Author: Rene

For years I have tried to attract hummingbirds to our humble abode. One year, I put bananas in the trees, so that the gnats, which would hover over the rotting scent, would inevitably gather round, and would attract the desired species. This “trick” cost me a bunch of bananas, was an icky mess to keep changing out, and was all for naught.

I tried different types of feeders. I planted their favorite flowers. My beautiful mother-in-law, whose name rhymes with “June,” has them sweeping around her by the dozens the minute she arrives at her cabin here in Colorado. Seriously? I can’t get one.

However, I have heard a little guy all summer on a few occasions. Today while I was admiring my beautiful stand of castilleja – commonly known as “Indian Paintbrush” – I thought about how many years it took me to get that going. Usually I forget it’s there and mow over it. What I means is, every year I mow over it. Today as I enjoyed the beauty, a little “seen but not heard” visitor arrived. A hummingbird! After all these years – Indian Paintbrush and a hummingbird all at once. Coincidence? What a beautiful day!

There is one on the horizon, of that I am sure! Let me begin by saying that I am the person who captures the snakes and rabbits in the window well, empties the mouse traps, successfully eradicates an entire vole population within a year, (requiring rat traps, smoke bombs, and water irrigation techniques) and will kill insects with a proper, “hrumph!” That is who I am.

With that in mind, picture a squirrel cage with a squirrel in it and no brave husband around to free the little guy from imprisonment. What would you do? Call your sister, of course!

I loaded the cage in the car, called my back-up team, and chatted cheerfully along the route to desolate plains. When I found the perfect “home,” I kept my sis on the phone in case the squirrel attacked me or bit me. This precaution comes from a former lesson I learned in college. Maybe we shall return to that story later?

It seemed easy enough to lift the end and release it. I had a three-foot pole for that purpose. I thought I had done the trick, with my sister listening to my squeals and “eeks” through my car phone, even though I had not seen the squirrel jump out. Back on the road I heard the cage rattling and I panicked!!!!! It was still in the car. What????? My sister calmly instructed me to stop and open the back of the car and re-release the little guy. I did as she said.

Silly me. The cage had merely tipped on its own and I was not in any danger. The next challenge – capturing the fourth squirrel who was just seen minutes upon my return from relocation exercises. I really thought I was done with this whole business.

Slogging ‘round the lazy river at the recreation center, I was entertained by the snippets of conversation overheard as I passed other water walkers.

“Those wine glasses are $125 each.” “She wasn’t at the garbage bin.” “You have to claim what you want.” “The walk-in shower wasn’t big enough.” “They just go to the same place every time.” “Well, I’m no angel.” “When I bought my Daddy’s cabin…”

You can certainly make a good story from any of the lines, causing me to wonder if people realize how much of what they say worms its way into other people’s ears? And how many stories are concocted by overheard conversation?

I would have bored them all with squirrel details, but we were walking in opposite directions. Which, now that I’ve managed to get the squirrels back into the diatribe, we still have not captured the wily third one, who has once again stolen the bait and escaped. The sad thing is, two of the creatures made their way into my sweet dreams last night. Maybe that’s why I was so tired today? Chasing squirrels. I have got to get a new hobby.

There is a third squirrel. Curses! This one is a little more clever – he has managed to steal the bait without triggering the trap. Well, who knows? There may be more than three now that we have begun this resettlement process. Maybe they’ve heard about the free peanuts we use as bait and we’re actually encouraging visitors from other neighborhoods? Whatever the case, we have this fulfilling new hobby to enjoy as squirrel wranglers. We even use binoculars to spy on the cage periodically, so as not to induce anxiety in a captured victim by leaving him in the cage too long. See? We do sort of care.

Stay tuned for more exciting Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom moments.

Watching squirrels, one can have the misguided thought that they are cute, chipper little creatures, always busy with boundless energy! Scampering joyfully across the lawn or fence, they never seem to sleep. And where do they reside?

Our first monumental encounter with these adorable rodents of the animal kingdom was years ago when we were on holiday. A friend who was listed as the emergency contact for our home alarm tracked us down in Hawaii, pre-cell phone era. He had to go into our house because the alarm kept going off and law enforcement only gives you two Mulligans. A squirrel in the attic had chewed the wiring. When we came home, we trapped the little guy with our politically-correct humane trap and relocated him.

The second encounter was when I tracked a little guy to a nest in one of our pine trees. I knocked it down and discovered our resident squirrel had been “squirreling away” the stuffing from my porch chair cushions, a votive candle from the outdoor lamp, and a plastic leaf. I hoped he had a lovely evening, however, that little guy met a politically incorrect fate.

And our “Third time’s a charm!” moment was this morning – when my fearless hunter husband successfully and humanely trapped and relocated not one, but two squirrels! I hope they find each other so that they can enjoy this new adventure, nowhere near my attic.

Frankly, I knew they had to go when I caught them using the hot tub cover for their playground.

Some days just start out funnier than others.

I met my daughter at the rec center for an early morning workout session. In my possession was the “Buff” card from the local high school. Astounding deals are possible with the card, and this one has a 2-for-1 entrance offer at our recreation center of choice. I threw the card in my bag after proudly presenting it to the attendee, who was not very impressed.

Upon leaving, I could not find that card! I had showered, so I figured I dumped it on the floor and someone else found it, though my daughter insisted she was sure I had it somewhere. Wasn’t in the pockets, wasn’t in the bag, wasn’t in the shoes. “Oh, well. Maybe someone else will feel fortunate with this screaming deal-of-a-card.”

I sat on the bench waiting for my daughter, when I noticed an odd sensation. Something was sticking to me inside my non-Victoria Secret underwear. A hearty laugh was had by all as I retrieved my highly valuable card.

However, this barely compares to the morning when my non-Victoria Secret underwear experienced static cling. It decided to make an entrance into the world from inside my husband’s golf shorts as he made his way to the first tee. I’m going to guess it just made his golf game a little better, even though I truly wished it had been the Vicky’s underwear making its debut. It was good to start the day with a hearty chuckle.

Have you ever had to “fix” a cake? Taking it out of the pan after baking somehow caused a monumental hole to appear in the layer, and the only resolution was half a can of frosting to fill it? If you make this mistake often enough, you figure out how to make the layers smooth and unnoticeable to the visually keen. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

With that in mind, I think we should be hiring cake decorators to fill the pot holes in the roads. Someone who’s used to fixing mistakes in cakes should be good at it!

Addendum to yesterday: Crackers

Thinking about letters, I remembered writing to my grandparents when I was young, sending philosophical missives that expanded the mind. Most often I wrote:

Dear Grandma and Grandpa, How are you? I am fine. I can’t wait to see you. Love, Rene

Now, sometimes I could vary the interest by changing the third sentence to something grand, such as, “It’s hot here.” “Today is Sunday.” “We got a dog.” Ah yes – the beginnings of a writer were borne out in that early correspondence. But the best part – I always got a letter back when I sent one. And since I’m still cleaning out that storage area, I am rereading some of them and thinking fondly of my grandparents today.

So here’s a fun game for a hot summer day. Pick a letter of the alphabet and only eat foods that begin with that letter. For instance, “C.”

Today I had cereal, cottage cheese, chips, cherries, cheesecake, cheese, candy, and of course, water. Always water for hydration! Most notably, none of these foods required usage of the oven or stove.

Okay, I really didn’t pick a letter, but I did realize I was eating foods beginning with the letter “C” about halfway through the day. Too much time on my hands? Perhaps. Tomorrow we’ll “C.”

Learning lessons the hard way – renting a room in Milan during the summer, with the advertisement reading “conditioned air.” That is a polite way to say, “We have a fan for you!”

Yesterday we were in Milan here at the ranch. It’s always advisable to test your air conditioning on the hottest day of the year. Do not have it serviced before you need it – just assume it will work! It is a humbling way of remembering when you didn’t have that luxury, when you would go to bed at night with your head on the sill of the window, praying for a puff of air, hoping the window wouldn’t slam on you and decapitate you. Or you would lay in front of a fan hogging the air, thus causing a ruckus within the family, creating more hot air.

Today we are back in the lap of luxury with air conditioning, and a newly purchased box fan – in case we feel like revisiting Milan.