Sunday, May 27, 2007


Boy goes into the kitchen and asks, "Can we put the silverware back in the drawer now? The mice are all gone, we haven't caught one in days."
At which point, he opens the drawer to find a dead mouse.

Keeping her silverware on the table,

Friday, May 25, 2007

A First

Yesterday I met up with someone I hadn't seen in many months, and they noticed I was pregnant. I'm at that stage where you feel, and look, more fat than pregnant. You don't feel particularly glowing either. She knew just by looking and it made me feel good.

I have the sneaking suspicion I am going to end up gaining more weight than I want on this one. With Boy I had about 10/15 lbs to lose. With Peanut I had 30 lbs to lose, which was a cinch, because it was all water. I ended up losing weight by the time she was done nursing (if you can call it that). I think this time I'm going to end up with some reserve. I'm bound and determined that this kid is going to nurse really well in the good old fashioned belly-up-to-the-bar way, so by the time he/she's done maybe the weight will be off. We can but hope.

Yesterday I read someone describe how easy their pregnancy was. They attributed it to their vegan diet. Ha. The truth is they were either young, or in shape, or both. I am not as young as I once was, and I'm not in shape. I keep meaning to get in shape here soon, because it does make a world of difference. It's just hard when you're so damn tired. Of course, if i were in shape I wouldn't be as tired, right? And around, and around...

Regarding our plagues- The mice seem to have sworn off pepperoni. Either that, or we're fresh out of mice. The baby's bites are healing up quite nicely. Apparently drool is an excellent salve- She is a walking slime monster right now. Poor thing either has allergies or a cold, so she's dripping from the nose, then she has three teeth coming in, which makes her drool like a basset hound. She wanted to kiss me the other day and it was very, very hard to let her do it. I end up nearly as slimy as her chin because she likes to use me for a kleenex.

Which is all to say, nothing much new here.

Oh! Except my best friend ever is, like, getting married this weekend and stuff. I'm not there because they're doing the eloping kind of thing. Hooplah will commence sometime in the future. Simon and I are still trying to think of something lovely to do, because we like to put things off till the last second (not!).

Going to bathe,

Thursday, May 24, 2007

No more wondering

"I could, of course, just throw them in the trash, but that doesn't seem right somehow. Point the first - I get squeamish wondering what's going to wander off the carcass when it cools...."

What wanders off the carcass when it cools is fleas. I'm expecting frogs from the ceiling and a sink full of blood any day now.

We've lived here with our furry dogs for a year without getting fleas. We thought it was one of the best things about living in NY- they don't have fleas. Then, about a week or so ago, the poor Peanut began getting bitten up when she was asleep. We couldn't tell if it was mosquitoes or fleas or (clutch the pearls) bedbugs. We just couldn't figure out why we weren't being eaten when we sleep right next to her. Still haven't figured that one out, but we did catch an actual flea, so the mystery of "Who's eating my baby" has been solved.

The trick is what to do about them without filling our house with poisonous fumes. We decided to put Frontline on the dog and stick her in the crib, then let the baby sleep with us for a night. That lasted half a night because DAMN that baby wiggles. Didn't she or us get any sleep till I put her back in the crib. Must have done the trick though, because she hasn't been eaten up since. Now we're trying to decide what to put down for the batch of fleas that will be hatching some time soon- round two. Normally I would do something boric acidy/diatomaceous earthy, but neither one turns out to be a good idea around a sleeping baby (toxicity and silicosis). We've read some interesting things about mint, of all things, and something called Precor. I'll let you know how it turns out.

On a completely different note, Boy had a friend come visit all the way from Michigan. Since it was on the way back from the airport, I took us all to a place called Howes Caverns. Sadly, it was just me and the boys, because everytime the tour guide said "And what do you think this stalagmite looks like" I had no one to whisper "Something from Good Vibes?" to. And really- they all looked like something from Good Vibes. There was a whole room whose ceiling was covered with formations that can only be described as cl1toral hoods. Seriously. I tried to take a picture because I knew you wouldn't believe me, but it's remarkably difficult to take a picture in a dark cave. Suffice it to say, the whole damn cave was a festival of the phallic and yonic rocks.

The boys spent their time glued to the tour guide like, ummm, a sticky thing to something porous (I'll think up an analogy later- pregnancy is really hard on the brain). Every time the group moved they'd run and push their way through if necessary just so they could be next to her again. Every time she asked if anyone had any questions, they'd think one up. Every time she showed off a formation they'd stand fascinated in awe, oblivious to the fact there were twenty other people waiting for their turn to stand fascinated in awe at nature' propensity to spend ten thousand years making a giant penis. I'd have to move up and shoo them on. I think they were in love.

All right. Time to get on with things.
Ever so glad "Yonic" is a real word,

Sunday, May 20, 2007


For the first time in my life I have mice. I mean, I don't have mice running up my pants or peeking out my cleavage- no, I mean to say, there are mice in my house that I don't keep in a cage. A week ago Simon found a chewed up ketchup pack in the back of the silverware drawer. After much investigating, we decided we must have a mouse.



I bleached and washed and hoped it was an old event that we just hadn't noticed. The next day- gasp- the damn mouses had been WALKING AND SHITTING ON MY COUNTER!

Oh the outrage. I can't communicate the outrage I felt over someone shitting on my counter.


I hied me down to the Family Dollar and bought me some snappy snappy mouse traps. Boy was aghast that I wouldn't drive down to the Walmart and buy a live trap. I'm trying to avoid the devil's store, so I refused to budge. I did, however, feel slightly guilty that night as I set out the snappy traps with peanut butter bait. The poor, cutesy meese.

That night I got up to pee and realized that a mouse could be snared at that very moment. I felt strangely like a kid at Xmas. The genuine suspense- was there a mouse waiting for me?


Nor the next night either.

There were, however, more turds. Upon closer inspection it was discovered the bastards had licked the peanut butter off. I no longer felt the guilt- this meant war.


I tried cheese. Jammed it on there hard and went to bed. That night I got up to pee and- lo and behold! Xmas! I heard a mouse clacking around on the floor wearing a trap for a scarf. I woke Simon up, and we watched it breathe for a while. Simon came up with a plan- he'd take it out, hang his arm over the edge of the porch and shake the trap briskly, thereby breaking the poor mousey neck. In actual practice, what happened is that the mouse flew out of the trap and sailed into the night.


I left the remaining traps out, thinking it was going to come home any minute now to finish the cheese. But the next morning - HORRORS! - there was an entirely different mouse in a trap!

I felt so dirty. I didn't have a mouse- I had mice. Gave me the shudders. Mousey feet all over my kitchen and I hadn't even known.


Simon decided the thing to do was tie pepperoni onto the traps with string so the mices really had to work at it to get the stuff off. At which point we caught the third mouse. THE THIRD MOUSE! THE SECOND TO DIE IN THE SILVERWARE DRAWER! It was like the silverware drawer was some kind of mousey night club.


Another night passes. The Santa of Traps left no gifts, so I began to relax. Maybe we'd caught them all. After all, how could so many mice be living here without us noticing? They leave a trail of turds like cars leave exhaust. If we had so many mice, wouldn't we be swimming in turds?

Apparently not, because last night we caught number four. And you'll never guess which trap he went for.


The top drawer can be our mouse drawer, and the silverware will remain on our table, me thinks. It's handy.

On a more gruesome note, we're beginning to have quite the pile of dead mice beneath our porch. With the first and second mice we thought the ants would clean up the carcass before it was a big deal, but if we're going to catch mice every other day it's going to get embarrassing. I suggesting throwing the dead mice harder so they land in the big evergreen in the neighbor's yard. Like a macabre Xmas Tree. Alternatively, I could toss them on the other neighbor's roof for their cats.

I could, of course, just throw them in the trash, but that doesn't seem right somehow. Point the first - I get squeamish wondering what's going to wander off the carcass when it cools. Point the second - It doesn't seem right to just throw a critter away. True, the critter needs to die, but that doesn't mean it deserves the indignity of being trashed. Not that I'm going to bury it or anything. It just seems more right to leave it out for the other critters to eat.

wondering how hard one has to chuck a mouse to get it to land on the roof,