Category Archives: Humor

6

Cats + Hedgehog + WordPress = Success

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You may have guessed that I am not particularly detail-oriented about a lot of things. For example, I looked at the WordPress Stats page for the first couple of weeks I was blogging and haven’t been back. (It’s probably a little less depressing now.)

I am gracious enough to see who has joined the blog and check out their site. I reply to comments and look at the notification of who has “liked” a blog.

I’m guessing that the posts that continue to get “likes” as time goes by are the ones that appear in the little box you get telling you that someone liked your post. Which keeps them in the little box until you write something even more thrilling.

Anyway, after a period of (more or less) being clueless, it has slowly come to my attention that some subjects are significantly more popular than others. (I can sense the collective “duh!” out there.) Based on nothing other than a vague recollection of what I have received in my in-box, I think my topics are cats, hedgehogs, and WordPress/blogging.

So I had a brilliant idea. <groan> The cats and hedgehog should get their own blog. They could write about their adventures and become a WordPress sensation. Then I started thinking. (It’s a bad sign when the thinking comes after the great idea.)

  • Collectively, they sleep between 55 and 60 hours/day. That doesn’t leave much time for adventures.
  • None of them can type.
  • They don’t speak the same language. And none of them speak any type of human.
  • There are several cat-narrated blogs out there. I’m not sure that working with a hedgehog would be enough to differentiate them.
  • None of them are particularly good at working in groups (“diva syndrome”)
  • They don’t seem very interested in schedules, unless it’s for feeding time. Hugely irregular posting is not the route to celebrity.

So I’ve decided to share my blog with them. They will be making occasional appearances as guest-bloggers. I will type and make sure everything is in English.

That said, they need User Profiles. In order of adoption into the family:

Super Snooper – I am a beautiful calico cat. I joined the family in May 2012 when I was 2 years old. They rescued me from a shelter that must have had a million dogs in it. It was awful! My favorite activities are eating, sleeping and cuddling. I also like to eat photographs. I enjoy an occasional mousing expedition. Since it’s gotten colder, I really enjoy sleeping by the fireplace. I tried to climb in it after a cleaning, but the human made me get out. (There wasn’t a fire in there; I don’t know what the problem was.) My favorite toys are a stuffed sheep and a stuffed rat. I also go by the initials SS.

Kommando Kitty – I am part Siamese and part generic snow cat. I have extremely thick, white and gray, ultra-fine fur made for cold weather. I prefer to cuddle in front of the fire or in bed. I also enjoy sleeping and mousing. I joined the family in July 2012 when I was about 4 weeks old. My first humans deserted me. I tried to jump in the window here twice, but fell in the window well both times. Finally they brought me into the house. My new favorite toy is something Mom (the alpha female here) calls a laptop computer. I am making it do things even she doesn’t understand. I go by the initials KK.

Horatio Hedgehog – I am an African Pygmy Hedgehog. I have black and white quills and a furry tummy. I joined the family last Christmas. It is really cold here. Luckily the humans have given me a heater. I don’t really like cats, but these two are OK. Dad (the alpha male) finally figured out that I was tired of only getting kitty kibble to eat (I’m not a cat, you know). So now I get a few wax worms at night. They are extremely yummy. I only have one toy, my wheel. But I really like it and use it every night. I go by the initials HH.

So that’s the team. They wanted a title for their posts, so people won’t confuse them with mine. We have come up with Kritter Kapers. (Nobody gets their name in the title.) I read that the letter “K” is supposed to appeal to readers. I don’t get it – it just looks misspelled to me. You will see the first post sometime next month.

Assuming I can keep Kommando from turning off my email or Internet access.

12

I Want to Meet the Person Who…

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Came up with the Starbuck’s drink that uses chocolate, caramel, whipped cream, and milk. Oh yeah, and coffee. I read somewhere that the large size has around 1200 calories. Do people really want to use up two-thirds of their recommended daily calorie allotment before they even look at food? I guess you could ask for low fat milk.

Decided that Christmas should start the day after Halloween. Do stores really want to advertise that the chocolate Santas will be two months old before they make it into someone’s stocking?

Designed women’s suede boots to be worn outside. How chic is it to arrive at a party and have to immediately excuse yourself to clean your boots before the salt permanently stains them? Or walk around with stained boots?

Thought up carrying a small dog as an accessory. I’m not convinced the dog really enjoys the crowds and the noise. And I have never seen one allowed to pick out his own food or toys. Not even a Halloween costume.

Decided that women weren’t injuring their feet and calves enough in 3” heels and introduced 4” and 5” shoes. And then thought up the ad campaigns to get young women to wear them.

Introduced the idea of “No Poo.” (Which, thankfully, has fallen out of favor.) And convinced a lot of women that not washing their hair for six weeks would be good for it. Hair is dead. Not shampooing every day to allow the natural oils to do their work? Good. Looking like a refugee from a ‘60s commune? Not so good.

Has convinced some people that a giant inflatable Santa looks good next to a Nativity scene on their front lawn. Two different concepts of Christmas. At least separate them by a sidewalk. Santa blowing over onto Jesus is not festive.

Decided not to commercialize Thanksgiving. You’ve missed untold opportunities for people to hang turkey ornaments on their outside trees, buy chocolate turkeys, and exchange tacky cards. Would you please talk to whoever is in charge of Christmas and Easter?

Sold people on the idea that they need a separate set of dishes for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. Not serving dishes or candy dishes. Full soup-to-nuts sets. (Does anyone know that phrase anymore?) I know there are people with enough room to store all that stuff. Do they really shop at Walmart?

Designed some parking lots so all the handicapped spots are down one lane rather than across two or three lanes in front of the store. Are you hoping to catch scammers that way? Or do you hate your mother and decided it would be a better outlet than becoming a serial killer? (Too many episodes of Criminal Minds?)

Decided to put “ethnic” vegetables in stores in “non-ethnic” neighborhoods without educating us. I wouldn’t mind trying the yellow, oblong, spiky thing or the green thing that looks like a mace with the long handle and round ball at the end. But there are no pictures (or there are 12 pictures, none of which look like what I have in my hand) and no description of its taste or use. Google is not helpful when you type in “yellow spiky vegetable.” And I don’t want to buy something that is going to make my chicken taste like dirty socks because it’s supposed to be eaten raw.

Designed my car radio with six buttons, but forces me to have two FM, one AM, and three Sirius stations. I don’t have Sirius; I don’t drive enough to justify the cost. With my husband, my son, and me driving the car, it’s easier for me to just listen to whatever is on. I never know whether I’m going to get Tom Petty or The Congos when I turn the key. At least I know I won’t get opera or bluegrass.

Designed the website for our Secretary of State. It wouldn’t let me use the location finder because I wouldn’t let its tracker know where I was. But when I backed up the screen, it gave me the closest office.

4

Maybe I Need a Stronger Scent

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A while back, I saw a Jack Nicholson film, “Wolf”. It’s about a guy who hits a wolf with his car. He feels badly about it and gets out to check on the wolf. Unfortunately, it bites him. More unfortunately, it’s a werewolf. Of course, the guy starts turning into a werewolf himself.

One of my favorite scenes takes place in the corporate mens’ room. The company has been taken over, and his job was given to a favorite of the new company. He manages to get his job back. Then he sees his rival at the urinal. He goes over and urinates on the man’s very expensive shoes, marking his territory.

I was reminded of that scene last week. I have not been working weekends for a while, which was really nice. But then I discovered that no one from our department was helping unload the truck on Saturday mornings. Our biggest load day. No wonder everyone hates the deli. (Fortunately, no one ever remembers I’m part of the deli.)

I asked the Team Leader (TL) about it. “I don’t have anyone coming in that early.” Ummmm. Maybe you should schedule someone that early?

Short version – I said I’d work 1a – 9:30a. There was another woman who worked cheese during the day on Saturdays and Sundays. We’ll call her “J”. TL had thought it would be a great idea to have our schedules overlap by several hours. Just what the customers want on a busy Saturday morning – empty shelves and two people in their way trying to fill them.

Luckily she settled for a half hour overlap the first day. I had heard J was not the most pleasant person to work with. Oh, goody.

First thing she does after she comes in is moves one of my carts. “This is the way I work every weekend.” Okaaay. And I volunteered for this.

I’m hanging cheese, and she comes over. “I thought you were supposed to leave at 9.” “No, 9:30.” “TL told me 9.” I realized that it would irritate her more to be cheerful, so I said, “Well, the schedule says 9:30,” very sweetly. She stomped off.

This past weekend, J had something to do so we overlapped three hours. I taught her how to unload pallets, then left to do other things in the deli. I think I ceded my territory to her.

Not that this is the first time. I volunteered to do markdowns in the deli a couple of times. It’s now my job. Same with inventory checks.

They lost another stocker yesterday. After only 10 days. So I’m back to unloading meat and salads. And chickens. I hate chickens. “I don’t have anyone else to do it.”

Why can’t TL do it? In the past she’s told me, “Men should do this. It’s not a woman’s job.” Mmmm-hmmmm. Insulting to me and women in general. Not really that easy to do.

And TL wants me to help the guy on Friday with the deli load – “He’s so slow.” After I do the cheese load. And her markdowns. And her inventory checks. And set her stock.

Kicked out of another watering hole.

It’s not like it should surprise anyone. I’ve told you in the past about the animals around our yard not being afraid of me. I even had a woodchuck stare rather than run.

Apparently it’s gotten around the neighborhood. It’s still (very) dark when I go to work. The animals are wandering around, getting things ready for winter. In the past week, I’ve had two possums sit in the middle of the road (one was even on the line) and watch me go by. They must have gotten off the road shortly afterwards, since there were no bodies later.

Same with a little raccoon. He wandered onto the road and sat to watch me drive by. I think I know how the animals in the zoo feel. Three deer meandered past me on the road.

I would really, really hate to hit anything. But sitting and watching me drive by is embarrassing. I never thought of myself as an alpha- animal, but I think they might be pushing me somewhere south of gamma.

I guess it really doesn’t matter. With my luck, if I marked something it would just attract an amorous bear.

14

WordPress, I am Really Disappointed in You

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Dear WordPress

I thought we were friends, maybe a little more. We’ve been together for more than a year now. You’ve introduced me to a lot of people, most of them friendly and kind. (Although there was that one guy who seemed to get stranger and stranger the more he posted.) You helped me improve my writing and gave me an outlet for my strange humor. You never judged.

But one day, you stopped sending me emails from the people I was following. I waited, but still nothing from you. After a few days, I sent an email to your help desk. No response. Obviously I didn’t mean as much to you as you do to me. I checked my blog list. No, I hadn’t inadvertently turned off the notifications of everybody.

Finally, I realized that I would have to look outside our relationship. I posted to the forum. They answered within a couple of hours. The writer gave me a link to see whether or not I had blocked the emails. It said I had.

WordPress, I don’t even know how to get to that screen. Obviously, we are having serious communication problems. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you trying to cut me off from every one. I visit you almost every day. I give you posts. I check out a lot of other sites.

Speaking of other sites, what’s up with the ones you are suggesting for me? I know I am following a wide variety of sites, but your choices seem a little strange. I really don’t think you understand me at all.

For instance, the ones that are “followed by the people I follow”. The people I follow are talented. If I’m following three good poets, which one of them is responsible for you sending me to a blog that wouldn’t make the cut for discount greeting cards?

And why don’t I see those sites when I look at the posts I receive? Are you trying to create trouble between me and the people I follow? Are you trying to tell me that those people have talent, but no taste? Or do you have bloggers you want me to support? Are there kickbacks involved?

What about those humor sites you send me to? I would guess there are several hundred thousand humor blogs that are actually funny. Do all of my contacts have that many unfunny friends they are supporting? Are all of the good blogs written in Danish?

And the sites where I have “liked” something previously. Am I the only one who “likes” a post, but really isn’t that fond of the general content of a blog? Maybe after a few weeks of me still not following, you could get the hint and take it off my “suggested” list? Obviously I have been there and am still not following.

What is the idea behind sites that are similar to sites you follow? I actively follow (have the posts come to my email) blogs on poetry, photography, humor, history, travel, philosophy, animals, and life stories. I passively follow (occasionally looking at the Reader) several more of the same type. Why do you send me cooking sites? Or gardening?

The final group I get are “Freshly Pressed”. They seem to be a hodgepodge of blogs that may or may not be related to my interests. Are you trying to get more followers for your favorite “Freshly Pressed”? Do you assume that since you like them, I will like them?

I have tried typing in tags to find something I might like. Strangely enough, “hedgehogs” and “bears” took me to a list of sites that actually use that tag. When I typed in “humor”, I did not get a list of sites. I got sent to the list of topics I could choose from. One of which was humor. When I clicked “humor” there, I got a list of blogs that used the category humor. There are no blogs that use the tag “humor”?

I tried “Recommended”. No matter which topic I picked, there were so many choices it would have taken a day (or more) to get through them all. Who is recommending them all? Do they get to stay on there forever? Have you been introduced to the concept of “sub-topic”?

WordPress, I think you are playing favorites. You won’t tell me how blogs get put on certain lists or get awards, but you want me to trust your judgment. Judgment that doesn’t seem to understand me at all.

I was obviously wrong about you. I thought you cared. Now I see I’m only a file to you, nothing more. But get a clue – if you keep suggesting things that I might like and I don’t, I may just stop trusting you.

Sincerely

Cat9984

6

Who Taught You How to Drive?

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I learned something very important Monday night. If a semi (truck) “bumps” your car straight on from behind, and you are going more or less the same speed (obviously he would be going a little faster), it may not really hurt your car.

I take a class Monday nights at a town that is about 30 miles from here. I use a freeway to get there. All was good until I needed to exit. The freeway was full of semis. They travel in the right lane, which is also where the exits are (go figure).

Trying to not create too much havoc, I found a spot between a car and a semi. I moved over then checked my rearview mirror to make sure I hadn’t cut him off. I could see the entire front end. I thought the rule was if you can see the driver, he can see you. Once again, all was well. Emphasis on “I thought”.

I am really bad about using my mirrors unless I am going to turn or change lanes or whatever. (Do they really expect you to scan them every 30 seconds? I’d run into something in front of me.)

For some reason I looked again, and he was closer. I thought that he must have been one of those jerk drivers who try to intimidate small cars. (I drive an Elantra).

Semi drivers are usually pretty good drivers and I was almost to my exit, so I figured it was just an annoyance. Silly me. I looked again. He was almost on top of me.

Something hit me from behind. Yep. The exit was about 200 yards too far away. It’s amazing how hard a semi can hit even at a low speed. I guess they really are the ones destroying our roads.

I was extremely annoyed. I need the car for work, and I’m sharing it with my son. I didn’t have time to take it to the shop. And apparently cars don’t have frames anymore. It’s all magic and fiberglass. Besides it’s only seven months old. And I was going to be late for class.

So I stopped on the side of the exit. I stomped to the back of my car. It was a little dirty (my fault), but I didn’t see anything wrong. Then I realized I hadn’t heard any crunch or breaking plastic (or glass or whatever they use). Maybe they really do use magic.

The truck driver came over to see if I was OK. He said he hadn’t seen me and bumped into me. Ummmm, OK. You’re a professional driver. Don’t they train you to look for merging traffic? But he was very nice, and I sent him on his way. Then he was very relieved.

If you look at where we live, you would see that it’s difficult to get anywhere without using a freeway. Many lakes mean no major roads. So I have a lot of experience with semis. I realized that this wasn’t my most annoying encounter. At least it was a one-time occurrence.

To get to several of the places I frequent, I have to take a four-lane freeway. That’s four lanes in the sense of two lanes going in each direction. It’s not really a bad drive, even in rush hour. In comparison with rush hour on other freeways around here.

However, it is the major north-south freeway in this part of the state. Which means a lot of trucks hauling a lot of stuff during the morning rush hour. A lot of heavy stuff. Trucks carrying heavy stuff aren’t supposed to go really fast. The speed limit theoretically is 55 mph on the 70 mph freeway. So they’re in the right lane.

Every once in a while, a large heavy truck wants to go 60 mph. So he has to pull into the “fast lane”. Which is no longer the “fast lane”. Once the driver gets out from behind the slow truck, he realizes that he can’t zip around another big truck like he does in his pick-up. So everyone goes slow for a while.

That is far more irritating than the semis that drive in Detroit during rush hour. I generally hold back for them which makes me very unpopular with the drivers behind me.

Some people don’t like to be behind semis. So they don’t let them in. Finally the truck driver gets frustrated and forces the truck between two cars. That really irks the drivers on the freeway. The cars behind the truck on the entry ramp are not so upset.

Some people hate being behind semis on snowy roads. Not me. They are usually excellent drivers. Full trucks are slow, but so am I. They very rarely swerve or skid. They pack down snow nicely, and it’s still warm when I go over it so I don’t have to worry about ice. And people don’t get mad at me for going slow. They blame the truck.

Moral of the story: Most truck drivers aren’t like the guy in ‘Duel’ (a surprisingly good 1971 TV movie about a psycho truck driver, directed by Steven Spielberg). However, if it looks like one is going to run you over, use your horn to make sure it’s not intentional.

0

I Don’t Remember any Vacation

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A few weeks ago, I realized that my work anniversary was coming up soon, and I still had vacation time left. When I started at the store three years ago, that would have meant a decision between taking the time off and getting the extra money.

However, management has changed hands. Now you either use your vacation by your anniversary date or you lose it. There was no announcement of the change in policy, but it didn’t take many people losing the money for word to get around.

Studies have shown that vacations are good for productivity. I hope that the studies were referring to work productivity. Today is the last day of my vacation, and I honestly don’t remember how I spent most of the time.

I decided to take one of those vacations where you just stay around the house and relax. My husband was working and the kids had school, so I could just hang out.

Except for the newspapers everywhere. And the 10+ magazines laying around. And taking my son to his driving test. And picking up his “new” car. (It’s a ’72 VW Beetle, and it is SO cute!) And the meeting in Detroit. And needing to do church stuff.

And hundreds of e-mails. (I love you guys, but for some reason you never seem to write fewer posts just because I’m really busy. Gotta work on my telepathy.) Don’t tell me to read everything through my Reader. I rotate who comes by email because the Reader is full of other blogs that I look at occasionally. If I promised to read everything in my Reader, I would never look at much of anything.

So here I am on Sunday evening. I read a few of the magazines. I threw away some of the papers (after reading them). You can’t tell the difference. It still looks like we’re waiting to paper the walls with newsprint.

I caught up on all the Internet news services I follow. I’d forgotten just how depressing the news can be when you actually read the full stories. I may just go back to reading the headlines and celebrity gossip.

Could someone send me a note if ISIS makes it to Ankara or Ebola wipes out an entire nation? I don’t need to know if George Clooney and his new wife get pregnant with the world’s current cutest baby ever. Remember to mark it “Urgent”. I’m not sure how long it will take for the e-mailbox to overflow again.

I finished a book. Yay!!! That only leaves about hmmmm twenty-five or so to go. That does not include the ones on Kindle since I read those on breaks at work. I got caught up on the reading for my Monday night class.

If it sounds like I spent all my time on my rear, you are wrong. I also spent a couple of naps with the cats. They were amazingly friendly once they got over the trauma of me not getting up at 2:30a to feed them.

Kommando Kitty has learned that if I’m lying on the sofa using the laptop, she only has to try sending one email before I pick her up. She has also turned on Spotify a couple of times. (She has terrible taste in music.)

I did not get the yard ready for winter. I did not look for another job. I did not do one single thing that I will be able to tell people tomorrow when they ask what I did with my time off. And it’s great.

The really scary part is that I only really have trouble with my sinuses at work. At home, I am generally tissue-free unless there’s some kind of front coming through (you Michiganders out there know what I mean). But this morning I woke up with dry eyes and a semi-runny nose. The aching in my front sinuses is there too. MY BODY KNOWS IT’S GOING BACK TO WORK TOMORROW. And it’s not happy.

I see by the ads that some of the Halloween stuff is already on sale. Anybody in the market for a taco costume for your dog? How about some orange and brown chips for cookies. (I think they’re all chocolate, but it doesn’t come out and say that.)

The Christmas toys have been clogging up the back rooms for a while. The sooner you buy the Halloween stuff, the sooner we can all start complaining about the commercialization of Christmas. Time’s a-wasting.

10

Cat Forum: Living with a Hedgehog

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On this edition of Cat Forum our two resident experts, Super Snoops (SS) and Kommando Kitty (KK) will answer questions regarding living with their somewhat unusual housemate, Horatio Hedgehog.

Host: How did you feel when the humans brought a hedgehog into the house?

SS: We didn’t know what it was. It looked like a gift for us that needed to be unwrapped to get rid of all the pointy things.

KK: But it smelled horrible. Not like any mouse I’d ever known.

Host: When did you find out what it really was?

KK: The male human was cuddling it. Can you imagine actually wanting to hold that?

SS: And he held it up to the female, and said it was an early Christmas present. She was all excited and told him how cute it was. No accounting for taste.

KK: We went on the computer and looked it up. It said African Pygmy Hedgehog.

SS: We wondered when it would be going back to the Africa Hedge.

KK: Soon we hoped. It smelled really bad.

Host: Did you try to make friends with it?

SS: I went up and tried to sniff it, but it totally ignored me. I put out a paw and it totally ignored me. I went a little closer. It was way too prickly to get close to.

KK: I looked from the distance. It was all rolled up and made funny noises. And it smelled …

Host: Yes, we understand. Hedgehogs smell bad. Did he sleep with you?

SS: They gave him a cage, so I didn’t have to worry about being attacked in the middle of the night.

KK: True. But it was a really nice cage. His exercise equipment was right there. Along with his food and his water.

SS: And he got really good food. Better kibble than us.

KK: And a heater.

Host: Did you try to make him feel at home?

KK (purring): Did you know they eat hedgehogs in some places?

Host: Moving on. Did he get in the way of cuddle time with your humans?

SS: Not really. Apparently hedgehogs like it warm, and the humans keep our house at cuddle temperature (as they like to call freezing). So he only came out at night.

KK: I don’t know why they bothered. All he did was sit in a ball and sound like he was going to explode. I don’t understand the appeal. You can’t cuddle it, you can’t play with it, and you can’t eat it. It doesn’t even look attractive all balled up.

Host: I imagine things have smoothed out a bit.

SS: Yes, he seems to have calmed down a little….

KK: And he almost ran away from home twice. I even had to rescue him one time. And they gave him a couple of baths. It was hilarious. The only thing funnier than a wet dog is a wet hedgehog. He tried to shake the water from his quills.

Host: Did I hear you correctly Kommando Kitty? You rescued him?

KK: Yeah. The idiot tried to go down some stairs. I stood guard over his lifeless little body until a human noticed. Turns out he wasn’t lifeless, he was sleeping.

Host: So things must be a little better.

SS: I watch from my cat tree. He appears to have bonded with the male human – my male human – rather than the female human – her human (motions at Kommando Kitty). He even ate out of my human’s hand. See if I ever eat out of his hand. (tail flap)

KK: Horatio does ignore my human now. Pretty good trick of hers – buy him worms and let the male human feed him. I still stay close to keep an eye on him, though.

Host: The three of you are living in harmony now?

SS: You could say that.

KK: Yeah. We don’t look up hedgehog recipes on the computer anymore.

Host: Well, I guess that wraps us up for this edition of Cat Forum. Come by the next time for a discussion of Baths: Evil Incarnate?

3

Electrification in the 21st Century

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I may have shared this reference with you before. (I’m not sure how much of a reference it is since I can’t remember who wrote it). If you do remember it, you’ll agree with me that this is a much better place to use it. So please forget its previous location.

In the early 1920’s, Soviet Russia realized that in order to truly modernize the country, it would need electricity in more than the major cities. So they decided it was time to electrify the villages. Note to non-Russian Studies/History majors: Soviet Russia is what they called it before the leaders decided that “Soviet Union” was a much better name for them and the countries the Imperialists had overrun and they decided to keep.

Anyway, the officials were very proud of this program and would send representatives out to remind the people how much better off they were now than they had been under the Tsars. In one village, they approached an elderly lady and asked her how she liked the new lights. She was not happy. Before she had lights, she thought her home was clean. Now she could see into the corners and realized what a mess she had been living in and how much work she had to do the keep it clean.

So at best, electricity is a mixed blessing. I am writing this on Saturday morning as I sit here without any power. They left a message on the answering machine that it would be out from 10a – noon. I guess they chose a time that would be maximally inconvenient for all of us because GM has a facility on the power grid and they have more money than we do and are pretty much closed down on weekends.

You may recall that I’m not very technologically advanced. I’m sure it’s not an answering machine anymore. It’s on the land line. It’s certainly not advanced enough to be voice mail. It is a huge advancement over the ones we used to have with tape that ate half of the messages. Advanced in the sense of the 1990’s.

Luckily I got downstairs to hear the message at 9:57 because they did turn off the power at 10a sharp. And once the electricity was gone, so was the machine.

Of course, I can type this because my laptop has battery back-up. More productively, I could be spending my time reading or cleaning. Or getting the flower beds ready for winter. Or watching the clouds.

On the other hand, I can’t make the chocolate chips cookies that were on the agenda. Our router is electric, so I can’t access the Internet. I can’t email people. And I can’t call them because the names are on an email I can’t get to right now.

We’re on a well with an electric pump. That means no water in the house. Including the toilet. Probably the only time that I look back at the outhouse at my grandparents’ cottage with fondness is when we have no power.

The cell phones work. Until they need to be recharged. Same with the laptop, tablets, e-readers, and all the other toys. Obviously, the TV is not an option. We have an electric garage door opener. I have had no luck getting in the side door of the garage since we moved in years ago. Even if I could get in, I couldn’t get the car out.

We rarely lose our power here. It’s a good thing too. With the population density of our neighborhood, the power company usually slots our restoration somewhere between parking structures and cemeteries.

We lost our power last Saturday too. That one was unplanned. A major storm swept through the area on Thursday, and thousands of people were still waiting for their power. We were fine after the storm. Ours had no apparent cause. Except my husband had finally bought a new HDTV for football season.

It was in the evening, so it was getting dark. We used a bunch of candles. It was actually very nice and peaceful. As soon as the power came back the TV was on, my husband switching between multiple games. None of which were going the way he wanted.

It made me wonder – can the power be routed so the well works but the TV doesn’t?

3

The Further Adventures of Horatio Hedgehog

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You may recall Horatio, Lord Nelson Hedgehog, as a rather grumpy, anti-social ball of quills.

Well, it turns out that you reach the heart of a hedgehog the same way you reach the heart of a man: through his stomach.

With men you usually have a wide variety of options when it comes to feeding. Generally you can find something they like in the meat/fish/poultry galaxy. If that fails, chocolate chip cookies are likely a winner.

Not so much with hedgehogs. If you look through the Internet, you will see that hedgehogs like insects, vegetables and certain fruits (particularly grapes). However, you should not feed your hedgehog too many fruit/vegetable treats, because it will keep him from eating his regular food. (Back to men and chocolate chip cookies)

It wasn’t an issue with the first hedgehog, Jean Luc. He refused to eat anything except his cat food. (I wonder who figured out that dry cat food is good for hedgehogs. Probably somebody who couldn’t afford Purina Hedgehog Chow.)

On the other hand, Horatio has been willing to try anything. One time. Finally my husband decided to try him on wax worms. (Of course, who works in a store that sells wax worms and has to buy them?)

Jackpot! Horatio loves wax worms. He perks right up when we get him out of the cage and sits by my husband’s feet to get fed. My husband gives him five every night, pulling each out of the sawdust as Horatio finishes the previous one.

It’s pretty strange. After the fifth one, Horatio walks away. It looks like he can count. I’m sure there’s some trigger, but I can’t tell what it is. Maybe he could win a lot of money on America’s Got Talent. I’ve never seen the show; do you have to be human to get on?

Once he’s done, he takes a walk around the living room then finds somewhere to take a nap. (He’s sounding more and more human male as I think about it.)

Kommando Kitty is not really excited about this new turn of events. She makes sure he’s within her eyesight. It may be that she’s protecting her own food. I know the cats are aware he gets a better brand than they do. (If hedgehogs don’t get the proper type of cat food, their digestive emissions are horrible. Will avoid another reference to human males.)

We have gotten used to this new routine. Probably too comfortable with it. One night I went to get him out of his cage. It was open and the gloves were nowhere to be found. (Yes we still need gloves to get him out. Sleepy hedgehogs are not happy hedgehogs.)

I asked whether someone had already gotten him. Then we realized that no one remembered putting him away the night before.

Oh no! He had escaped. Some sentinel that cat had turned out to be. We do not leave food or anything of that ilk laying around, but if it’s made of paper you’d think it was a member of the family. We live in an old farmhouse, so there are plenty of places to explore too.

He can still be pretty ornery, so we figured if we got too close he’d huff at us. Turned over everything in the front room. No luck. Looked everywhere in the rest of the first floor rooms. Apparently hedgehogs can also vanish into thin air.

When Jean Luc escaped (I accused my husband of losing him), he came out after we turned the lights off and it got to be quiet. I was laying on the sofa waiting for him and all ended well.

Not having bonded that closely with this one, I went to bed. Since I had to get up at 2:30a for work, I figured I could catch him then. No such luck. I left a note for my daughter that he was still missing and to watch out for him.

When I got home, she had left a note. Apparently Kommando Kitty went back into guard mode and found Horatio. He was down on the landing by the bag of charcoal. My daughter got him and put him back in his cage.

None of us can figure out how he would get down the three steps. Apparently he must have fallen down the first one, turned into a ball to protect himself, then bounced down the other two.

He was fine from the adventure. In retrospect, it’s pretty funny. I’m guessing he didn’t see it that way. Do hedgehogs have a sense of humor?

Next up is a bath. If you stop hearing from me, arrest the hedgehog.

11

I Don’t Remember it Like That

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We dropped our daughter off at college last Sunday. I’d always heard that it would be like a flashback to my own college days. I guess you could call it that.

She is going to a much smaller place than I did. There was no mistaking where you were going at the University of Michigan. Or when you got there. Or the thousands of people around wherever you wanted to be.

This place is in a residential area not far from where I grew up. There is no real signage except on the freeway right below. The freeway that has been closed for construction for the summer and will be until November.

No problem, right? You grew up there. True enough. We found the school with no trouble. And a parking lot. Was it the right parking lot? It had to be – it was the only one near the dorm. Yep – one parking lot, one dorm. No rushing memories yet.

We went inside. While she registered, we sat on a sofa. There were a few other kids filling out paperwork. No pandemonium. No feeling of being lost in a crowd. Hmmmmm. I was channeling high school more than college.

But wait. Something did feel familiar. Ahhh – a large building in the late summer with no air conditioning. The strange mustiness of a building that has been unoccupied for several months and is now full of sweating people.

Paperwork done, we went to the third floor. Where she had to talk to another person. She got a checklist for the current room condition. Once she filled out the form, she could have her key. I just had to identify myself and get a key. One point for large bureaucracy.

We went down the hallway and found her room. The girl at the end of the hall said it was open. It was not. Luckily her roommate was on the other side of the closed door. As we waited at the door, I noticed the girls in the room across the hall watching us. Open doors, people watching. That’s familiar. A little creepy, but familiar.

The room looks a lot like the one I had. But smaller. Dorm rooms are not known for their spaciousness, but this was the smallest double I had seen at any school. I swear that the girls could lay on their beds, hold out their arms and touch each other. I thought private schools were supposed to be more luxurious than the public ones. I guess this is part of the reason hers isn’t particularly expensive.

The roommate did remind me of some of the girls I knew in the dorm. Very sweet. And very aware of the strategic advantages of being the first to the room. Her side of the room was totally decorated. She had two rugs which covered two-thirds of the room. (In her defense, I don’t think they make rugs for half a room that size.)

The closets are on her side of the room, next to each other. Next to her desk. She took the one that is closest to my daughter’s side. It’s more easily accessible. The sink is on my daughter’s side. She took all the jewelry hooks she needed.

Actually I understand all of that. Don’t appreciate it. But I understand. The girl has never shared space with a stranger before. She doesn’t realize that parents can turn feral in defense of their offspring.

But that wasn’t the strangest part. Trying to make conversation, I asked about pictures she had pinned up of a dog and a bunny. I knew the dog was her pet. What about the bunny? She said they owned a rabbit farm. Some rabbits were pets and some were for sale.

This one? He was for sale. You have a picture of a rabbit you ate? Yes. That’s strange. OK, he can be a pet. So you are a little sick putting up a picture of a meal-to-be or you think you can freak me out by telling me your family raises rabbits for sale. Either way, I’m glad I’m not your mother.

We finally brought the stuff up. In the hot, humid weather. They had handcarts, but most of the people didn’t bother to take them back down when they were done. So it was an obstacle course. Did I mention the hallways were also strangely narrow for a dorm?

Downstairs I held a door open for a couple of guys with a sofa. It was the second one they brought in. Some of the people in my dorm built lofts for their beds and used the room as social space. With the size of the rooms and the size of the sofas, I’m guessing these guys have a very intimate social circle.

Sweaty guys. Tired, frustrated parents. Embarrassed, nervous students. They were right. It was beginning to remind me of college.