Bat At It. . . . Again

Just when you think it's safe to rest your weary  head after a week away from home you are reminded of why you shouldn't. Although we've been home a week since our vacation our "reminder" showed up unannounced.  (That's what happens when you make mention of it on your way home ~ you jinx yourself.)

Last night The Hubs and I had to run to Sam's Club to pick up a couple things.  The Boy left while we were gone (leaving TV on and front door open ~ so glad we have honest neighbors).  When we got home we went about our business ~ which actually consisted of watching "The Shooter".  Love that movie.  After the movie, The Hubs went up for his shower, came back down and we locked up the house, having no idea what time the Boy would be home. We trust our neighbors, but not the "Night crawlers".  We literally had just laid down when we heard The Boy pull up.  We heard him rustling around and I think Hubs and I both hit that doze state just before sleep.  Next thing I know it sounds as if an all out brawl broke out downstairs!  I heard fussing and running of feet.  The Hubs ~ who never hears anything (or so he says) was even a bit worried. He called down asking what was wrong.  No answer.  What on earth was going on down there?!  Hubs gets up (another rare thing) and goes into the hall way and calls down again.  I can hear The Boy, but can't make out the words.  Then I hear Hubs say it:  B. A. T.

So it begins.  The Hunt. I was in a quandary as to whether or not I should leave the safety of my room.  I could stay in there and lock everyone out and let them deal with the Creature, or I could suck it up and go help. Who am I kidding?  I'm as worthless as a plugged nickel when it comes to Bat Hunting.  So I ventured downstairs ducking and dodging thin air.  You know, just in case. This isn't my first rodeo, but it evokes the same anxiety every, single time.   I cautiously assess the situation, intending to interrogate The Boy (he may have been hallucinating). I find The Boy on the kitchen floor, on his stomach,  looking at his phone. He seems all chilled out.  However, he has positioned himself between the counter and the stove, feet pointing to the wall and facing the living room where he had encountered the Creature.  What was he thinking?  Where was he going to run if the Creature had decided to enter the kitchen? He had pinned himself into a corner.  Seems The Boy, The Ben, The Beast had been squashed by The BAT.  I questioned as to whether he really saw it or not giving the fact he wasn't being very co-operative.  The Hubs backed his sighting ~ he saw it when he came downstairs.

The rundown:   Ben:  *I came home, got some chocolate milk, kicked back on the sofa with the intentions of watching some TV.  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye over by the fireplace.  Then I saw it, circling the living room.*  It was more than he could handle.

The Hubs, in the meantime, is frantically searching (not for the Creature) for the tennis rackets.  They can't be found anywhere.  So as The Boy and I are scanning the downstairs, Hubs goes in the basement and retrieves two crab nets.  They try to hand one off to me.  Nope, not happening.  We searched and peeked and scanned every area we could downstairs. We were all CSI with our flashlights.  Hubs even went outside with his trusty, high lumen flash light to check the windows ~ (Um, Hubs, I think they call that creeping.  I'm not bailing you out if the Sherriff rides by.) you know, just in case the Creature was trying to leave.  Nothing.  I think he needed some fresh air and a moment to think. 

That leaves us one thing to do.  Go to bed.  I'm a mess.  I can't sleep with my head under the covers. Some how I end up with a crab net on my way up.  What am I suppose to do with this?  Sleep with it?  Because if I put it anywhere in the room that means I will have to get up and retrieve it while The Creature is flying around.  I don't know.  That doesn't sound like a good idea to me. I feel I can't breathe.

The Boy did clean up the chocolate milk that catapulted out of his cup and onto the love seat, pillow and floor.  That would have been the brawling noise and sounds of fusing we heard earlier. (Actually, it was him running and cussing the bat.)  One cannot think of being careful or quiet when eluding flying creatures!

We decide to close all doors upstairs in case The Creature decides to take flight. But. . . . what if it is already up there and we close him in with us???? (hence the crab net, I suppose)  So, we opt to turn on the AC.  Don't know how that's going to help, but if it makes The Menfolk feel better, sure, why not.  We, meaning The Hubs, gets the windows down upstairs and proceeds back down to the scary place.  I hear him say in a quiet voice:  "I found him."  Is he quiet because it's flying, or is it perched somewhere obvious, like on the back of the couch?  Nope.  He had closed him up in the window.  The same window I had checked earlier. (I'm sweating).  He didn't mean to.  It had worked up between the top and bottom trying to get out and got caught when he lowered the window. 

I told The Boy The Creature had been contained.  The Hubs said he was rather small.  The Boy begged to differ.  He said it was the biggest bat he had seen, holding his hands about 14 inches apart. All I can envision are the bats from Jumanjii. 

Yep, this looks about right.

Needless to say, I DID NOT SLEEP WELL.  Suppose it had a friend.

What is it anyway with bats and our house?  I'm not Motel 8.  I don't "leave the light on".  But an even bigger question:  How.  Do.  They.  Get.  In????

Side note:  Do you know bats are protected?  You CANNOT kill them. At least around this area. True story.

Not Much Time

The Little Itty Bitty Girl is obsessed with the fact that I am old 62.  She reminds me often that I'm almost 100.  Often.  Yesterday was no different, but she threw a stick in my spokes  before reminding of that fact ~ again.

She was home with me "recovering" from a little stomach bug.  Nothing good was on TV and I only let her play her Kindle for so long.  Out of boredom she did her spelling assignment on the computer using Spelling City.  I figured it would keep her up to par and she wouldn't have a lot of make-up work to do.  After that we perused  Netflix for a movie.  She loves the Tinker Bell movies and settled on "Tinker and the Neverbeast".  Apparently this "beast" was testy, then friendly, then not so nice.  The woodland fairy that befriended him in the beginning fell victim to his fury.  I'm not sure she really "died" or what.  I just know it was sad and she wasn't moving.  And then something happened (I missed that part) and she was moving again. 

This prompted Itty Bitty to ask me if dying was like sleeping.  I said,  a very deep sleep, I guess you could say.  She said "Yea, that's what I was thinking.".  I told her though, that the soul leaves the body.  She said she knew that.  (alrighty then).  Then came the kicker. The stick in the spokes that brought me to a halt.  She nonchalantly told me: "You don't have much time."  What? What do you mean?  (I knew where this was going).   "You're old." she says.  "You don't have much time left. You're almost 100."

Knock me over with a feather.  I've had the "almost 100" conversation with her before, but not the "not much time" one.  That was unexpected to say the least. Un-nerving.

That's it!  No more deep conversations with this girl!   Not any time soon, anyway.

Wrong Number

We all get them ~ someone calling ~ or in this case texting ~ the wrong number.
If I am the culprit, I profusely apologize and go on. Sometimes it takes the culprit on the other end to actually realize he/she's dialed the same wrong number twice before they move.  And ~ they usually apologize.

But then, then we have that one, not up to par with 'wrong phone number 'phone etiquette, culprit. The one that takes advantage of the situation.

Case in point:  Yesterday a "302" number texted me.  I responded simply because I have family in the  "302" vicinity and thought it may be one of them.  Here's how it went down:

Wrong number:  "What's up with my survey??? Th millsboro dodge"
Wrong number:  "TJ*"
Wrong number:  "Hook me up"

All three texts before I could respond.

Me:  "what???"

Wrong Number:  "My survey I asked u to fill out"

Me: " i think you have the wrong number :/"

Wrong number:  "I'm sorry.  This is Harold right? You still in Markey for a new truck?"

Um, What part of 'wrong number' confuses you?  AND,  if you have the wrong number, why on God's green earth would you apologize and then ask if I'm "Harold right?"   Why?

Me:  "no - this is NOT Harold - you have the wrong number!"

Wow!  We really do not understand those two words 'wrong number', now do we? Dazed and confused.

Wrong number:  "O ok sorry"
Wrong number:  "Well are you in the marke for a new or used vehicle? I have the deals?"

Oh. My. Word!  Are you kidding me???

Me:  "N.  O."

End of convo.  I must give the dude credit.  He had some amount of confidence even after eventually realizing he had the wrong person to pursue a sale.  Can't give him any credit though for his punctuation or spelling.  Don't think I would score  much of a deal from this guy, especially since he seems to questioning them himself.

'til next time,
This is "Harold" signing off.

PS - Spell check lit up like a Christmas tree!

A "Sticky" Situation

My Mama always told me to be careful what you wish for.

I got a call last night from a distraught young lady.  She had been on her hubby's case for some time to put his dirty laundry in the hamper with the rest of the family's or it wouldn't get washed.  And IF it didn't get washed, then by George, he would have to take care of that task himself.  

Like I said ~ be careful what you wish for

Hubs must have needed some clothes and Wife had held to her "guns".  So Hubs decided to tackle his laundry himself.  God bless him.

Wife went to get something out of the dryer ~ to which Hubs had added his wet laundry after washing without removing the dry clothes already nestled in there ~ and . . . she pulled out sticky clothes.  Kind of like "bubble gum sticky", but not quite.

Be careful what you wish for

I'm thinking when Hubs brought his dirties down, he threw them in the laundry room floor to get the washer ready.  Then he just tossed them in the dryer (on top the already fluffy dry things that were in there) and let 'er go!  Apparently a sticky mouse pad found its way onto a pair of jeans before they landed in the washer and was then transported via wet jeans to the dryer (on top of Wife's laundry) and the heat from the dryer released the sticky goo all over EVERYBODY's clothes! His accomplishment was the bane of her sanity!  (I would like to have been a fly on that wall!)

Be careful what you wish for.

Seems to me I would rather snag a pair of pants from the floor rather than let a novice laundryman have at my washer.  Just sayin'. . . . .


On a side note:

Today at lunch Itty Bitty, Ben and I were talking about age.  Don't ask ~ don't know.  All was well until this conversation (if you want to call it that):

Itty Bitty ~ to me:  "You are past old.
Me:  "What does that mean?"  (One would think I would have learned my lesson by now.  Never ask if your really don't want to know)
Itty Bitty:  "It means you are probably older than you think."

Hm.  I'm sure that could go either way.  I think I'm young, but obviously I'm not ~ OR ~ I think I'm old which means I could kick the bucket any day now. 
It doesn't help that Ben is choking on his food at that conversation.  Nope.  Not at all.

Thank you, Itty Bitty, for those Words of Wisdom.

She Had A Dream . . .

She, being, my Goldilocks.  We've been having some weirder than weird dreams around here lately.  Don't know why, but they have been doozies!  

A couple days ago Ben and I were discussing this anomaly and sharing our dreams.  Goldilocks, being nosey attentive, chose to share hers.  Here it is as best I can relate it:

"I dreamt that when I got off the school bus it was the same, but different.  Across the street where Larry's fence is there was a row of bathrooms.  There was this old woman following me and she had my violin and backpack and wouldn't give it back to me.  I was following Ben and he turned around and said: 'Why are you following me?' I tried to tell him the old woman had my violin and I wanted it back.  Then he went into one of the bathrooms. When he came out I asked him to get my stuff back.  After I got my stuff I started walking toward home and the old lady jumped on my back and started doing the "giddy up" motion to make me walk faster.  I finally shook her off and ran home!  Mom-mom, she was a short old lady with white curly hair! She scared me to death!" 

And as my Goldilocks was re-living this terror, her voice was all rapid and breathy.  When she finally came to a place where she could catch her breath she calmly, but matter of factly,  said to me:  "I need a dream catcher."    I told her I was pretty sure they were only for looks and really didn't work.  She politely informed me that Natalie had one hanging over her bed and she  NEVER  has dreams.   Well, there you go.  The proof is in the dream catcher.

So, being the sensitive grandmother that I am, I found her a little something today at Salvation Army for a whopping twenty-five cents.  (apparently it didn't fit the bill for the previous owner).

Her very own. . . .

 

. . .  Dream Catcher!

 

She was thrilled!  As a matter of fact I think her very words were:  "Thank the Lord!"    What can ya say?

"Snow" Day

School was canceled this morning . . . . just in case . . . . it snowed.  "Why o' why?" my heart does ask.

The Apple Dumpling Gang was thrilled!  No school!  Yay!  Whoopee!  The odds were ever in their favor.

So, here's the low down on how it's going down.

Snow was suppose to visit around lunch time.  Okay, I'll go with that.  No need to send those rosy little cheeks to school just to turn around and send them back.  No sane person wants to wrangle with unexpected phone calls and a place to park those anxious little bundles of endless energy.  None that I know anyway.

So, my Apple Dumpling Gang decided to make it a "Pajama Day", complete with movies and lounging around all day.  (They weren't expecting me to make them clean their pen room).  Ahhhh, the joys of grand parenting! 

I did grant them their heart's desire after said punishment chore was done. Oh, and I'm not letting them bicker.   I'm nice like that.  Ahhhh,  the joys of grand parenting!

Hold up . . . . Bob needs to tell me a story.

I'm back.

 

Um, no.  I didn't drug Reasy Peacy.  And, no.  I don't know why she's doing that.

I do know they have full bellies and a complacent spirit right now.  Even Audrey Dog

got in on the snuggles.  The only thing bothering me is Itty Bitty's bare feet! 

 

At the time of this pic, about 1:30ish, the only thing going on outside is:  grey skies, wind and little drizzle.   Be still my beating heart!  I can hardly take the anticipation of snow.  Jolly good prediction.

 

 Hmmmm. . . . so much for complacent spirits.  I hear disgruntlement going on in there.  Movie is over and the natives are restless!  They are descending upon me, by the hoards.   There's no place to hide!  No.  Place.   Ahhh. . . . the joy of grand parenting!

 

Gotta run, 'cause I'm being overrun!

 

Catch ya on the flip side!

 

PS:   It is spitting snow, and Itty Bitty has scissors ~ rolling in floor because they've been removed from her grasp.  Ahhhh. . . .  the joy of grand parenting!

 

PSS:  Did I hear someone say "NAP TIME"?   Yes?   Okay!

Bat Master Son and His Side Kick, Goldilocks

Every now and then we encounter the very thing that will make a grown man scream like a girl:  A Bat.  One such encounter occurred Monday night as we were nonchalantly watching "Wheel of Fortune".  The girls were piled on the sofa with me.  Kelly was stretched out on the love seat and Ben was tethered to his phone in a chair behind me and the girls. 

You know how sometimes you think you see a flicker of something, but it's not really there?  Well, that's what I thought.  As I was getting ready to show Rease a quilt block I had made that day Helena screamed:  "There's a bat!".  Now that gets your attention in a hurry.  All business stops and we stare up toward the ceiling and sure enough here it comes, swooping and spiraling from the top of the stairs into the living room creating a pandemonium of great magnitude.  All girls jam up against me, taking cover underneath the box that holds my quilt blocks ~ 'cuase, ya know, bats love hair ~ Kelly bolts out of the house, I think and Ben ends up near the dining room on his belly.  That's where we all remained as we screamed like girls every time the bat would swoop down and circle.  It would go back up the stairs and return lickety-split-quick ~ just to torment us, not once, not twice, but hundreds of times. Okay, not hundreds, but a lot.  We were frozen where we were ~ except for Ben who, by then, was slithering on his belly across the floor to retrieve his phone.  It must have had the wing span of 5 feet!  No kidding.  Well, maybe 18 to 24 inches, but no smaller.  I'm almost sure of that! 

It finally went back up the stairs and didn't come back down.  Now there's food for thought.  Who's room did it decided to park its scary, batty little self in?  Hm?   It was up for debate.  Meantime, Kelly reappeared (with pillow on head, looking like she stepped out of a cartoon), Bob made his presence known, and discussion began on how to "remove" this beast from OUR home. It was a conundrum of sorts.

Since we couldn't "visually and easily see" this home invader and couldn't guarantee that it left by the same means in which it entered. Kelly decided to go to Colin's house for the night.
She gathered Baby Girl and left the older two to decide their fate.  They, being brave souls, decided to stay home and tough it out ~ until it was nearing bedtime.  I gently informed them that my bed was not big enough for four people.  They needed to chew on it for a bit. 

In the meantime what follows next, well, is typical for our home.  Bat Master Son (chaser of the bat, Master of his fate, and Son of my life) and his sidekick, Goldilocks (my heart throb) took matters into their own hands.

They don the safety gear - helmets, gloves, bats (as in baseball)
crab nets, flashlights and a tennis racket

He's going on a "Bat Hunt". . . . . Notice ~ all nooks and crannies are
covered.  No bat touching his skin, no sir!

Goldilocks is a little braver - more skin exposed,
but she's walking softly and carrying a big stick!

They suited up and proceeded to go on a "Bat Hunt".  All went dark upstairs as they tried to flush the beast from it's hiding spot.  Slowly, stealthily, they went from room to room, shaking curtains checking door frames, lamp shades, on top of and behind dressers. You name it, they checked it. All to no avail.  The beast was much more clever than they.  It had picked it's hiding spot well.  Away from probing eyes and "Bat Artillery.  Clever.  Little.  Beast. 

They gave up the hunt. They felt sure it was closed up in the third floor bedroom.  Sure of it.  But, just in case all upstairs doors were shut (either to keep the beast in or to keep him out).  Not being secure that the beast wouldn't enter their bedroom, the girls opted to stay with their dad.  No bats in his house.  They wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open ~ unlike the rest of us who were doomed to stay in the House of Bat.

Not seeing the beast for a couple hours, we felt confident (somewhat) that he was indeed trapped on the third floor.  So Bob and I retired for the night.

Just about midnight as I was settling into a deep sleep, my bedroom door flies open and in jumps Ben. Bat Master Son yells that he got the bat, but he thinks he knocked it out!
What?  Down I go to inspect the situation.  Yep, there he was, wrapped in the crab net.  He had emerged from only God knows where to descend back down the stairs, catching Bat Master Son off guard.  He swung the net and with one fell swoop and knocked the Beast down!

We stand there for a few seconds analyzing the situation and Bat Master Son asks for the flashlight.  He needed to check out the "Creature".  He bends over and touches it with the flashlight.  The bat flips out and looks like it's about to take flight.  That's all I can say, because Bat Master Son and I both screamed and did the "Curly Shuffle" to exit the area just in case our lives were in jeopardy!
I didn't realize I still had it in me to move that fast!  Whew, I guess when your life is on the line you can do miraculous things.   I heard Bob laughing up stairs.  Yea, he can laugh because he wasn't on the front line, defending his homeland.  But, we didn't let him off Scot free.  He got to take the Beast outside and rid us of it.  Whatever went down out there is between Bob, the Beast and the Heavens. 

Ahhh.   Sweet peace.   All's calm on the Home Front, at least until the next adventure, be it plumbing, traveling or bat hunting.

"Cheeseburger in Paradise"

Life is a "Drama Queen" sometimes.  And sometimes it's a "Barrel of Monkeys".  Today, it's a "Barrel of Monkeys".  Or more appropriately, today is a "Cheeseburger in Paradise". 

My boy bought this shirt at the end of the season to wear on that day when he chose to bid summer good-bye.  He thought today was as good a day as any.  So he donned his duds and headed out the door to hang with one of his buds.  (Do they even say that anymore?)

Words cannot express what the picture says:

 

The shirt has cheeseburgers and fries all over it (the "Big-Mac" type) ~ in bright oranges, yellows and tans.

His shorts are green and white pin-striped seersucker.

Green Polo golfing socks.

Orange, brown and tan Sperry's.

Pink Von Zipper hat.

 

Can I say more?  I think Baby Girl's expression says it for me.

 

He's going to try to convince his friend that they NEED SHOULD  run into town.  It takes a very secure person in their own skin to: 

1.  Think about such a concoction

2.  Wear such a concoction

3.  Even toy with the idea of being seen in public in such a concoction

4.  To GO into public in such a concoction

 

Secure, indeed.  That's my boy.

 

Now lest you think he's the only one of my youngin's to be so brazen, well, I have something in store for you.  :) 

 

Stay tuned.

Comedy Central, Bang 'em Up and Leaky Things

I have a lot to share about my summer.  A lot of fun,  nice things.  But since this is so fresh on my mind and has left me temporarily scarred, I will go ahead and share this first so I can get on with the healing process.

My summer has been a blur of busyness! But, life has a way of inserting its quirkiness ~ like it or not. In this case it was a "NOT". Our glorious old bathroom ~ the one that you have to drop an A-bomb on to begin remodel ~ had an on-curring tub faucet leak. One that was so bad I threatened the no-no word: Nag. We already had a new faucet, so let's get this thing on! That's what I "suggested". So, my trusty, feisty handyman, Ben, decided to tackle the beast. He is after all, fearless when it comes to this old house. And. . . he decided to tackle it in the late, very late, afternoon, on a Sunday. Not a good idea me thinks. He did, however ~ in his defense ~ buy some supplies beforehand. But you know life ~ it has a mean sense of humor, and we didn't have all we needed. Not feeling his own brute strength he (he being Ben, the Man, the Beast) turned a pipe wrench, or some kind of tool, a little too hard, hit the hot water line breaking it in half. Before anyone downstairs could register what his screams were about, approximately 300 gallons of water (in his - being Ben's guesstimate) spilled onto the floor (in the scary closet that only grown, brave men will venture into, behind our glorious old bathroom) and down onto the porch below. What occurred next was a mixture of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly", and "The Three Stooges". (I can say that now because the pain has subsided somewhat). Ben has a shop vac attachment trying to funnel the water into a bucket and dump it into the tub. Not a pretty sight. He bolts down two flights of stairs, to the basement to shut off the main valve (of which there appeared to be several ), only to bolt back up two flights of stairs to find out his efforts were futile. By the time Bob and I made it to the bathroom, to say he was irritated and hysterical would be an understatement. After a couple of trips, Bob finally found the correct shut off valve and the meltdowns began. Oh yeah, I had one. Outside. Away from the pain of water damage and the frustration of a self proclaimed plumber.  Poor Kelly tried to console me, but to no avail.  Ben, the Man, the Beast, had one in our glorious old bathroom with the scary closet. Everyone else looked like deer caught in the headlights. Afraid to move, afraid to speak. Not pretty. No ma'am.

 In retrospect, Sunday probably was a good day to have this "catastrophe", since Bob and Kelly had work on Monday. Less folk in the house. Needless to say, Mr. Handyman had to get up a the butt crack of dawn to get to Lowe's to get the rest of his supplies (he was a trooper ~ and he had to make more than one trip). God love this boy's soul! He made me stay with him in that glorious old bathroom for moral support. I wasn't allowed to offer up much opinion ~ I just had to be a live, breathing body in the same room. And on occasion, I was allowed to hand him some kind of tool, or plumbing stuff, or the faucet, or a drink.  It's  hard work being a plumber's helper!  The girls were real troopers. Hope and Rease kept Helena and Piper busy. Thank the Lord for them! That was one less thing for me to worry about.

So, it's been about two weeks (seems like five minutes ago) and we have a new tub faucet, free of leaks and quite cute in that old glorious bathroom. Now to fix the leak in the sink. . . . . .

Are "A-bombs" illegal?

Go Ahead, Call me a Sissy. . . .

. . . I don't care. I just - well a couple hours ago - lived thru my very first, unannounced, terrifying to me, earthquake. And I am not ashamed to say I was borderline panic. Yep. Panicking over a 5.9 that centered out of Richmond, VA. That's the one. The one that rocked the shore - the shore that never gets earthquakes. Never. Can I say for the record that I don't care if we never get another one? Never. (I'm liking the word "never" right now.)

I was minding my own business, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating an egg sandwich, chatting with Paul and the girls when the events unfolded. What felt like at first was a shake akin to that of a very large truck idling very roughly in the driveway very close to the house
(I like the word very, too.), turned into something much stronger, shaking dishes in my cabinets, rumbling the house, causing my hanging plants to sway, and ultimately terrifying me and the girls. Paul confirmed, very calmly, what I suspected. We just witnessed an earthquake!

"Man the phones, heads up twitterers, get on FB all ye that are able!" was the call heard round the shore! Not really, but thanks to technology news arrived within seconds confirming what all had suspected. According to Kelly and Bob, they didn't feel a thing - they were both in cars on the road. Hmm. . . are they kindred spirits or do they have some kind of sixth sense? After checking in - back and forth with loved ones, the panic subsided, but the sweaty palms and pounding head, and nervous tummies hung around for a bit, as did some residual effects, such as the pool water. Rease nervously pointed out that the water was going up and down. I said yes - it's the filter. She said "No, mom-mom, it's going up and down. Look." I must say there is something a little unsettling about water contained in a pool that looks like it's moving up and down like a breathing machine. Unsettling. Okay - I stand corrected - Ben said the water was moving from side to side in the pool, not, and I repeat, not, going up and down. Bummer. It sounds more dramatic going up and down.

But we are good for now. All is seemingly well. We will be just fine. I think.