Infestation!!!! (Parts One and Two)

So, ever since our little experience with a temporary Pit Bull and her family of fleas, I have persistently had the heebie jeebies and creepy skin crawlies.  Even after spraying, powdering, vacuuming, doing the "walk around with white socks and you'll know" test, and carpet cleaning, weeks later, I still imagine that every black speck and tiny itchy skin feeling are sure signs of residential flea infestation.

I had been watching Mario (my cat) like a hawk, trying to determine if he looked infested.  After seeing him "scratch" once, I decided to buy a flea collar, just to be sure.  It took me probably twenty minutes of confused browsing before I actually purchased the collar; I'm not sure why they even have "shampoo" for a cat, because there is no way in hell I would be able to immerse him in water when he runs like the wind if he sees me merely coming towards him after watering the plants.

Anyway, I bought the collar (because I couldn't find drops that weren't $50.....come on, $50???? Not to mention, if I even got them on him in some slightly successful fashion, he'd probably run away and try to lick them off, and then, of course, die), and actually got it on him with hardly any fuss.  Mario has never worn a collar or any form of decoration, so I was rather surprised that he submitted to this.

Yes, he submitted.  But the glowering looks he gave me afterward had me a little concerned.

He adjusted to the whole thing, I have no idea if it worked, and have become OCD about watching him to make sure he's not trying to lick it, or trying to take it off and slip it into my food while I'm not paying attention.

Fast forward an evening or two later:  Infestation, Part Deux.

My mother recently gave me one of those sonic mouse-repelling devices, which allegedly deter mice from your home due to some ear bleeding sound which only mice (and other rodents) can hear.  Every year when it starts to get chilly, my home becomes the new home for local mouse or mice in the neighborhood.  I never really know whether it's more than one, because, not to be mouse-ist here, but the ones I've come into contact with really all kind of look the same.  Basic grey/light brown, perky, cute.

Now, I have previously gone the horrible poison-pellets-in-a-decorative-box route, but hoped perhaps this might work, instead (though I considered that the mouse would just avoid the kitchen and come into my bedroom).  After testing it out with my guinea pig in the next room (because, to be honest, before I looked it up, I wasn't sure if it was a "rodent." Sorry, Penelope.), and assuring that she wasn't running around her cage in a deranged fashion (any more than usual), I kept the device plugged in for the night.

As I lay in bed (facing the door, of course), I had a clear view of the stove, which apparently is the Express Mouse Elevator to the counter tops.  Within ten minutes of lights out, Mr. Mouse appears on the stove.  The stove is less than three feet from the red-light-blinking sonic death machine.  Apparently, this mouse is either hard of hearing, has proactively stuffed cotton in its ears, or, the sonic death machine is a load of crap.  The mouse actually ran past the outlet to check out the sink area.  I think he even danced a jig and gave me the finger afterward.

Needless to say, I was flabbergasted, and resigned myself to the fact that I would have to pursue other means of mouse repelling.

Now, before I get into the rest of this part of the story, I will tell you a few things.

First, the idea of poisoning the mouse/mice is a horrific thing to me.  I remember my first experience with the little green nuggets of death, and the fact that I had found little piles of pellets on the steps, far away from the original decorative box.  When I mentioned this to my brother in law, he said, "it's probably because the mouse was taking them to its' family."

Welllll, thanks, Dave.  Enter visions of Mom Mouse exictedly telling her 432 kids that she found this great portable food source, and would be bringing loads of it to them and stocking up, so they could survive the harsh winter.  432 Kiddie Mice, including weak, crippled, Tiny Tim Mouse, are tearfully overjoyed that they have such a great Mom Mouse.

Yeah.

I don't like the poison situation, but the sound of springing traps and mouse neck-breaking in the middle of the night do not entice me, either. I also know that the whole "catch and release" thing is just further invitation for them to group up with their friends once thrown back into the wild, and tell them about the cool new home they found.  (and yes, I've actually caught and released, which is actually some good aerobic exercise)

So, back to the store I went........

(Stay tuned for Part Three, and the Exciting Conclusion of "Infestation!!!!!" )

The Dilemma of Buying Book 5

So, I told you some posts ago that I was re-reading The Game of Thrones saga, and a few weeks ago, I "finished" the series.  You also may remember my slight anger over the fact that Book 4 was NOT the final book, and further, that I mentioned skimming through quite a bit of reading, particularly in the last two books.

I have to say, I did the same exact thing, this time, and was still annoyed.

I decided to do a little research to see what lies ahead in the apparently never-really-a-final-book saga, with some slight expectation that I might splurge to buy the fifth (and sixth, I guess) book if I knew something good might come of it.

Well, it's a few weeks later, and I still haven't bought the next book.

"Why not?" you ask?

I read the reviews.

It seems that all of the things which annoyed me about the last two books not only annoyed many of the other reviewers, but apparently, there is more of that to come in the fifth book.  Now, I admit that I read book reviews with a very wary eye.  Even "professional" book reviews can have me scowling.  Non-professional reviews, however, can be pretty interesting.

While I immediately discount anyone who uses bad spelling, grammar, and an overabundance of exclamation points and stars, I alternatively give quite a bit of reading time to the reviewers who sound a lot like myself.  I give them more credit, to be truthful.  I was actually pleased to see so many others who had complained about the same exact things I had complained of; it made me feel a little validated.

I don't know what kind of reader most folks are.  There is a cute little conversation in the movie "When Harry Met Sally" regarding the type of people who read the ending of a book before they've read anything else.  I used to be the type that kind of abhorred that idea, but was certainly guilty of skipping ahead in certain books because  I couldn't stand the suspense of wondering whether a certain character was guilty/dead/etc.

I have strangely become one of those who is not bothered by knowing the ending of a book (or movie, for that matter).  Most times I actually savor the thrill of the unknown, and perhaps that's a sign that the author is really doing a good job of keeping me occupied with every delicious detail of the current page.  I do not generally read ahead to the end of my books, but if I've read a spoiler, it will not likely prevent me from reading the book.  Remember, I'm the one who reads and re-reads her books multiple times.  I typically always know the ending in those.

As I was reading the reviews, I was hoping to find some spoilers.  I needed some spoilers, so I could determine whether I was going to invest my money and my time into the rest of the never ending saga.  Well, I got spoilers, and they sucked.  Most of them pretty much told me that I was in for another 800-900 pages of  skimming and being annoyed.  And, at the end of it, having to wait for yet another book to be published.

Now, I'm sure there are many of you who have nothing but admiration for the first four books, and I'm sure that if Mr. Martin ever read some of my musings, he would have a lot of not-nice things to say on the matter. However, I am not, as of yet, being lauded as a best-selling author with an HBO Original Series under my belt.

I can tell you something, though, about this series of books, and the fact that they may, indeed, be the true Never-Ending Story.... I will likely buy the fifth book, as will many others.  Even others who were ticked about the last two books of the first four.  I won't buy it with a sense of anticipation and excitement.  I'll buy it with a kind of resignation and dragging of mental feet, with the excuse that "I might as well see what happens.... I guess."

And I'm thinking that THAT is the selling point for the rest of these 426 books yet to be published.  People are going to buy them because they're willing to drudge through countless pages to find out if the character they loved in book one had a happy ending or is killed senselessly in a small insignificant chapter.

I'm guessing that this is not usually the game plan for publishers or agents; I'm guessing that sales figures are reflected somewhere down the line, and that they don't say to their writers, "just write another 800 pages of whatever... keep stringing people along, they'll buy, they'll buy!!"

I wonder, though.  Because, of course, I'll be buying.  But I'm definitely waiting until I can get it for the cheapest price possible.  Preferably for free, or in a library.  Sorry, George, but none of your hardcovers will ever be gracing my bookshelf.

I'd Like to be Beyonce When I Grow Up

So, as I mentioned in my last post, yes, I've been a little pensive these last, ohhhh, nine months or so.  It has not been a good year, overall, for me, and, being apparently professionally unemployed (perhaps the only job for which I seem qualified?), I have had plenty of time and opportunity to think, think, think, and more think.  Which is likely the reason that I am up at 3:11 a.m. drinking a coffee and writing a blog post, rather than slumbering peacefully like most human beings.

Every once in a while I get sucked in to the world of YouTube, where one "innocent" video about potato farmers in New Mexico inexplicably yet possibly in a 7-degrees-of-separation-like fashion has me drooling at the screen four hours later watching a Beyonce music video.
Dual purpose drooling, mind.
Drooling because my brain is warped and I have turned into a zombie from sitting mindlessly at the computer, and drooling because if I were a dude, or a gal who fancied women, Beyonce would be IT for me.

I was not an early fan of hers, nor the whole Destiny's Child thing.  I was pretty annoyed by them, to be honest, and was pretty gleeful about the whole Gemini's Twin parody on Saturday Night Live.  I had a little twitch, however, when I saw her sing on some MTV (?) Fashion Rocks special.  You know, the one where she sings "Deja Vu" in her Josephine Bakeresque outfit.

I saw that and thought, "$hit, I want a banana skirt."
Then, "I want to look like that in a banana skirt."
Then, "I want a rhinestone bra too."
"And a fan to blow my hair around because it does get pretty hot when it's on my face."
And naturally, "I'm never going to eat again and I'm going to work out every day so I can look like that in my banana skirt.  I'm gonna wear my banana skirt every day."

So that was the beginning of my need to be Beyonce.

Fast forward to years later, watching videos of her surprising school kids and then performing with them in high heels as part of the whole "Let's Move" anti-obesity campaign, and that got me further hooked.

"$hit, I want a pair of tight white jeans."
Then, "I want to look like that in a pair of tight white jeans, even though it's totally not my style, but if I looked like that, I would wear white jeans, dammit."
And naturally, "I want to wear tight white jeans and a tank top and high heels and do a workout in a gym and not look like a total moronic white girl.  Every day.  In fact, I don't want to be a white girl.  Also, I'm never eating again."

I just found out, while searching for the banana skirt video, that she was voted "Most Beautiful Woman in the World" by People Magazine this year, so I guess I'm a little late to the show on this one.  However, just because apparently the entire universe agrees that Beyonce is IT, doesn't mean I can't wax poetic about her for one tiny post.

I know this may come as a total shock, but, despite all of those inspirational videos, my wardrobe still sadly lacks a banana skirt and white jeans.  Tomorrow, though, for sure, I will start never eating again, and doing tougher workouts.  Yes.

Death Means Nothing

Goodness, it's been ages since I have felt like writing.  Sometimes I get a little too pensive about things, and it's nothing very amusing to blog about, so, be thankful, I've spared you some agony.

But, since I don't want you to think me completely heartless and only full of sarcasm, I'll write this one time about some ponderings that I've had during my not even close to daily walks in the neighborhood.

If you have ever watched any of those movies or television series dealing with the end o' the world and/or the zombie apocalypse, you may notice that there are certain issues that are never really addressed.  Yes, there are big issues like our animalistic instincts or doubts about killing our spouses when they've gone zombie on us, but there are other, "smaller" things that are never mentioned, that kind of annoy me.

Stephen King seems to be able to touch on some of these things in his novels; he downplays some of  the enormity of the big issue and makes things viewable at the personal level.  It may be in just a sentence here or there, but they count.  "Janie was chopped in half when she went to water her garden."  "Bob died from a paper cut that became infected."  "Yazu died after a stomach bug left him dehydrated after the water ran out."  "Everything was silent because all of the birds and animals were dead."  No, those aren't actual quotes, but you get the idea.  Little, private things that happen, as a result of the Big Thing in progress.

When I'm on one of my pensive walks, I am always, and I mean, always, astounded by the beauty of our world, and how strange it would be if it ceased to exist.  The wind as it blows through the branches of the trees.  The squirrels dodging traffic in their frantic rush to do whatever it is they're always rushing to do.  The peacefulness and quiet beauty of a cemetery, which will be lost if the zombie thing goes down.

Yes, there will be other things on our minds when the apocalypse rolls around, like, figuring out how not to starve and whether it's okay to eat your neighbor's dog, but what about the other things?  Like, being able to have a good cup of coffee?  Or not worrying that once your cigarettes are all gone, they're really gone?  Or not being able to flush the toilet?  And not being able to take a leisurely walk because your cousin down the street wants to eat your brains?

Since I have plans to survive the zombie apocalypse, I know that once I'm past the whole initial excitement of robbing stores for food and hiding in a cave to avoid my undead friends and Family, I'm going to be pretty pissed about the coffee thing.  And I know that I will notice that the birds are not singing, the squirrels aren't dodging, and the breeze is not blowing.  I'm pretty sure that if I had the time to write in my cave, it would be all about the little things that I miss.   Including my walks in the Jewish cemetery down the street.

There is a gravestone there with the quote "Death Means Nothing.  Whatever we were to each other, we are still."  How pretty is that?  A little off topic, but too bad.

So, yes, my friends, here's my advice for the few pre-apocalypse months we have remaining:  Appreciate everything you see.  Know that you are fortunate to be in a world where the wind still blows and the neighbor's dog is just a dog.  Appreciate the crickets at night and the fact that your toilet flushes and even the fact that you think there may be a mouse family living in your home somewhere.

And worry not.  I will be around to write about these things, in case you forget.  Check out my cave when you get the chance.  I'll likely have a store of the world's remaining coffee, and a nice percolator coffee pot.  I'm planning ahead.