Turn Right, Now Left Here

Today's Dennis the Menace comic is so my life . . .


My son, seven-year-old Car Guy, comes by his nickname honestly. He is all-about-cars, all the time. If he isn't arranging his cars, he is polishing them. If he isn't playing with cars, he may be reading a BMW Roundel magazine. When he was five years old, my little guy's favorite video featured an hour-long tour of a BMW factory. He also once amazed a babysitter by regaling her with the names of the German cities which contained BMW factories.

Car Guy comes by his car obsession honestly, though. My father is a car nut, too, and ignited his grandson's interest in vehicles. When Car Guy was two, he and my dad picked up a pack of Matchbox cars on the way to the Outer Banks. By the conclusion of our vacation, my two-year-old could properly pronounce and tell you the name of each sports car.

With his interest in cars, it should not surprise me that Car Guy is also a whiz with directions. For several years, he has been able to tell me how to get around town. At first it was cute and endearing, but sometimes this habit is just downright annoying. I would frequently prefer to chill out and listen to the radio, not have to actively tune out the directions of my seven-year-old backseat driver. He also does not confine himself to directions, frequently including instructions of when and how I should pull out in the road or turn. These directions also accompany his tendency to loudly identify most of the cars we see on the road.

Aaaahhh. . . . Car Guy's vehicular habits are endearing, but what should I expect from a child who loves to take field trips to car dealerships????

One Time When I Caught a Raccoon on my Porch

About 7:30 this morning while I was still snuggled in bed with my head under the pillows and covers, my husband awakened me with, "You've got to come downstairs to see what is in the trap!"

As I blearily opened one eye, Patrick continued to slightly yell, "It's a raccoon. There's a raccoon on the porch." Upon hearing his revelation, I immediately flashed back to inadvertently catching a opossum about six weeks ago when my stray-cat-catching-odyssey began. As previously chronicled, I have been trying off-and-on for about two months to round up the stray cat family that resides in the woods around our house (For more info, check out http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/cat-wrangler.html and http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/cat-wrangler-part-2.html). I tried for about a week in June to round up the mother cat and kittens, but only managed to catch a opossum on my porch at that time.

At least with my opossum catch, Animal Control came and released the little critter. Yes, he was released right back into my yard. Apparently, the state of NC protects opossums and prohibits Animal Control from doing away with them. At least the opossum fiasco only left me with a stinky animal trap and some flashbacks of watching Beverly Hillbillies as a kid.

My morning raccoon incident was much less pleasant, however. After Patrick ventured onto the porch to take a picture of our "friendly," neighborhood raccoon, my husband settled in to read the newspaper and left me to deal with our nuisance since, as Patrick remarked trying to butter me up, "You've been doing such a great job handling the cat situation." (Yea, right- he just didn't want to have to call someone about having a very unhappy raccoon on his porch.) At this point, my husband and I quickly determined that neither one of us was brave or stupid enough to deal with the animal ourselves, and we would definitely require reinforcements.

As I trotted off to call Animal Control, I mumbled to myself, "Oh great, first a opossum, now a raccoon. The Animal Control guy is going to love me." Animal Control runs through our local police department, so I actually had to speak with the police receptionist first about my little issue. So I told her, "I need Animal Control to come out . . . I have a raccoon trapped on my front porch." The conversation veered crazily downhill at this point as the woman laughed at me and said, "I've never heard of anyone trapping a raccoon before." I beg to differ. We're in NC; I'm sure that someone else before me has accidentally trapped a raccoon before. As I have learned the hard way, I can put out the trap, but I can't control what goes in it.

So my dear pal from Animal Control, the one who previously released my opossum, called to tell me that he could not release or deal with my opossum since he is only licensed to deal with dogs and cats, and since my trap is from the Humane Society, not Animal Control, the officer whom I support with my taxes can't help me anyway. At this point in the phone conversation, I'm quickly losing my confidence in "Animal" (IMHO, it should be "Dog and Cat") Control and becoming very irritated that my desire to trap, spay, and return the feral female cat to my yard as a mouser is hitting so many roadblocks. Of course, Animal Control would be happy to put down any dogs or cats that I manage to catch, but they must release any wild creatures that are caught in a trap.

My friendly Animal Control officer then provided the helpful suggestion that I find a friend who is a hunter to deal with my little raccoon friend. This, of course, does not help in the least since I am not close enough friends with any hunters to call them up and say, "Hey, would you please come over to my house to kill the raccoon on my porch?" and something tells me that sicing a hunter on the raccoon would also violate the humane animal treatment agreement I had to sign when borrowing the trap from the Humane Society.

Since hunter Plan A was a no-go, Animal Control gave me number of a guy who could probably help me out. As my family laughed at me, I then called someone else about "my" little raccoon issue. On the phone, my new buddy at All About Wildlife very clearly informed me that it is against NC law to trap and keep raccoons- like I meant to trap the raccoon. To remedy my breach of NC law, he could sell me a raccoon permit or, for a fee, he could come release the animal for me. After realizing that I am now going to have to pay someone to release the rodent right back into my own yard, I grumblingly tell my new wildlife guy, Jonathan, to come over in about an hour. It would have cost more if I wanted the raccoon removed from my property, so I settled for merely releasing him.

Here is the scene that greeted Jonathan when he arrived at my house about 9:20am:

One angry raccoon in a trap. One angry raccoon who has shredded the plastic food bowl that was in the trap. One angry raccoon who has shredded the plastic food bowl and pulled the towel that was previously on the trap into it. One angry raccoon who has shredded the plastic food bowl, pulled the towel into the trap, and pooped all over my porch. One angry raccoon who has shredded the plastic food bowl, pulled the towel into the trap, pooped all over my porch, and cut his leg and bled all over my porch, too. (I was channeling the Berenstains' Bears on Wheels there with the repetitive verse.)

Dear Jonathan (nice guy and now I know who to call if I ever have nuisance animals in or around my house) then set Mr. Raccoon free about 30 feet from my house, rid the trap of the bowl and towel pieces, collected his $40 check, and went on his way.

Fast forward about 10 minutes: I'm trying to enjoy my morning cup of hot tea and read the newspaper (I'm much happier when I start my day that way) when the doorbell rings. It was Edgar from Terminex, and I wished you could have seen his face. As I walked down the hall toward the glass front door, I saw Edgar glance at the porch floor where the trap had been, and as he did Edgar's eyes grew bigger and bigger. Between the raccoon blood and feces, it must have appeared as if I had recently performed a ritual sacrifice in my yard. To alleviate my termite guy's fear, I quickly informed Edgar about my morning adventure and, of course, he laughed at me, too. Then as my termite guy checked the crawl space, I proceeded to scrub the porch and trap with hot, soapy water- not fun, not fun at all.

After my misfires with the opossum and raccoon, I considered giving up my "hobby" as a feral cat trapper, but I decided to soldier on for fear of being over-run with stray felines if I don't succeed in my mission of having the mother cat spayed.

But, hey, if you ever need a guy to wrangle a raccoon, call me. I know someone who will handle it for a small fee.

Animal Farm

Recently, we have added a new pet to our family. We're now up to four animals:

Fozzy, one of our 14-year-old bichon frises,


Gonzo, our other 14-year-old bichon frise, whose health is rapidly declining unfortunately,


Nibbles, Car Guy's rabbit, who is now hopping around and playing again after battling a near-fatal bout with pasteurella and head tilt (more details at http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/04/bunny-nurse.html and http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/04/hanging-in-there.html),


and Snowball, a 12-week-old kitten who is our newest addition.


Let me preface Snowball's story by stating that I have never previously owned a cat and have never considered myself to be a "cat person." My family and I started watching Snowball about six weeks ago, though, when we discovered that she belonged to a stray mother cat we had been feeding. For the back story on Snowball's family, check out http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/cat-wrangler.html and http://musingsthoughtsandponderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/cat-wrangler-part-2.html.

Since I had not been successful in previously catching and aiding the stray cat family, I had just continued to feed them and let them be until I learned this week how quickly cats can reproduce. My guess was that we would be covered up in stray cats unless I quickly took some action. Meanwhile, Curly Girl and Car Guy enjoyed watching the five kittens hang out on our porch and especially took a shine to the white kitten which they dubbed "Snowball."


This past Wednesday night, our family inadvertently left our garage door open during a thunderstorm. By the time we discovered our error, the mother cat and her kittens had taken up residence in our garage. When Patrick and I went in the garage about 10pm that night, we saw five cats run out, but did not spy Snowball running away. After searching for him for a bit, Patrick and I closed the garage door and went to bed.

The next morning, however, I heard a kitten loudly meowing in our garage and found Snowball tiptoeing across the top of our garage door. Realizing that this was our chance to intercept one of the kittens, Patrick gently picked up the feline and placed it in a pet carrier.


I still wasn't sure about the cat thing, but told my children that we would check into what we needed to do to acclimate a feral cat into being a pet. First, we took Snowball to our local Humane Society so someone else could handle him before I stuck my hand in the carrier. After getting the all-clear and making a future appointment to have the cat neutered and receive his vaccinations, the children and I brought Snowball home. The kitten did have a bit of a respiratory illness and needed some antibiotics for ten days which meant that we had to keep Snowball inside for the duration of his meds.


For now, Snowball is ensconced in one of our bathrooms where he will stay for the next two weeks. Since I have no previous cat experience, I wasn't sure what to expect from a kitten, and a stray one at that. Snowball has been fabulous, though. He has used his litter box consistently and has not displayed any aggressive behavior. After voluntarily hanging out in his pet carrier or in a corner for about the first 24 hours, he now plays with toys, purrs when held, rubs your hand asking for more petting, and rolls over for tummy rubs. The kitten has even been cooperative when taking his twice-daily oral antibiotics.


When allowing Snowball in the house, I told Curly Girl and Car Guy that we would re-evaluate Snowball's status in 10 days. For some reason, I think the kitten will be staying, though.

Car Guy's Comments

Some of Car Guy's recent musings that I didn't want to forget:

Driving through the mountains of southwestern Virginia this weekend, seven-year-old Car Guy dreamily remarked, "Sometimes I feel so small in such a big world."



The other day Car Guy tried describing his sister by using adjectives starting with different letters of the alphabet. He didn't get very far, though, because Curly Girl and I couldn't stop laughing after Car Guy began with "A for academic, . . . . D for diplomatic." Too cute and what a vocabulary!


Reverting to his dress-in-a-different-costume-every-day phase, Car Guy spent this afternoon channeling Darth Vader. He was especially cute wearing his black cowboy boots with his Darth Vader costume, and Curly Girl loved it when her brother wore the costume to pick her up from a Youth Club meeting.

Biking the Virginia Creeper Trail

Our family spent a great day biking seventeen miles of the Virginia Creeper Trail. We began our day at Blue Blaze Bike Rentals in Damascus, VA where we rented two bikes (a mountain bike for Patrick and a tag-along for Car Guy. Curly Girl and I brought bikes with us.) After loading up all the gear, Blue Blaze shuttled us to the top of the trail at Whitetop Station.


Once we were situated on our bikes, we began the descent from Whitetop to Damascus. Along the way, the trail averages a four percent drop over seventeen miles so it made for a very relaxing ride.


The Creeper Trail used to be a railroad route and now traverses a number of bridges as it winds along and across a rocky river.



Even though the trail dips gently through forest most of the way, it also ventures through meadows and by Christmas tree farms.


The Virginia Creeper Trail also offers several rest stops such as the Green Cove Station, a former railroad station, and the Creeper Trail Cafe, a popular lunch spot in Taylor's Valley.


On our journey, we saw many other bikers, a few people riding horseback, and one or two hikers who ventured off the Appalachian Trail, which intersects the Creeper Trail at several points.
The entire Virginia Creeper Trail spans 34 miles from Whitetop Station to Abingdon. We just biked the top half from Whitetop Station to Damascus, but would like to bike the entire trail at the later date. To do so, I would need to train a bit to accustom myself to biking longer distances, though. I am currently suffering from a case of sore tushie and think that I would be in major pain if I tried to bike more than seventeen miles at a time.

After an enjoyable day of family mountain biking, we made it back to Damascus to return the bikes before driving home.

Things I Learned in Kentucky

1. The joy of serving others without desiring or expecting anything in return.

2. Learning how to use a drill and realizing the pleasure of pounding a nail into a board with very few strikes of a hammer

3. Two Chicks in Vinyl- "We lock it tight."


4. Getting to know people in our church whose paths usually do not cross

5. Dwight's experience as an Army tank commander explains his approach to driving the bus.

6. Overcoming a fear of ladders

7. The gratitude of the family we served

8. The teamwork of our group


9. Chigger bites

10. Sporadic cell phone reception on the calling rock and hiking to the mission dorm for wifi

11. Being in awe of people who choose to spend their lives serving the under-represented, uncared for, and unheard in society

12. You don't need a radio when Chuckles is around.


13. Feeling much more appreciative of my lifestyle and my blessings

14. A building trip is a great way for teens to learn life skills such as carpentry, measurement, etc.

15. The men's latrine and the females' excitement about being allowed to use the indoor restroom

16. Trying to understand the locals' tug-of-war between trying to leave such an impoverished area vs. staying near family and comfortable surroundings

17. The pleasure of not thinking about my appearance or minutiae of my life for a week

18. The thrill of seeing Curly Girl enjoying serving others


19. Getting to know the family we served


20. Trying to figure out how and when I can serve on another mission trip

Frakes, Kentucky- Final Day

Snapshot of Day 5 in Frakes:

We worked from about 9am to 9pm.

The gang working on the new room finished the walls, put on the roof, and covered it with tar paper.

The vinyl siding crew worked feverishly to complete the siding, but ran into some snags when the siding would not fit exactly into place. Just remember that buildings, especially trailers set on cinder blocks, settle over 35 years and hardly anything ended up being square. We also learned that measuring and cutting siding to fit small areas takes forever to do.

The family we helped was absolutely fabulous. They helped us work and even prepared a fabulous lunch for us on Friday.

Near the end of the week:

Our work team in front of the completed home:

The family in their new room. They plan to use the addition as a living room, and the current living room will become a dining room. Before the room was added, the trailer only had a small bar-like counter where the family could eat together.

Going to Frakes was a fabulous experience, and I look forward to working on another building team in the future!