repository for the occasional perambulatory rumination

it’s been so long, i hardly know where to start. though i’ve missed blogging regularly (go here if you want to know why), after a while it became almost a dread. what would i say? there’s so much that’s happened – how do i choose? i created this blog to help me distill, clarify, and commemorate each day. to help me cull through each day and decide what to keep and carry. but after over a month of saying nothing, all the things to say are overwhelming, so i shall just start.


perhaps not as eloquently as i wish, but hey . . .

we are in the new house now, sleeping in a real bed, on the floor no longer. once we move the things to their new, intended home, we will be able to park in the garage: a milestone for me. and tonight we hang pictures, another milestone that speaks to our being nested. there are still more boxes downstairs beg my attention (on tap for tomorrow), and my closest is still in need of a few tweaks. i am probably only days away from moving my space from the dining room table to my studio. hooray!

will send photos of the house soon, but for today, i thought i’d share snaps of some the wildlife that comes to visit regularly. (disclaimer: i am in the market for a new camera because i know – i just know – that the blurriness is not due to operator error. at least not always.)

as the cable guy wandered around in search of the easiest, quickest way for him to do what he needed to do, he rather nonchalantly asked, “if i tell you something, will you freak out?” “that depends,” i said, and when he said nothing more, i added, “okay. i won’t freak out.”

“there’s a bat in your house,” he said, jerking his head smartly to the right towards the ceiling behind the fans.

there was, in fact, attached to the ceiling in the hub, a little black spot that turned out to be a bat.


i called my termite guy who said he couldn’t do anything about bats, seeing as how they are protected. “protected?” i screeched in a pitch only slightly lower than the bat’s. “what about me and my new house – why aren’t WE protected?”

he then said he had a phone number he would give me, but offered that first i might want to try this: take a pair of panty hose, he said, and put a balled-up sock in the toe. then open a nearby door and position yourself between the bat and the door. start slinging that pantyhose around in a circle over your head. “bats can’t see,” he continued, ” but they can feel the air current and with any luck at all, he’ll fly right on out the door.”

“about that phone number,” i said.

rosemary, my new best friend, came straight out to the house, and in less time than it took us to pour our drinks in anticipation for The Big Removal Event, that bat (named leopold by my daughter) was off the ceiling and in the back of her truck.

epilogue: though my-new-best-friend-rosemary hauled leopold to a new location, we are not without bats, as we found out at 5:26 a.m. last thursday morning when awakened to the most blood-curling screeching you can imagine.

and right outside our bedroom door, too.

the closed bedroom door.


on several occasions, we’ve enjoyed a rafter of wild turkeys amble through. (a group of turkeys = rafter, though some might effectively argue that a group of turkeys = congress.)



oh, i know squirrels are cute – at least rocky the flying squirrel was cute. but when you set out birdfeeders only to have them overrun with squirrels, well, that’s when you realize that cuteness is in the eye of the beholder.


and these little freeloading trespassers are blatantly disrespectful, continuing to eat even when confronted with a camera or a welcomed, invited redbird.



every afternoon between 4 and 4:30, 2 deer arrive at our front door


where they contentedly feast on dandelions and blooms from our newly-planted azaleas.


eventually, the deer get wind of phoebe (who’s inside),


and inside phoebe gets wind of the deer.


i open the door, and out phoebe bolts, her herding instinct taking over as she chases the deer oh, about 35 steps away into the woods where they turn around and look at the short-legged corgi as if to scoff, “oh, really.”


but satisfied that she’s done what she was put here on earth to do, phoebe celebrates.


and takes huge pride in a job well done. again.


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3 Responses to “gives a whole new meaning to the phrase “we live in a zoo””

  1. Acey on April 7th, 2009 2:38 pm

    okay i have not finished reading this although i will after i compulsively make note of the fact that i am an amazon in many ways but … a BAT in the HOUSE? i would have freaked out so badly that the tremors from it would still be registering. Once there was a dead bat on the bathroom floor. I freaked out. We’re talkin’ FREAKED OUT. Then I freaked out a second time (this time with more anger and impatience than fear) when Tony admitted he’d seen it there but “left it alone since [he] didn’t know what it was.” He laughed and laughed while I screamed. Then took it outside when it became apparent I was not going to stop screaming until he did. All the while telling me I was being a terrible buddhist. so be it …

  2. Acey on April 7th, 2009 2:44 pm

    now i am back to say more calmly isn’t Phoebe a pistol. encountering news of bats in the plural right outside the bedroom door (closed or not) is FREAKING. me. out.

  3. jeanne, herself on April 7th, 2009 4:47 pm

    i’m with you on the reaction to bats, acey. hubbie keeps telling me that bats are our friends because they eat mosquitoes, to which i say “i’ll just spray on bug repellent.”

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