It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

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.

Ah, but for the want of wi-if! (Issues!) Thank you for waiting for the dramatic conclusion to the “Godmother Gazette” saga. Although Chrysogonus had more to say, fashion was even highlighted, and there was an entire “Catholic Crafter” section of the Gazette, the most helpful part was probably the recipes we researched ever-so thoroughly to replicate in our modern world. “Holy Help” was popular with the readership, and instructions quite easy to follow. Perhaps you can experiment on your own and put a personal touch on your creations!

HOLY HELP!

Catholic Humor Part 2: In our “Godmother Gazette” days, the creativity was running rampant. We even had an advertising department. (You see what happens when you clean out the storage closet? You find cool stuff like this, and then you are happy you didn’t toss it. However, the downside is that you think you have to keep things because you might want to look at them again, and then you are in the position of having to clean out the storage closet.)

Enjoy our twisted sense of adventure with the following ads:

Always acceptable and fun to enjoy your religion in a lighter way! I’m perusing some writing my witty daughter and I created a few years back and I’m compelled to share it with anyone who knows anything about the Bible.

“The Godmother Gazette” was written for my sister, to give her a few laughs. One of the best parts was a column Daughter and I dreamed up called, “Ask Chrysogonus.” (He’s a saint and martyr, btw, and has a cool name). I give you outtake number one.

Dear Chrys, I need parenting advice. My boys are getting on my nerves – it seems like they’re always trying to kill each other! In desperation, Eve

Dear Eve, Boys will be boys. Things were much simpler in Eden, weren’t they? You really don’t have anyone to blame but yourself – buck up. Your brother in Christ, Chrys

Once again…you have to know a bit about your Bible. I’ve got a few more for you, about as in-depth as this! Stay tuned.

I was subjecting myself to torture today, aka ‘receiving a pedicure,’ (I’m still having a bit of Cleopatra envy,) when I took the time to peruse one of my journals. It contains many, many lists. I must have been feeling “listless” and thought I could remedy that situation by making my compilations. Nevertheless, one of the lists caught my eye; “Things for which I am grateful.”

The mute button made it on the list. Why? So that I don’t have to listen to another “Natural Grocers” commercial! I even put that as the reason! As a matter of fact, I won’t go there because I cannot tolerate the commercials! I wouldn’t care if Cleopatra shopped there, I won’t go! (Okay, I think if she did actually shop there I would probably case the joint looking for her and invite her to coffee. But I wouldn’t cross the threshold of the store, I’d just hand her a shopping cart and make small talk outside. “Nice jewels! Great make-up, Girlfriend! Sorry about that whole Augustus thing with your family.”)

I do have a problem letting go of a good story.