Niblet Knows: August 2011

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Ratatoullie, the Final Chapter

I was told that at girls' camp this summer, a few of the young ladies were quite freaked out by all the bugs. (They're up in the woods, what'd they expect?) Even when having a wonderfully spiritual fireside testimony meeting, one or two couldn't help but shriek when a insect came their way.

To help with the situation, to make the ladies feel safer, one of the older girls was quick to step on the invaders, to hopefully keep a more peaceful atmosphere.
But that didn't make Kara happy, it pierces her heart to see any creature killed, even the bugs. So, what brought a feeling of safety to some was bringing pain to another. For the most part, we are usually all quite afraid of small invaders.

Why is it we do that? I remember being terrified of spiders when little, waking my dad when I was 7 with my cries in the middle of the night so that he had to come into the bathroom and kill a scary spider.

Now my arachnophobia is greatly diminished, and if I am able, I'll capture the critter and carry him outside to find more food than he'd catch inside my house.

I am NOT so generous with scorpions. Those are dispatched with great alacrity; And I've watched enough movies to know that if I turn away for even a second, the Monster will somehow disappear from view! So after quelling my desire to run the other way, I grab the biggest nearby weapon I can find and - PETA be damned - I just whack away at it! (I believe their recommendation is catch and release.) I do run the risk of it being a momma with a hundred microscopic babies living on her back, but that kind of reasoning flies out the window when faced with something that somehow represents SURE DEATH as it is meandering across my family room carpet.

My friend Donna in TX reports that her kitty has alerted her several times to a scorpion in the house. That would be so helpful. We see them maybe once or twice a month. (And I shudder to think of the ones we are NOT seeing.)

So that brings me back to having a yucky roof rat living in my garage. He had ample opportunity to leave, to go find food and water elsewhere. But he chose to settle in, and we just couldn't allow it. They can carry disease, they chew through walls, even. He had to go.

I won't go into the details of his death, but it pained me to do it. Our fellow creatures on this planet deserve our respect, (and it didn't help that we've had rats for pets and know they can be very smart and very clean animals.) But I've always drawn the line with the creatures that invade my space, *I* hold dominion over my home, and this one just couldn't be scooped into a glass and carried out to a bush. He, or SHE, is one of millions that are overrunning the valley here, loving all the citrus trees especially.
Big, gray roof rats

are true vermin.

R.I.P. Remy.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Ratatouille Two

After discovering a rodent had mistaken our garage for the Vermin B n B,
( Yesterdaday's post ) Monday morning I went to clean out the rodent droppings. Sweeping seemed like it would take a long time, so I figured out how to work the leaf blower and proceeded clearing all the dust and dry leaves and rat poop out of my garage. I assume that THAT will be how I know if there is still a rat out there, if we once again see droppings. Gross.
As I was literally closing the door and envisioning a long shower to get all the garage dust out of my hair, I remembered Jim wanted the leaves blown out of the yard.
How hard could that be? So I hooked up a longer extension cord and started on the walkway at the front door. Man, that blower is powerful! But I got the hang of it, blowing the leaves out closer to the street... then I went over to right side, blowing some more, but then those leaves didn't just fly toward the street like I'd planned, some are back over on the walkway. Hmmmm, this was more like work, it took longer than I thought. Back and forth across the yard, inching forward.
And then I realized I was creating a pile out there on the sidewalk; Who's gonna pick THAT up?? We have a green barrell for recycling yard waste, but they don't make giant dustpans for transferring TO said barrell.
I remembered then that there was this cloth bag you could suck the leaves into.
Once I found that, I had to figure out how to make my blower a 'sucker' instead. I went inside and got Reeder, and we both looked at the machine; we couldn't get the large plastic tube (I'd found it hiding behind some shelves,) to attach. He was on the phone anyway with his sister, Rose, so he gave up and went back into the house, and I went back to my pile of leaves. After just the 2nd dirty handful, I KNEW this was work. I should be inside drinking lemonade and being straw boss to some scout who'd gladly do it all for 10 bucks. I determined I'd try again with that blower. I sized it up again and found there was a ring that pops out to allow room for the larger tube. NOW I can suck up the leaves! Way faster than bending and scooping over and over. So I went out and vacuumed my yard and the street, careful not to pick up rocks or big sticks.

As I was putting it back in the garage, I spied this cool branch trimmer hanging on the wall. Its long yellow handle and spring and sharpness were all too inviting. I looked over at my shaggy Charlie Brown tree and surmised Charlie needs a trim! I just wanted an excuse to hoist another sharp yard tool. This one is fun, you reach up high and hook the curved metal over a branch, then jerking downward hard brings up a blade that neatly severs the limb. (which then MIGHT come crashing down on your head... not that that would ever happen to me.) I started cutting (avoiding a nest I could see up there.) Reach, cut. Reach, cut.
Several jerks later, I was asea in green branches and forced myself to stop, knowing my recycle bin only holds so much. So I carried an armload over to the barrell, and began cutting the long branches to fit inside.

That's when I spied him, a pale green praying Mantis!

I hadn't seen one since moving from Mass, he was so cute!
"Wait!" I said to him, "don't crawl down into the barrell!"
I cut a little twig off and carefully coaxed him onto it. Then holding it close to my chest, I walked back around to Charlie Brown. I pulled down a branch and let the little guy climb up onto its leaves. He quickly began his assent back home, despite my requests he pause for a photo-op. Luckily my phone was in my pocket!
(He's the little white 'stick' near the top of the photo.)

I now could go shower in peace, knowing I'd saved a life. Maybe two, if the rat had the sense to leave my garage.

I haven't checked, I'll do that now and report back.

ARGGHH!! He is NOT gone, and he left a calling card. At my door!!

I opened the door from the laundry room into the garage, so I could check the corners for some evidence, some vermin feces....

"Oh, look, You've got mail!"

I see some letters I'd dropped as I came in last night; I thought I'd picked them all up, but must've missed these.

But look closely, folks!! The little ratfink actually started opening the mail!!

And then pooped on it, his own little crappy calling card saying,

"Take that, you silly humans - You ain't getting rid of ME so easily!!"

This doesn't end here.

Monday, August 29, 2011

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

I love the little book about the mouse who seems to take every advantage after being given a cookie; one thing leads to another with him.
My morning has been kind of like that, but it didn't begin with a mouse. It began with a RAT!
A rat. In. Our. Garage! That is what we've surmised. A few days ago I noticed some droppings out there and realized there was SOME little animal taking up residence. Perhaps the droppings had been there a few days, I don't know. But then on Saturday I saw it, a dark blur dashed under my car when I entered the garage! And of course I would have totally freaked out had I not seen the droppings, but I kept my calm and carefully knelt and looked under the car.

Nothing.

I don't know what I expected, maybe some critter sitting there trembling, holding his tail and sheepishly looking up at me, like Remy from “Ratatouille.” But this rat had quickly found another hiding place, and I made a new resolve to plan out some form of extermination.

The options I figured were: Find a live trap and then truck him way out to live in the desert or mountains? Sure death in this heat, one would think. Or there was surer death, by one of those snapping mousetraps we used to use when we were kids. Do they even make those any more??

(I asked a neighbor about it and he told me they do. When his daughters roomed together in college, he brought them one when they realized they had a mouse in their apartment. One night they heard a SNAP in the other room and ran to see the dead mouse. They found instead their neighbor's hamster! How sad is THAT?!)

A third option: I actually have a resident TERRIER! She was made for this very hunt. After some useless coaxing, I literally carried Maggie out to the garage, she did NOT want to go out there with me. She knew I never invited her out at night into the dim garage, something definitely was up. But once out there I figured I'd get her all excited and she'd sniff around and locate the little creature. She used to chase cats insufferably, this was right up her alley! I acted all excited and interested, looking and looking around the garage, making it clear there was definitely something she should be hunting for.
But she failed miserably at this, offering only a few wussy sniffs and then giving me a look like, “Whatever are you talking about, Woman?” So I let her go back into the house.

Then Saturday night I opened the back door of the garage a few hours before bed, hoping the hungry rat would decide the dark outside held far better possibilities than did my dry, food-less garage.

Sunday I noticed more droppings. Are there really more? Or maybe I'm just really attuned and noticing them all the more. The jury is still out on that one, it will be a few days before I decide whether or not a trap is necessary. Stay tuned. Because trust me, you want to hear about how rat poop removal led to leaf blowing, leading to vacuuming the yard and then even a trim for my Charlie Brown tree. Oh, and rescuing a very different sort of creature.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Channelling Paul Bunyan

Yesterday I got to wield an AXE!

We have this huge tree in front which I love - it is a Sissoo tree; the nursery man said the leaves were the closest thing to a quaking Aspen that can survive the Arizona heat. I miss Aspens, they seem to have a wonderful personality and they just make me think of cool, tall mountains.

But it has really gotten big and Jim keeps saying he wants to have it taken out. It gets pretty bushy and he worries it will get knocked over in a big storm and slammed right into our house. I defend it and its trembling leaves. I've loved it since it arrived our first winter - spindly and devoid of foliage... it looked so lonely and had like two leaves left after the truck ride from the nursery; Jenn Johnson called it our Charlie Brown tree.

But it grew big, right next to our grass, and that became a little bit of a problem. We had a front lawn for 10 years and the shallow watering brought the tree's roots to the surface. We began seeing an occasionaly sprig pop up in the lawn. We took out the lawn and they covered it all with plastic and rocks, but nature was not to be denied. 'Volunteer' trees started popping up here and there over several months. These tree-wannabees really were just branches themselves, coming up off of parts of the tree's root that saw enough sun, it got a rough bark and sent out these sprigs.

We kept trying to trim them short, but that didn't work; in fact, it made the opposite effect, they seemed to come back in force, multiplying like some magic dragon head - you cut it off and two more grow back.

So I got me an axe! Well, we had it hanging in the garage, we haven't used it for anything in AZ yet. I'd forgotten how heavy it was, and when I took it down I nearly lost control and put it through the car window! Whew, that was close.

But that weight is what makes it so effective. And evidently it is plenty sharp, it did such a wonderfully quick job hacking out these tree roots. I got out all but a big one in the middle of the yard that may require a chainsaw most likely. I'm sure Brent and Alec will LOVE that job!

The photo shows a clumpy one that had been down among the streambed near the street, it was quickly becoming a virtual forest. When I dug away all the stones and revealed the root, I could see it had become this fat knob full of baby tree branches. But 10 minutes of chopping away with the axe at the root on either side finally got it out. (preceded by 20 minutes of clearing away rocks and dirt under and around it so I wasn't whacking into all the rocks there.)

So there you have it, my deforestation of our little yard in the desert, something I NEVER thought I'd be doing after leaving the woods of Massachusetts!

Non-Talent

This morning as I was laying in bed thinking about getting up, I was considering some of the gifts and talents I have, a few of which are rather useless. The one at the forefront of my mind was just made aware to me as I lay there in the dark. Reeder got up and I realized I was awake, so I guessed what time it might be..... As in: Should I be getting up soon to walk, or can I go back to sleep? (the clock is over on the dresser, I have to put on my glasses to see the time.)
Judging by how much awake I felt, and knowing I'd gone to bed a little earlier than usual, and the smidge of light beginning to come in the window, I guessed 5:30. I fumbled for my glasses on the nightstand and peered over at the clock. 5:30! On the dot!! As Reeder climbs back into bed I HAVE to brag about this remarkable ability. The tired man is unimpressed and quickly falls back to sleep before his weird wife draws him further into inane conversation.
"He just lay there... it was his only defense."

So I got up.

I have always been able to tell the time pretty accurately without actually looking at the clock, and it's been a game over the years with the girls when we'd be out running errands. Before someone checks the clock, we'd all guess the time. They always hoped they'd be closer to the actual time than their mother. I stopped wearing a watch decades ago since we are usually surrounded by clocks anyway. And in the mall I had no compunction asking a passer-by for the time, to the abject embarassment of my daughters that their mother would just engage a complete stranger in conversation.
Once while out with a friend, this topic came up and I told her the game with the girls. So she asked me what time it was right then. I was like, "I don't know.... Ummmm, 2:28." She pulled out her cell phone and sure enough, 2:28! We laughed at that, I had just pulled some numbers out of a hat, I hadn't really put any thought into it.
Obviously this is a stupid ability. There are so many gifts that would be so much more useful! Like perfect pitch, or diagnosing disease (or I know you're thinking it, picking Lottery numbers. That would be sweet.)

On a very random note - I can juggle. I taught myself that 25 years ago and you would think that would be a pretty useless talent in a non-circus household, but it actually has some practicality, in a limited setting. When I am rummaging up in a cupboard or high in the pantry, and something accidentally comes sliding out, my hands automatically catch it as it falls. We usually only see the object out of the corner of the eye and then try to prevent it from falling, but our reaction time to bar it from coming off the shelf is just too late, and it crashes to the counter or floor. But my arms react differently now, I automatically reach down low and catch the item just before it hits the counter. It totally surprised me the first time I did that. This talent has only a tiny bit of value; but it has saved us much glassware.

I am good with words and names, and in doing genealogy that comes in very handy. And in meeting new people, too, in trying to remember names. Tho it helps me to see the names written. I guess I'm a visual learner.

But I shine when we are playing wordgames like scrabble and boggle (tho Chelsea has been beating me lately!) and one called WordTwist -where you are given 6 or 7 letters and have to unscramble and find as many words as possible, including the long word - forming words is a really nice trick, but has no use in real life, not really.
One night as Jim and I were sitting here watching TV, I was playing Word Twist on the laptop. I looked at the 7 letters and immediately knew the long word. It was something like A E L N S D C. I knew it the second I looked at it, and I turned to Jim and practically yelled, "What USE is that? So what if I can rapidly unscramble some letters and see a word? I am not a spy nor cryptologist, so it's pretty useless in everyday life here in Mesa, AZ."

Maybe I should go serve my government or something, or see if Dan Brown needs a writing assistant on his next novel.

I think now I shall go practice juggling. Maybe I will juggle candles.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Mr and Mrs Fixit

I was fixing something again today, I got to use the ratchet set!! And I had a little epiphany.

My father-in-law was an electrician for the city of Los Angeles. Reeder remembers going with his dad to the job, climbing up into the inner workings of buildings all over Los Angeles, including City Hall. He also got to go up on the mountains to see (and work on) the relay tower stations... all of it wonderful adventure for a kid.
And so he understands all things electrical. And while I bragged about fixing our ice maker (a second time the other day,) because I could figure out where the line was freezing and thaw it, HE replaced a part on our water softener and got it up and going again. He had studied it as it would try to run, then just stop part way through its cycle. He figured out where it was failing and then went and bought this little $8 part.
"I am so impressed you figured that out, I seriously pictured us dishing out several hundred bucks for a new unit this weekend." He answered,
"YEARS of working in the lab and repairing Gas Chromatograph machines. I simple had to study it to figure it out."

My epiphany came when I realized Jim is much like his dad in these things, and I am more like MY dad.
My dad has always been a jack-of-all-trades, and by profession, an engineer. No, he didn't drive trains (although, funny you should ask, he loves laying out model trains in his retirement.)
He designed engines and their paraphenalia for Hughes Aircraft in So California for many years. Then he was offered to go to design spaceships with NASA, but instead he stayed in So Cal and ended up working for Special Devices, Inc, where he designed stuff for the army. There was always a drafting table set up in his bedroom covered in plans. I remember once he was designing fake grenades for training purposes, that would 'explode' with some sort of dye, to show a soldier he was 'dead'.

I LOVED the exactness of those plans, the fine measurements involved, and his very neat printing. And he could always repair everything around the house.

So today, I set out to replace the dead fan in our bathroom. I was determined to NOT go get a handy-man for this, it seems relatively easy to pop it out and then replace it. The fan sits up in the ceiling of our little toilet area, directly above the toilet, so the first hurdle to get over is just how to reach the silly thing. After picturing for days how to get our various ladders in that TINY room, I told my friend and she suggested I use this tall step-stool she had. It JUST barely clears the toilet bowl, but it does straddle it, for really easy access to the ceiling. (Brilliant, Nichole!)

I consulted the resident electrician about the various parts of the whole procedure. I showed him the little motor I'd pulled down, and he pointed out it might not be the motor, but rather a transformer, and I'd need to pull out the whole unit. He understands the electrical motor part of it, I understand the larger bugs to be worked out.... Really important things, like ladder placement.

A word of warning: The reason our fan died was immediately evident when I removed the cover, which itself was pretty dusty. The inside motor was COVERED w/ fuzzy lint. I mean, it looked basically like a beige tennis ball up there (or something one might find in the back of one's fridge.... not that that has ever happened in THIS household. ;c) I wish I'd taken a photo of it.
The other fan (photo) in the larger part of the bathroom has only a quarter of the fuzz of the bad one, so it's clear the lovely soft toilet tissue we use creates too much 'dust' which gets sucked right up onto that motor..... so save yourself some repairing headaches and vacuum your fans before they die of suffocation or overheat or something. Popping off the cover to do so is a must, though jockeying a stool or ladder in there will be a pain.

So after a trip to Home Depot, it turns out we were both right - that little motor COULD be replaced. Or, as we did, you pop out the whole unit and replace it. I did the popping out and staging before I ran off to work, and Jim put the new one up in there. Tomorrow I'll be sure to vacuum the rest of our exhaust fans. But not tonight, I'm exhausted. And I've exhausted all my clever lines here, so I should wrap this up.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Recipient

This morning I was the recipient of a wonderful act of kindness.

I got home from my walk and remembered I needed to quickly get a signature from Jenny's dad, it being the first of the month and my paperwork was all due to be turned in to the agency in a few hours.
As I drove away from the Osborn's, I realized I was hungry and only a block from Micky D's, and suddenly I was craving one of their breakfast sandwiches. And OJ too, that sounded SO delicious.
Oh, but I didn't have any cash, I'd given it all to the lawn boy on Saturday. But I always have a bunch of change in the car, so I grabbed a handful of coins and stuck it in my wallet.

And even though I was still in my sweaty walking clothes, I went inside to order.

At the counter, however, I was counting out the coins and when the lady said 3.79, I realized my OJ upgrade put me over my coinage. I considered going back out to the car to get more money, but instead figured I could live without the extras. "I'll just take the sandwich, I don't have enough for the meal," I told her .

"Yes you do!" a man said, and slipped a dollar under my arm onto the counter. I looked over my shoulder and got a little glimpse of an unshaved older fellow, so I threw back a "Thank you!" as I counted out the rest of the money. I then looked around for him, but he was gone.

I got my meal and realized I was grinning as I headed out the door.

But then I couldn't help but wonder, "Just how needy DO I look here in my yoga pants and sweaty hair??"