Deer are big, fast, some have antlers, some have babies, and they eat most everything in the yard. Although almost as many deer as people live in my neighborhood, that is the extent of what I know about deer. Well, that was the extent of what I knew about deer until this week.
I came home from walking the dogs and noticed what appeared to be a mound in my front yard next to the fence. My old eyes first thought it was a large mound of dirt - we do have fire ants here. Then I thought it might be a large plastic bag that blew against the fence - a much more acceptable option. But as I walked a little closer, I saw that is was a deer laying on the ground. It had a big belly and I was pretty sure it was close to birthing season. I had no idea what to do about it.
I called a neighbor who said that most of the time the deer give birth standing up but if they are having problems, they often lay down. Great, what do I do about a pregnant deer who is having problems in my front yard? Do I call a vet?
Deciding to get another opinion I called another neighbor who is pretty knowledgable about wildlife. I asked if he could just come by and see what he thought. He asked if it was breathing, and from my distant view - I wasn't going close - I couldn't tell. What if it jumped up and ran at me? Do deer have rabies? I could google, but I decided to wait for the expert opinion.
Soon my neighbor showed up and as gently as possible said "that deer is dead." I could see my IQ level going down in his estimation when he slowed his speech and enunciated his words when saying "Deer around here don't give birth for another two or three months. That swelling is from it being dead for at least a day or two." How did I not see it before? Now what do I do?
"You have a few options. We can drag it to the back of your truck and you can drive out to the country and dump it. You can call around to see if someone will take it away. Or you can bury it". I asked a rancher once what they did with a dead horse. He said they buried it. I couldn't imagine digging a hole big enough to bury a horse! Especially in rocky Texas!. Now I find that is one of my options. And in my opinion, it was the best. I just couldn't see myself driving around town with a dead deer in my truck. And how could I "fling" it out the back when I found a good place to do it? I didn't even want to get close to it in my yard. He said he would come back the next day to help me dig the hole.
After he left, another neighbor, a single "get-it-done" lady came over and offered to help me drag it down the street to her vacant lot and put it in the burn pile. Now, she lives about 1/2 a block away. "Yuck" was my first thought. Then I wondered what the other neighbors would think when they saw 2 older ladies dragging a deer down the road? I think there is a fine for killing a deer and I would not want to try to prove that it just up and keeled over in my yard. Besides, that thing would be heavy - and smelly. She then came up with the idea of bringing a wagon over and us hoisting the deer into the wagon to get it to her house. Now, the wagon is about 1/4 the size of the deer, and how would we lift the deer off of the ground enough to get it in to the wagon? And, how would we do it without getting too close to it? Maybe it's just me, but I couldn't even disect a frog in biology. I have to use a paper towel to pick up a dead insect. Carrying or even dragging a dead deer on to my truck or down my road did not appeal to me. So, it was back to the burying plan.
I got on Facebook to ask "how big of a hole do you dig to bury a deer". Responses were "Oh that poor deer", and "I'm so sorry for both of you." I would say "poor deer" also, if it hasn't chosen my front yard as it's last resting place. But no one gave me dimensions for a deer burial plot.
Deciding not to wait for my neighbor, I started gathering all of my digging tools and then looked for a place to start working. I just couldn't bring myself to get too close to the "poor" deer - sorry I lost my compassion for the deer hours ago and was feeling sorry for myself. I finally decided to dig close but not where I would have to look at it with each shovel full of dirt. I am not the most physically fit person - but I was on a mission. To reward myself for my hard work, I took a break every 15 minutes or so to get my strengh back. Cookies help. Every time I was sure I got the hole big enough, I would eyeball the deer, sigh in disgust, and dig wider and deeper. I think the deer in our neighborhood are overfed.
The next day, my neighbor came over and finished the job for me. I will leave out the gory details but suffice to say I could not have done what he did. I let him know how much I appreciated his help with this and was thankful that the ordeal was over when he commented as he was leaving "Just watch that dogs or coyotes don't dig it up". Ahhh, crap. I run to my computer to google "how to keep a deer buried".
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
I Hate Resealable Food Bags
I know those are strong words, but has anyone ever really been able to open those bags and reseal them? It is not possible. It doesn't matter which food you get in those bags, they all must have been invented by the same drunk inventor - who is related to the head of the big food companies.
I have tried sliced cheese resealable bags, sliced luncheon meats, salad mix and guacamole, and none of those bags reseal. Some make you think they are different because they give you a little groove to help you start opening the bag. But when you tear along that groove, it doesn't even open the bag enough to get to your food, so you still have to find another way to open it. If you aren't at home, and may have bought the food for a relaxing picnic in the park, you have the challenge of how to open the bag without the benefit of sharp tools. I try a plastic knife - no luck. I try the little blade or little scissors that come on a pen knife, if I remember to bring one. As precisely as possible, I cut or tear just above the sealing part and I still can't get to the food.
Finally I just stab the bag below the seal with a plastic fork or pen and pull the meat or cheese out - because I'm getting hungry. Now I have no chance to keep my food fresh by zipping that sucker closed but I have gotten rid of some of my frustration.
Depending on where I am, I can do one of three things. I can find a bigger zip lock bag or a plastic bag to put the food back in and hope it keeps for a few days. I can look for a paper clip or bobby pin to reseal the bag as best I can. Or I can eat the remaining food in the bag and throw away that "convenient" resealable bag. Depending on my hunger, I make my choice.
I think there should be a "truth in advertising" label on these products. "This item will most likely not reseal, so don't count on it. Always have a pair of scissors or knife handy when opening. Do not put the plastic bag over your head."
I have tried sliced cheese resealable bags, sliced luncheon meats, salad mix and guacamole, and none of those bags reseal. Some make you think they are different because they give you a little groove to help you start opening the bag. But when you tear along that groove, it doesn't even open the bag enough to get to your food, so you still have to find another way to open it. If you aren't at home, and may have bought the food for a relaxing picnic in the park, you have the challenge of how to open the bag without the benefit of sharp tools. I try a plastic knife - no luck. I try the little blade or little scissors that come on a pen knife, if I remember to bring one. As precisely as possible, I cut or tear just above the sealing part and I still can't get to the food.
Finally I just stab the bag below the seal with a plastic fork or pen and pull the meat or cheese out - because I'm getting hungry. Now I have no chance to keep my food fresh by zipping that sucker closed but I have gotten rid of some of my frustration.
Depending on where I am, I can do one of three things. I can find a bigger zip lock bag or a plastic bag to put the food back in and hope it keeps for a few days. I can look for a paper clip or bobby pin to reseal the bag as best I can. Or I can eat the remaining food in the bag and throw away that "convenient" resealable bag. Depending on my hunger, I make my choice.
I think there should be a "truth in advertising" label on these products. "This item will most likely not reseal, so don't count on it. Always have a pair of scissors or knife handy when opening. Do not put the plastic bag over your head."
Friday, February 24, 2012
I Need To Remember My Toothbrush When I Walk My Dogs
I am now the proud owner of two dogs. I thought that Seymour needed a companion and my life was getting a little too predictable. Zooey is our new rescue - cute as a walking 3 pound mop - but fearful of everything, including walking on a leash. Seymour had knee surgery 2 weeks ago, so has been practicing walking on 3 legs. Actually he is also learning to walk on only his 2 front legs when he wants to pee on something that is located on his bad side. Yes, the normal dog would just turn around, but no one who knows Seymour would ever call him "normal".
Back to our walk. Our neighborhood walk is a circle that is about a mile around. Both dogs get excited when I say "Let's go for a walk" after dinner. When I get them ready with their harnesses and right leashes, Zooey realizes what "walk" means and she runs for her bed, still leashed. Seymour, on the other hand, runs toward the door while attached to his leash. My arms are stretched like I am getting ready to fly. I pull Seymour toward Zooey, pick her up and open the door for Seymour so at least he he can enjoy his 3 legged walk.
As we start around the circle, I put Zooey down to see if she will get the hang of walking. I noticed that if she is facing any way but toward me, she doesn't seem to be able to move. She is like a little hot wheels car. The wheels/legs only go one direction so you have to physically pick it up and face it in the direction you want it to go. So as Seymour is straining to go one direction, I have to try not to pull him over as I go back to Zooey to head her in our direction. Then sometimes she will start walking, and sometimes she won't.
In the meantime, Seymour is playing his "poor me" surgery card by walking slowly, sniffing at every blade of grass, weed or tree he passes, and periodically circling round and round to get in the best position to pee a few drops. Fifteen minutes and about 50 feet away from our front door, I am unable to coax either dog to go back to the house. I am wondering if we will get around the circle before the sun sets.
Zooey decides she is ready to walk and Seymour decides he is ready to be carried - but not home, mind you. He wants to smell the air and look for deer from his perch in my arms. After a short time, he cranes his neck toward the ground; he is ready to walk again. It is now about 30 minutes into the walk and we have gone about 1/8 of a mile. Zooey periodically flops down on the street, content to sleep there for awhile. Seymour decides that he has to explore to the end of his leash, the direction opposite from where Zooey is snoozing. I finally stretch as far as i can toward Zooey so i won't topple Seymour over, and pick her up. I let Seymour continue his exploring, poor boy.
One hour and about 1/2 mile into our walk, the sun is starting to set. It will be pitch dark soon. No matter which way we go, it is still the same distance home. I can either carry both dogs or ask one of the neighbors if we can bed down in their yard until morning. But I forgot my toothbrush.
Back to our walk. Our neighborhood walk is a circle that is about a mile around. Both dogs get excited when I say "Let's go for a walk" after dinner. When I get them ready with their harnesses and right leashes, Zooey realizes what "walk" means and she runs for her bed, still leashed. Seymour, on the other hand, runs toward the door while attached to his leash. My arms are stretched like I am getting ready to fly. I pull Seymour toward Zooey, pick her up and open the door for Seymour so at least he he can enjoy his 3 legged walk.
As we start around the circle, I put Zooey down to see if she will get the hang of walking. I noticed that if she is facing any way but toward me, she doesn't seem to be able to move. She is like a little hot wheels car. The wheels/legs only go one direction so you have to physically pick it up and face it in the direction you want it to go. So as Seymour is straining to go one direction, I have to try not to pull him over as I go back to Zooey to head her in our direction. Then sometimes she will start walking, and sometimes she won't.
In the meantime, Seymour is playing his "poor me" surgery card by walking slowly, sniffing at every blade of grass, weed or tree he passes, and periodically circling round and round to get in the best position to pee a few drops. Fifteen minutes and about 50 feet away from our front door, I am unable to coax either dog to go back to the house. I am wondering if we will get around the circle before the sun sets.
Zooey decides she is ready to walk and Seymour decides he is ready to be carried - but not home, mind you. He wants to smell the air and look for deer from his perch in my arms. After a short time, he cranes his neck toward the ground; he is ready to walk again. It is now about 30 minutes into the walk and we have gone about 1/8 of a mile. Zooey periodically flops down on the street, content to sleep there for awhile. Seymour decides that he has to explore to the end of his leash, the direction opposite from where Zooey is snoozing. I finally stretch as far as i can toward Zooey so i won't topple Seymour over, and pick her up. I let Seymour continue his exploring, poor boy.
One hour and about 1/2 mile into our walk, the sun is starting to set. It will be pitch dark soon. No matter which way we go, it is still the same distance home. I can either carry both dogs or ask one of the neighbors if we can bed down in their yard until morning. But I forgot my toothbrush.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Am I Tasteless or Timeless?
I am starting to see a pattern and it appears to be telling me that I may not be as cool and hip as I thought I was. I regularly and avidly read the section of popular magazines called "who wore it better?". I always cover the answer while I study the picture with the eye of a frequent "Project Runway" and "America's Next Top Model" viewer. So you can see I am pretty well trained. I select my choice and look at the answer - 95% of the time I'm wrong. Maybe not "wrong" in my book, but "wrong" according to whatever low class people they survey to get their answers. I think that I can put myself together quite nicely, when needed. I can mix and match things in my wardrobe with items that even surprise me. But I can't seem to tell "who wore it better". That in itself didn't mean I wasn't cool.
Then I started reviewing things I bought through Amazon. I love writing comments about all of the cool things I now own. I take it very seriously but try to add a little humor to brighten people's days. I'm considerate that way. After a few weeks, I went back to my reviews to see if people gave me "helpful votes". Yes, I certainly got a few but not the big numbers I have seen on some reviews. Then I noticed that many of my cool products were no longer available. Unfortunately I don't think it was because they were so popular that they ran out of them. I think that most people just never knew they needed them. So my "anti theft strap" or as I call it now "a long plastic strap with a "thingy" on the end" and my cool folding dog dish are no more - unavailable.
Could my taste be in question or am I just ahead of the rest of the population? Am I style-innovative or style-less? Did I miss a season of "Project Accessory"? Does Amazon laugh at my purchases or are they in awe of my choices? Maybe I'm just uniquely eclectic - yeah, that's it. Come on world, catch up!
Then I started reviewing things I bought through Amazon. I love writing comments about all of the cool things I now own. I take it very seriously but try to add a little humor to brighten people's days. I'm considerate that way. After a few weeks, I went back to my reviews to see if people gave me "helpful votes". Yes, I certainly got a few but not the big numbers I have seen on some reviews. Then I noticed that many of my cool products were no longer available. Unfortunately I don't think it was because they were so popular that they ran out of them. I think that most people just never knew they needed them. So my "anti theft strap" or as I call it now "a long plastic strap with a "thingy" on the end" and my cool folding dog dish are no more - unavailable.
Could my taste be in question or am I just ahead of the rest of the population? Am I style-innovative or style-less? Did I miss a season of "Project Accessory"? Does Amazon laugh at my purchases or are they in awe of my choices? Maybe I'm just uniquely eclectic - yeah, that's it. Come on world, catch up!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Wanderlust Dog
They say that children watch and learn everything that their parents say and do. And when I say "everything" I mean when parents say "where did they hear that word?" everything. I think my dog child is doing the same thing.
We just got back from a long trip overseas and he was a trouper. He seemed to be very excited to be home. But now when I try to walk him in our neighborhood, he drags himself around like he is on his last leg. His tail is low, he walks so slow that I have to keep turning around to be sure he hasn't fallen asleep standing up. After walking about three houses away, he stops and won't move until I call him to me. Then he does a little hop to help me pick him up and is content to finish his walk in my arms. Do you know how stupid it looks carrying a dog on his walk? I seriously thought he might be dying of something. I took him to the vet because he has the beginning of hip displasia and started talking about surgery. These walks around the block were worrying me and I was ready to say yes to the surgery - poor guy.
Then I took him with me to do a little shopping and opened the door to get him out of the car to walk in the field of the Target parking lot. I went to gently pick him up - poor guy - when he just about jumped over me to get out the door. His tail was wagging furiously, he was prancing and running every way he could within leash length. I could barely keep up with him as he headed for the field while stopping to do a few pee drops on any tree or bush we passed. After about 20 minutes, we headed back to the car. When I opened the door, he put on is doggie breaks, back on the heals of all four paws, and refused to get in the car. I think this is one of the times he hates that he is only 7 pounds because I just lift him up, stiff legs and all and settle him back into the car.
By the time we are home, he has become Mr Gloomy Dog again. I kinda understand the feeling because I get excited when we travel. I think we can put off that surgery for now and instead get out the maps. He is so much like me - is it nature or nurture?
We just got back from a long trip overseas and he was a trouper. He seemed to be very excited to be home. But now when I try to walk him in our neighborhood, he drags himself around like he is on his last leg. His tail is low, he walks so slow that I have to keep turning around to be sure he hasn't fallen asleep standing up. After walking about three houses away, he stops and won't move until I call him to me. Then he does a little hop to help me pick him up and is content to finish his walk in my arms. Do you know how stupid it looks carrying a dog on his walk? I seriously thought he might be dying of something. I took him to the vet because he has the beginning of hip displasia and started talking about surgery. These walks around the block were worrying me and I was ready to say yes to the surgery - poor guy.
Then I took him with me to do a little shopping and opened the door to get him out of the car to walk in the field of the Target parking lot. I went to gently pick him up - poor guy - when he just about jumped over me to get out the door. His tail was wagging furiously, he was prancing and running every way he could within leash length. I could barely keep up with him as he headed for the field while stopping to do a few pee drops on any tree or bush we passed. After about 20 minutes, we headed back to the car. When I opened the door, he put on is doggie breaks, back on the heals of all four paws, and refused to get in the car. I think this is one of the times he hates that he is only 7 pounds because I just lift him up, stiff legs and all and settle him back into the car.
By the time we are home, he has become Mr Gloomy Dog again. I kinda understand the feeling because I get excited when we travel. I think we can put off that surgery for now and instead get out the maps. He is so much like me - is it nature or nurture?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Allergy Season
Around here, allergy season is all year. Because of that, I am constantly on the look out for allergy medication that actually works. It seems like the best drugs for allergies are hidden behind the pharmacy counter. I finally decide to try those extra special allergy boxes I can only see from a distance.
To get them, you have to show your driver's license, sign something important and watch the pharmacy tech eye you up. I know they are looking for terrorist-looking people who need these pills to build something bad. I try to look as normal as possible with my runny, downward turned eyes (looking up hurts), the heavy breathing (my lungs sound like there is a party of mice in there), messy hair ( looking in the mirror means I have to "look up" - and as I said before - that hurts!) and wrinkled day old clothes (my chest hurts too much to lift the iron).
I croak, "Another hot one, huh? Is that the largest box you can sell me? I'm just asking because I have these allergies, really." I see them look over at the phone, so I back off with the pleading look.
I choose the 42 pack of 24 hour pills and head to the car with my stash. I'm tired, I'm sick and I need my drugs. Opening the stapled bag, I read the front of the box. "Non-Drowsy Extended Relief". I guess those drug manufacturers know what they are doing. I take 2 pills and drive home.
Eighteen hours later, I am still sneezing, wheezing and runny - but I'm wide awake. At least the "non drowsy" part seems to be working. Maybe that's so we allery sufferers can make it to a 24 hour pharmacy to purchase another kind of medication. Smart folks, those drug manufacturers!
To get them, you have to show your driver's license, sign something important and watch the pharmacy tech eye you up. I know they are looking for terrorist-looking people who need these pills to build something bad. I try to look as normal as possible with my runny, downward turned eyes (looking up hurts), the heavy breathing (my lungs sound like there is a party of mice in there), messy hair ( looking in the mirror means I have to "look up" - and as I said before - that hurts!) and wrinkled day old clothes (my chest hurts too much to lift the iron).
I croak, "Another hot one, huh? Is that the largest box you can sell me? I'm just asking because I have these allergies, really." I see them look over at the phone, so I back off with the pleading look.
I choose the 42 pack of 24 hour pills and head to the car with my stash. I'm tired, I'm sick and I need my drugs. Opening the stapled bag, I read the front of the box. "Non-Drowsy Extended Relief". I guess those drug manufacturers know what they are doing. I take 2 pills and drive home.
Eighteen hours later, I am still sneezing, wheezing and runny - but I'm wide awake. At least the "non drowsy" part seems to be working. Maybe that's so we allery sufferers can make it to a 24 hour pharmacy to purchase another kind of medication. Smart folks, those drug manufacturers!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Pre-Preparation
I'm getting ready to go to Italy and take a basic class in Italian. To get prepared I am:
1. Reviewing an Italian phrase book;
2. Listening over and over to the first CD out of 5 on how to speak Italian;
3. Reviewing an Italian Immersion training; and
4. Taking a course in "Italian for Travelers".
And I still can only say about 4 words in Italian (which I would not recognize if I saw them in writing) - "where", "excuse me", "good", and "bathroom". I'm not saying that those aren't very useful words, but I find myself with performance anxiety when I actually have to use them in a real situation. That is why I need lots of pre-practice before I talk my class in Italy. I also don't want my teacher to know I had all of this training before my class because that would mean they would expect me to know something. I really think that my brain is full and I have to unlearn something before I can shove more information in.
I need to dispose of all of the tidbits of gossip I know about starlettes and hunks - except for Johnnie Depp. My brain needs to declutter from addresses and phone numbers I had when I was a kid. And there is no reason my brain should continue to hold on to names of people I dislike.
Wouldn't it be nice to just click a button on the side of your head to defrag abd clean up the brain cells to make them more efficient? I know that Italian would come easier if I could do that.
1. Reviewing an Italian phrase book;
2. Listening over and over to the first CD out of 5 on how to speak Italian;
3. Reviewing an Italian Immersion training; and
4. Taking a course in "Italian for Travelers".
And I still can only say about 4 words in Italian (which I would not recognize if I saw them in writing) - "where", "excuse me", "good", and "bathroom". I'm not saying that those aren't very useful words, but I find myself with performance anxiety when I actually have to use them in a real situation. That is why I need lots of pre-practice before I talk my class in Italy. I also don't want my teacher to know I had all of this training before my class because that would mean they would expect me to know something. I really think that my brain is full and I have to unlearn something before I can shove more information in.
I need to dispose of all of the tidbits of gossip I know about starlettes and hunks - except for Johnnie Depp. My brain needs to declutter from addresses and phone numbers I had when I was a kid. And there is no reason my brain should continue to hold on to names of people I dislike.
Wouldn't it be nice to just click a button on the side of your head to defrag abd clean up the brain cells to make them more efficient? I know that Italian would come easier if I could do that.
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