's kind of long and squiggly." I looked at her strangely.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Well, it's bigger than a worm, but it's smaller than a snake."

"What colour is it?"

"It's black. I think."

"You think."

"Um. Yeah."

It sounded to me like our youngest feline member had a baby snake. I walked out front to investigate. By this time, Jasmine was in the cul-de-sac, and the "squiggly thing" she had previously had in her mouth was beside her. It looked as if it was following her! And yes, folks, it was, indeed, a baby snake! I told Rebekah as much, and she proceeded to freak out. I rolled my eyes at her and told her to chill out. It was a garden snake and a baby one, at that.

Seconds after that, Jasmine had the snake back in her mouth and ran back toward our driveway with it, where she dropped it and proceeded to bat it around like a catnip toy. I thought for sure she had killed the little bugger since it wasn't moving at this point. After a few seconds, our ADD cat grew bored and moved on, finding something else to attract her attention. As soon as she was away, the snake uncoiled itself and took off like a bat out of hell, heading straight for the grass! When my mom heard the story, she asked, "Why didn't you kill it?!" Um, because it was a harmless garden snake? I mean, I'm not going to ask it in for tea or dinner, but I'm not going to kill a perfectly harmless, non-poisonous snake, either!

Today, the darling Czech Pecker mowed the front lawn. He didn't see any evidence of the baby snake or his family. I suppose they put it out on the snake network that the Lazurek Funny Farm is not a safe place to be for the reptile community. Between the dogs and the cats, there is no telling what might happen to them!

I have PMS and a Tater Gun

I recently told some friends that I have the Three T's of Redneck-dom. I have my Truck--the B.A.T. mobile--a tattoo--it's a cool tattoo, a wolf to symbolize my Cherokee background. Grandma Sally was part of the Wolf Clan--and a Tater gun. What is a tater gun? If you're from the South, at least the rural South, you probably don't have to ask; however, since my kids go to a Catholic school where a large majority of the families are transplants from up North, they often view me as a rather different sort of specimen, something akin to Granny Clampett.

A tater gun, my friends, is made from PVC pipe. Shove a potato in one end of that sucker, then at the other end, spray some cheap hairspray with a high alcohol content, something like Aquanet, close the end cap quickly, then flick the switch, like a lighter, then watch that tater fly! My tater gun came to me courtesy my brother in Kentucky. He was talking about some of his escapades with a tater gun, and I replied that it was an object that I absolutely HAD to have. He generously made one for me last summer when I was visiting my homestead in My Old Kentucky Home, and I proudly came back over the mountains with my very own tater gun!

So it's redneck. It's also great fun! Especially when the taters, all broken up into tiny pieces, end up in strange places with no apparent explanation. I like to blame it on the Potato Aliens, whom I suspect may or may not be related to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I reckon the tater gun is safer in my hands than a real gun, though. Take those PMS moments, for example. I REALLY don't look good in orange. In fact, it is quite hideous on me. I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a tater gun. Now that I reflect on it, I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a real gun.

In other news, the 13th of the month has come and passed. That means The Girls made their monthly jail break, just past midnight on the 13th. It happens every month, right around the 13th. The female dogs decided to escape. I don't know the meaning of it or if they are actually hiding small calendars in their kennels, under their dog houses so they know exactly when it's time to dig out, but we've taken note, and next month, we'll be ready for them!

In the meantime, I have discovered this game at Animal Planet: Pimp Your Pooch! I have been having WAY too much fun with this...more fun than an adult woman should. Some days, it doesn't take much to amuse me.

Wednesday Morning Thoughts

Does life ever slow down? Do I ever get a chance to just stop and smell my weed garden? Not very often.

I decided to take a breather today, and I am reflecting on the past week. Here are some of my thoughts:

I am still saddened over the Kentucky Derby triumph and tragedy of the filly, Eight Belles. While my pick had been Colonel John (who came in 6th), I admit to cheering as she ran her heart out to pass up all those male horses, coming in 2nd after Big Brown, only to collapse, two broken ankles, requiring euthanasia immediately to put her out of her pain. She was an incredibly amazing horse who died doing what horses like her love doing--racing for the finish line. R.I.P. beautiful girl.

Prior to the Derby, I received something else in the mail from the great Commonwealth of Kentucky, a package from my dad. It contained copies of some photographs that I had been wanting, photos of my great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents, my grandfather in his Army uniform and on the ship where he was an Island Hopper in World War II. He joined up with the Army almost immediately after graduating from medical school in 1942. I am now looking for some old-fashioned looking photo frames, and I am going to start a "Heritage Wall" in one of my rooms.

On Friday, the darling Czech Pecker came home with a surprise gift for me! Here is a picture of it:

It's a Native American Mandella, a spiritual shield for the home. The white wolf on it looks almost exactly like Dougal, our white Husky, the Alpha male of our pack! Also, my Cherokee family were members of the Wolf Clan, so it has meaning in that sense, too.

Additional thoughts for today before I head out:

Spring Cleaning: It sucks, but it must be done. I'm plugging away at it, but as I said, I'm taking a break from all work today.

Spring Allergies: They suck even worse. I bet Spring Cleaning doesn't help any. Thus, my reason for taking a break today.

My dogs are eerily quiet right now. I bet they're plotting something.

Goats

I seriously want some goats. I've been wanting some goats for some time now. Being in the city limits, though, there is an ordinance against having farm animals, dammit all. Once we get some land in the country, though...

I don't know why I have this thing for goats. Maybe it's because I'm a Capricorn. Maybe it's just because I'm a little bit odd. Whatever it is, I just think goats are kind of cool. Think of the benefits. They're a petrol-free alternative to keeping the grass low. Of course, I'm sure they keep other forms of landscaping down, too, but we have Huskies, so gardening and pretty flowers have never been a big deal at our place. And what about goat milk and cheese? I never really gave serious thought to becoming a goat dairy farmer, but hey...it might be entertaining and enlightening.

Goats just seem to have a presence. And those pygmy goats...is there anything cuter?

Speaking of goats, take a gander at these guys, Myotonic, or fainting, goats:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGz97dxGHV8&feature=related

What a hoot! I don't think it would be a good idea for us to have them, though. They would constantly be keeling over with the Huskies romping around, howling and yodeling. No, I think we need some goats who can give the Huskies a good head butt in the, well, butt, from time to time, just to keep them in line!

Land, Ho!

The darling Czech Pecker and I are on a mission from God. Okay, not a mission from God. We're just on a mission. We're on a search for some land. We're looking for about 3 to 5 acres, not a lot, just enough to put up a modest house and give the dogs room to run and howl. Most importantly, it will be OUTSIDE the city limits.

See, we are currently within the city limits, and it sucks. Big time. Let's talk about somebody complaining about the noise from our dogs and calling Animal Control on us. Yes. Somebody complained about my dogs barking. Now, Huskies rarely "bark," at least in the way that other breeds bark. Huskies have a unique way of communicating that is a cross between wolf howl, yodel, bark, and an attempt to imitate human talking and singing. If you've ever been around a Husky or Malamute or any other Northern breed, you know what I'm talking about. Alone, it's no big deal, but if you have a small pack, like I do, they can sometimes engage in a small cacophony of communication. They are usually at their loudest when we humans are with them because we talk to them, and they talk back to us. Evidently, this is a no-no within the city limits of our small town that thinks it's more important than it really is.

Oh, the visit by the Barney Fife-like Animal Control officer was quite amusing. The darling Czech Pecker showed him our kennels, told him that the dogs were neutered and spayed (or scheduled to be). The guy asked what our "purpose" was with the dogs. Um, did he think we were running a Siberian Husky dog fighting ring or something? The darling Czech Pecker looked at him oddly and replied, "They're PETS." He later told me that he thought about replying that with all of the SNOW we get around here, we're training for the Iditarod, but chances are, Mr. Barney Fife Wannabe has no idea what that is. He probably even thinks Alaska is a foreign country.

SO, we are searching for a place OUTSIDE the city limits with enough room for us all to Husky talk all we want. As for whomever complained about the "noise" from my dogs, may he/she be plagued by an unexplained, non-stop ringing in the ears that is 100 times more annoying than the occasional dog howl or bark.

Reports of My Death Have Been Almost Exaggerated

I've seriously been running around here like a crazy woman the past few weeks. Okay, so I'm always a bit on the psychotic side, but it's been crazy turned up to 11 lately.

First, J.P. made his First Communion! And there was much rejoicing....yay! Here he is in his mafia suit, looking suitably holy and all:

It was an exciting day, for many reasons. The Mass itself was lovely, and it was certainly very moving to watch my son receive Communion for the very first time. Afterwards, we walked over to Croghan Hall for a short reception and to chat with some friends. We had plans for a family party in downtown Greenville after this, so we picked up the cake that I had ordered from Maria, who makes the BEST cakes ever, and headed toward Sticky Fingers BBQ. Maria had delivered all of the Communion cakes that she had made for everyone to the church, so it was convenient for us.

This is when the real FUN started. The cake I had ordered was 3 tiers with a First Communion boy figure on top. On our way downtown, THE BOTTOM TIER STARTED TO COLLAPSE! By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the bottom tier was smashed, and my hands were covered in cake in my attempt to hold up the cake to keep the rest of it from falling. The good news: the top 2 tiers remained intact. This, I told the darling Czech Pecker, earned me an extra beer.

At the restaurant, the food was fabulous, naturally. We're all BBQ whores, and Sticky Fingers has some great BBQ. I had that extra beer, too, and it's a good thing because the next INTERESTING thing happened after the party.

We were leaving the parking garage, and the gates were stuck. Annette was at one exit, these women at the exit beside her, and a cop was behind them, trying to get someone on the phone from the City of Greenville to come fix the gates. We were behind the cop. We got out and were looking at the gates, seeing if they could be forced up in some way without breaking them. And THEN, the cop car slipped out of gear and started rolling back TOWARD MY BRAND NEW TRUCK THAT I HAD ALL OF TWO DAYS! The darling Czech Pecker bought it as an early Mother's Day gift for me, a Chevy Silverado. My mother and grandmother are giving me hell over it because they think it looks weird for a woman to drive, in the words of my grandmother, "a big ass truck." I am now calling it my B.A.T. Mobile and am looking to get some magnetic bat symbols to go on my doors. Then, I could yell out in my official voice, "Kids! Dogs! To the B.A.T. Mobile!"

Anyway, back to the Parking Garage Incident. According to the kids, I let out a high pitched, "eeeeeek" although I don't recall it. They're still giving me hell over it. Fortunately, the cop jumped in his car and caught it but it still tapped the front bumper of my truck. The damage is very minimal, though, and you can't see it until you are right up on it. An adjuster for the city came out yesterday, and they will be paying to get it fixed.

After First Communion, I had to switch gears into POP ART, the school's annual fundraiser. There were mosaic projects to be finished, and I worked on those until I was seeing tiles and grout in my sleep. By the time the actual party arrived, I was a bit loopy, and I added to it by indulging in several cosmos. I slept very well the next morning.

THE DOGS are keeping me busy, as ever. We've been treating the pups, Mac and Kate, for demodex, but the initial treatment was not working very well, especially for Mac. I took them back to the vet this past week, and now they are on another treatment. Today is Day 5, and I can already tell a difference. Maia had her spay appointment last week, and Skyy has her appointment next week. Dougal is still going on his toy raids. Mojo and Natasha are still fussing just to hear each other "talk." Sitka still likes to stand there and sing arias because she has a big mouth. As for the "little guys," Wiggles still thinks he's a Husky, and Dudley is spoiled rotten and thinks I have to carry him up and down the stairs. He's fooling us all, though. When he thought I wasn't looking, I saw him making the trek all by himself. Little jerk.

We're now doing the countdown until school is out for the summer. That is about the time when I will need your prayers to start in earnest.

Time to Celebrate!

It's celebration time in the Lazurek Funny Farm. Rebekah received her acceptance letter to St. Joseph's yesterday, and we're happy because that puts her in a Good Mood, at least for a while. Seriously, we are thrilled for her because it IS an accomplishment. On another note, though, it means the darling Czech Pecker and I are getting older because our little girl is going to be in MIDDLE SCHOOL this fall! When in bejeezus did THAT happen? It also means that her tuition is going to almost double going from elementary to middle school. That kid better appreciate the sacrifices. Do you KNOW what kind of shoe shopping I could be doing with that money? And some of the cute spring outfits I've come across that would actually flatter me...but I digress. We are seriously happy, and I think the upcoming years will be very good for Rebekah's academic and personal growth. I'm looking forward to it.