27 May 2014

The Chik

I tried. I failed.

I've got the new virus that's taken Haiti by swarm--mosquito swarm, that is. I personally know 13 people who've had it, and that number is on the rise.

Not everybody's got it, but few can pronounce it anyway...

"Chicken-monkey."

"Chikamunga."

And for the truly lazy..."that chicken thing."

It's your standard tropical illness in many ways. Fever, rash, fatigue...but for the record, I don't feel like my bones are breaking...that's not how I'd describe it at all.

My hips feel like I tried to do the Jillian Michaels 30-day shred--all 30 days at once.

My neck feels like I was rear ended by a Mack truck. (By the way, when I was ten and we were rear ended at a gas station, the nurse prescribed Popsicles and Bugs Bunny. Oh, to be ten again.)

My feet feel like someone ran over them with a loaded grocery cart--and then backed up for good measure. Did you know there are 33 joints in your feet? I did, because I can feel every one when I walk.

And my hands...don't get me started on them. Opening a jar? Forget it. Picking up Peter? Rough. Even typing this with one finger is a bit tiring. 

But the thing that hurts most is that I feel like I should've done more. Yes, I zapped everything that flew. I coated myself is smelly sprays. We limited our outdoor time. But it still feels like my fault. And now I'm not there for the people who need me. 

Please pray that Peter wouldn't get it. I'm thankful for my fantastic husband (who's already had it) who's taking good care of the boy. He's the best.

Hey, I just remembered we have Popsicles in the fridge...

I gotta go.






17 May 2014

Revenge of the Vermin


Oh dear. 

Mama Rat had a brood. Three, to be exact, who have decided that my house is where the good stuff is. To that end, they are squeaking and sniffing and clawing the doors to get in.

This will not do.

Pete is fascinated. He keeps saying "This!", which is his way of asking for something to be identified. Rat, I say. Rat. He's the one who spotted it, climbing the bars. Needless to say, he lost all interest in lunch. "Hi!" He waves. 

Oh dear. 

I went out to find my dog. She was sheepish. "Come on, get it!" I say, pointing them out. She lay down in the sun to sleep.  

This will not do.

could see it was up to me. I put out my "humane" mouse trap, hoping it will trigger, since they are small. They ignored it, at first. But eventually, the salty scent of peanut butter was too much for one. Pete jumped when the trap went off...then watched it thrash until I scooted his high chair away from the window and tried to get him to watch TV. He is looking over his shoulder now, mouth full of grilled cheese, saying "Ow." 

Oh dear. 

One down...two to go.

13 May 2014

Victory over the Vermin



This is the crack 
in my concrete yard
Where the rat breathed his last.


This is the dog
Who cornered the rat
Who breathed his last 
In a concrete crack in my yard.


This is the boy
Who found the "cat"
(Who was really a rat)
Who got trapped by the dog
And breathed his last 
In a concrete crack in my yard.

...he signed cat and said "mow!" all morning...sigh.


These are the tools 
The brave mama used
To get rid of the "cat"
(Who was really a rat)
Who got trapped by the dog
And breathed his last
In a concrete crack in my yard.

And before you think me cruel and heartless, I *tried* to block his entry into my yard. See?


I was super proud of Nessie, who in general has a very Swiss attitude toward other creatures in the yard...until I found out my neighbor had set out poison the night before. I still choose to think she had a hand--er, paw--in the matter. 

Anyway, I wash my hands of the whole thing.


Literally.