Down The Rabbit Hole

As I was sweeping cabins earlier today,  I got to thinking, "Good-night, M, if you don't post something on that silly blog of yours soon, they'll all suspect you've gone off the deep end".  They'll wonder if you've finally become a forest dwelling, ax-swinging nut with a propensity for off-roading in inappropriate vehicles and having long [audible] conversations with herself.

Phew.  Glad I've avoided that.

My brainchild occurred only a an hour or so after Helen, a new (and awesome) year-long staffer, pulled a mouse out of the washing machine.

And the thought came just a little while before my husband and two of our neighbors/co-workers/fellow woodsman went outside to try and shoot a skunk that is living in our woodpile.

A woodpile located directly below our front deck,

which also happens to sit right outside my office window.

Fine, the woodpile basically is my office window.

While the chase ensued, I tackled my own challenge: eating half of a watermelon.  This comes to no one's surprise.

Why is no one surprised?  Because eating entire melons and chasing woodland creatures is beginning to feel normal.  The strange-but-true reality of life here has slowly pulled a foggy haze over my perceptions of what to should expect out of a day.

For example, I've recently managed to:

• overflow the pot in the Bunn coffee maker, multiple - ok, dozens - of times.  
• shake someone's hand while holding a pirate's hook in my sleeve (we'd never met before)
• spray water all over the dish pit, ceiling included.  

         [Since we're on the subject, here's a brief life lesson:

    In the battle of human dishwasher vs. ladle, 

there are no winners - only losers.

It looks so harmless.

 

    I'd compare it to running an ultra-marathon naked, 

in Manitoba, 

in February

 or 

to drinking questionable milk]

I've also managed to...

• stay upright in a kayak through most of the Kennebec Gorge (read: most)
• drive a four-wheeler 
• pet a black bear.  It actually felt quite like my cat, only larger and less alive.
• plunge the single-most-foul toilet I've ever encountered.  If I close my eyes, I can still see it.
• shoot archery with a gaggle of sweet Dominican grandmothers.
• start wearing hats.  Thank you to my friend Cathy, state food service laws, and that one retreat guest who left me a fedora.  Her fedora.  On purpose.  I look too much like a little boy to pull it off [without looking like a little boy].
• stop sleeping in.  This seems simultaneously gluttonous and tragic, and yet I will probably attempt to return it to my skill set pronto.
• take one day off in a month.  Though it may sound like I'm flaunting some big accomplishment here, what I'm really saying is that this kind of behavior is particularly unadvisable and likely a result of your own bad planning.  Plan better next time. 
• live in a state of heightened anxiety and panic (see above).
• remain in wedded bliss weddedness.  Considering the previous truth, this is a miracle.  I'd have banished me.  

I keep thinking that I should maintain a list of the unique happenings that that take place here in the woods, and perhaps I really ought to, but as time goes on, the instances themselves become less and less unique and, consequently, more and more everyday.

In conclusion, I suppose I will start on that list...

providing something really weird happens.

Is That The Best You've Got?

Thank you for obliging a science lesson yesterday.  Here’s what my sister thought of the entry:

It's certainly one of the most disturbing ones I've seen.  Look up donkey dung sea cucumber.  You could have gone with the one that looks like a big turd.  Fun fact, speaking of epidermal tissue, did you know sea cucumbers will eviscerate when threatened.  They'll expel their whole digestive track then regrow it in hopes they can amble away while the predator snacks.  And you mock them....

There's my classy lady.  Bio. lab meets 3rd grade recess.

-----

As promised, here’s an entry on small disasters.  These happen often enough that I’ll probably have another list in a week for you.  Here’s a toast to social pain and humiliation – enjoy!

The Machine

I have a programmable Cuisinart coffeemaker with a nice stainless steel carafe, which we bought about a year and a half ago, after the ugly demise of an earlier Black & Decker model.  So, our Cuisinart has been running like a champ, brewing coffee like a Petri dish brews e.coli – often and in large quantities.  It’s been a steadfast friend, and on Santa's "nice" list, until just recently.   In our kitchenless apartment, C and I have a limited daily menu, but this coffeemaker has always been faithful to provide our morning cup of joe.  About two and a half weeks ago, on a morning that somehow was already proving frustrating (you know those days),  I come into the kitchen/closet/table area to see the coffeemaker hissing with gritty brown toilet water gushing all over the place.  After a primordial scream, I run to the bathroom and get a towel to try to sop up as much of the mess as I can.  

(You might wonder why I wrote in a previous entry that we cook in the bathroom.  

You’re about to find out why.)

Unfortunately, in order to fit all of our kitchen apparatus into the built-in shelving in the kitchen/closet/table area, I had to cram the coffeemaker into an 8-inch space between the minifridge and the wall.  It was the only spot with an outlet.  And it was the only spot.  So now I’m trying to clean up a wet mess in a tiny space against a wall only to see my every swipe of the towel lead to more coffee pouring down on the floor.  So I unplug it, grab the entire machine and waddle to the bathroom, trying to preserve my last shred of dignity as this hot, wet liquid trickles down my legs.  As this demon machine is leaking coffee like the Exxon-Valdez, poor C is trying to simultaneously help and stay out of the way of his moderately furious partner.   And this is only the first spill.

Yup, that’s right. At this point, I’ve figured out that perhaps it’s best to keep this monster close to a sink, just in case.  Now, wait five minutes and replay the last scene, this time in the bathroom.  My mind was potato soup 20 minutes into the day.

Call the Cops

I’m new here, so I try to make a good impression when I am out in town.  I was at the grocery store awhile back, getting a few things to try to make my next crock-pot fiasco a prettier mess, when I look to the end of the checkout line and see a stack of the local free paper.  Now, this might sound completely crazy to you, but I got really excited.  Back home, we had these wonderful free local papers that most of the small towns produced, and I loved them.  So, you can understand my excitement when I realized that there was enough going on in the area to warrant a paper like that here.  I paid for my groceries, grabbed my bags, and picked up a paper as I walked out. 

Fast-forward three hours.  I’ve just gotten to the point where I’m sitting down and reading through my new acquisition.  It’s great!  I learn about things going on at the local school, some community events, and town politics.  I fold the paper back up and am getting ready to move on to the next thing, when all of a sudden my eyes glance up to the top right-hand edge and catch the bold print “75 cents” label at the corner.  ACK.  ACK.  ACK.   It wasn’t a free paper - I stole it!!  I’ve been here two weeks and I’m already the local thief.  They might still have stocks here.  Or gallows.

After a mild personal crisis (after all, I’ve never shoplifted before, so I’m mentally coming to terms with my new life of crime), I try to relax.  I plan a drive to the store later to confess and pay the price for my stolen merchandise.  Of course, hours later when I actually do this, no one remembers me taking the paper.  They accept my money, but I get the feeling that they all think I’m a total whacko.  Hey, at least I feel better.

I’m not going to take up more time now with the other stories, but just so you know I’m not lying when I say that these things happen often, here’s a small selection of other accidental misdeeds you've accomplished if you're me.

• Stolen your boss' coffee mug.  Directly after she purchased it. 
• Driven to the correct town in the wrong state (this has happened twice).
• Brought a customer's bag out to her car.  Watched her drive away only to realize that she hadn't paid for it.  And you helped her.
• Almost sunk a forty thousand dollar speedboat.  Full of kids.

Stay out of trouble.  If you can’t, be sure and tell me about it.