Barking Mad

It's Like Living in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds", Only With Bugs!

I'm pretty sure that I hate summer.   The heat and humidity of the past week have left me sitting around in wet sheets with a high velocity fan blowing directly on me while I gulp rapidly melting ice water like there's no tomorrow.  In between gulps of water I slap myself.  I set my water down and slap myself again and then scratch my head, arms, legs and other various body parts uncontrollably.

No, this isn't some bizarre form of tics associated with a mid-life onset of Tourettes Syndrome.   Let me try and explain what has me feeling like I have insects crawling all over my body.

A couple of days ago Gareth was leaving for work and almost as soon as he walked out the door he walked right back down, set his laptop case down, looked at me with a pained expression on his face and said, "Whatever you do, don't go outside.  Just don't!" Of course, once he turned around the first thing I did was step outside and immediately regretted it.  I was barefoot and my entire foot was, in milliseconds coated with bugs.  I almost completely lost my sh!t on the front deck of our house.

I ran back into the house, slammed the door and stomped my feet around and flung my arms over my head in such a manner that Gareth wasn't sure if I was having a Grand Mal seizure or not.  My entire body felt like it was crawling with whatever the hell the bugs that had coated the entire house and the deck and then were trying to swarm me, were.  I didn't physically have anything on me but I couldn't shake feeling like I did.

For the last couple of months, we've been having horrible issues with something that swarms the house at night and unless we close all the windows and turn off the lights, they get into the house.  The two air conditioning units that the landlord recently installed have helped a little bit, but somehow these flying things (we have no-see-ums by the thousands and the other things we think are mayflies), still get in, despite closed doors and windows.  We wake up with areas nearest the toaster and night lights, and alarm clocks, and the blinking lights on the wireless server, covered in bugs.  They seem to be attracted to any little bit of light. I have woken up to the area on my nightstand nearest my alarm clock literally crawling with hundreds of these bugs.

Have I mentioned I don't do well around insects?  OF ANY KIND! Yeah, well I don't.

So back on this morning from a few days ago, Gareth grabbed one of the cameras and started taking pictures of the exterior walls of our house which were coated with these bugs.

 

 

   

 

We're not altogether sure these are mayflies.  Frankly, I don't care what they are, I just wish they'd go away!  People keep telling us they'll leave soon, but we've been dealing with this since early May and after coming home from the grocery store late last night to discover two bats just hanging out on the screen door, I'm afraid to hope they'll leave soon.  Bats feed on insects and as the house was covered with them again last night,  I'm now wondering if we're going to be laying in bed as swarms of hungry bats pelt the house looking for some fast food?  I'm not down with the bats either.  I know for a fact that the two who were chillin' on the front doors were looking at my hair like it would be a great place to nest.  Hey...don't judge.  The humidity is a pain in the ass and it makes my hair do odd unusual things.

The other reason the insects (we're now dealing with wasps too...inside the house!), and now the bats are driving me completely well, batty, is the fact that the cats are going crazy.  If we leave the doors open anywhere near dusk, the damned fur beasties launch themselves into the screens...

 

One of these days the screens on the outer doors are no longer going to stop a 20lb cat and I'm going to go ahead and let Geronimo  enjoy a bat/moth/mayfly kabob! 

 

Peenut Butter and Jellyfish

It's my sincere hope that this post doesn't turn any visitors to the beautiful shores of the Chesapeake Bay, off, of wanting to take a dip into the tepid waters of this gorgeous part of the country. 

Now, having said that, there ain't no way in hell I'm ever getting more than knee deep in the water the next time I go back.   As big as I am, I make an awfully tempting target for whatever might be floating around in the water.   Well, find me a floatie big enough, one in which I can tuck my legs into so that they aren't dangling in the water acting like so much bait (It's kinda like that same way I have to sleep at night - completely tucked in with no visible bits hanging over the edge of the bed or peering out from under the covers.  I just can't risk anything tempting the Under the Bed Monster. Just sayin'!), then I might be persuaded.  And I reckon if you ply me with enough booze beforehand, I probably won't care.

That was not the case last weekend down at BlogFest for Megawatt.  Number 1, she's underage and Number 2, she's young and will do just about anything once which includes tempting fate.  Keep in mind though, we're from Maine.  Jellyfish don't much enjoy our arctic waters.  If we can survive taking a dip in the ocean (I reckon it's usually warm enough by the last week in August.), 'round these parts; jellyfish are the least of our concerns.  We're more likely to encounter a wayward lobster than we are anything remotely poisonous.  Of course, now that I've said that, someone is going to come along and leave me a comment about all the nasties that lurk in our local waters.  Just don't.  OK?  I have enough phobias and issues as it is.  Just let me live in my blissful little bubble of ignorance.

We had been warned that chances were about 50/50 if we were going to be lollygagging about in the water down there, that we'd get stung by one of those suckers.  So of course, being the Nervous Nancy that I am, when Foolery nudged me out of my comfy beach chair and told me we were getting in the water, I tried to make excuses.  Alas, it didn't work with Foolery.  I was going into the water.  Period.

So I went in as far as my thighs and then stepped on something and that was the end of my excursion into the water.  I told you, I am a Nervous Nancy.  All someone had to do was merely whisper "jellyfish" and little else would have been on my mind.

Megawatt on the other hand...? Yeah, not a care in the world!

click to enlarge all images

She happily bobbed away on her floatie for the longest time and then when she got bored with that she waded out the farthest of anyone in our group.  I was rapidly succumbing to the warmth of the sun, something we haven't seen much of here in Maine, and the alcohol, so I was, to say the least, pretty hammered by that point.  For someone who rarely drinks, it really doesn't take me much to begin with.  I know that I was "live tweeting" the experience and I'll apologize now for the pictures that were sent along with some of those tweets.  Good Lord, my arms are white enough to blind an albino!

After a while, Megawatt ambled back up to the shore with 3 swim noodles she'd "rescued" from the Chesapeake Bay.  OK so maybe we were egging her on a bit.   They weren't our noodles, but they were out there and we dared her.  Of course she couldn't resist a dare. 

So far so good.  No one's been stung by this point. 

A while later as the tide starts to come back in Megawatt decides to go back into the water.

*cue the music from Jaws*

Not 5 minutes later she's sprinting out of the water, running for the condiment table where the fixins' were being set out for burgers and dogs and she's yelling, "Oh hey, I've been stung, I need some pickle juice!"  Someone had mentioned earlier to us that pickle juice helped take the sting out, should we end up getting stung by a jellyfish.

Dammit dammit dammit I just knew this was going to happen!  Megawatt comes running back down the hill, legs shaking, face red, and in obvious pain.  Noe Noe Girl is the first on the scene and sits her back down along the shore and starts rubbing sand on her legs.  Megawatt's legs are shaking violently and it looks like she's been whipped with an electrical cord. Country Girl Kate and Meg were standing nearby and helping out as well when Noe Noe Girl turns to me and says that she needs me to...are ya'll ready for this?

She needs me to pee.

Pardon me?  You need me to do what?  I don't think I can pee on my daughter.  Don't get me wrong, I'd take a bullet in my bum for this kid, walk through fire for her and give her my last breath.  But pee on her?  Nuh uh...it's not gonna happen. 

Meg grabs a cup and tells me I can pee in the cup.  Noe Noe Girl says that would work but to just be quick about it.

I'd sobered up by this point and truth be told, had to pee wicked-bad.  But just where the hell was I going to pee, with no loo in sight, and surrounded by a few dudes and lots of women?  Oiy vey!

Long story short, Meg provided a make-shift loo (a large blanket which I hid my ginormous squatted ass behind), and after having to be my "cheeleader" of sorts, I finally managed to (as someone who shall remain nameless later said), "make some magic happen."  What can I say, I had performance anxiety.  To any of the residents of the homes which were behind me... I am so very sorry you had to see that.  Seriously.  Just know that I was doing what any other mother would have done. 

Cup in hand we rushed over to where Noe Noe Girl and Megawatt were and handed it to her.  Holding an almost full cup of urine didn't phase Noe Noe Girl one little bit.  I can't say the same for Megawatt...

I can't blame Megawatt one little bit.  I might have been hurling my guts out if someone were rubbing pee all over me.  Although I sure as hell hope I never have to find out, first hand.

Once it was all said and done, "the cure" seemed to do the trick.  She had some residual pain, redness and swelling, but she was no worse for the wear.   At one point, Megawatt turned around and said to me, "Yo mom, it's cool, I'm in the Air Force now.  I can take it!"   That's my girl.

Moral of the story?  If you are going to be romping around in jellyfish-infested waters, make sure to take your mama with you and be sure she's good and liquored up because you never know when you might need her to accept the call of duty!

A Rat, Some Cats, and a Keurig...Two of Which Need New Homes, Can You Guess Which Two?

Once upon a time in a little northeastern New England state there lived an obstreperous 19 year old named Megawatt.  She lived with her mother, step-father, a tiny innocent little sister and four cats.  They all lived quite happily until one day Megawatt did the unthinkable and brought home something with a tail.  Not just any tail mind you.  

Had it been a nice fluffy tail attached to a purrfect little kitty cat, her mother might not have had a heartastroke. 

Had it been a furry, huge tail attached to behemoth of a Newfie, her mother might not now be drooling all over herself and muttering, "Get it off me, please just get it off me!"

Had it been a smooth velvety tail attached to the latest Gund stuffed animal, her mother might not now need Xanax by the bucketfull and be humming the tune, "Ben."

Warning, this video borders on eRATica!  

Did you watch the video and get a tiny taste of what I'm talking about?  No?  Here then, let me help you out with a little visual aid!

I walked into the front room, plopped down on the sofa and before me, on my lovely coffee table, just to the left of my magazine from Cape Cod, is a tail...a tail belonging to an evil denizen of HELL!

 

What was that I heard from way back in the peanut gallery?  "Oh what a cute little mouse tail!"

Have you lost your bloody mind?  That's not a mouse tail!  That tail belongs to nothing that could even remotely be called "cute." 

That tail belongs to this...

 

Oh and for my luvlies out there that think I needed to turn the "red eye" detect on?  It was on.  The evil rat's eyes were actually that awful colour!  Do you need any other sign that this vermin belongs in hell?

It appears my oldest daughter has a death-wish of sorts.  You all remember her lovely little gift to me last summer don't you?  Here, scroll to the bottom of this post for a refresher.

Here we have the nasty little gutter dweller crawling on Megawatt, whilst I sat on the sofa with my knees curled under me, drooling on my camera...

 

That filthy, dirty creature looks like it's trying to find something to nurse on! EVIL!

With a smile on her face and a sinister wink of her eye, Megawatt told me that she'd even gotten a "toy" for her "Dumbo Rat" whom she had named, "Nifty."  Personally, I didn't find anything "nifty" about the rat, or the toy.  But alas m'dears, Geronimo and Godiva did!

Geronimo and Godiva think that Nifty is...well, pretty damned nifty!

 

 

Griffy decides to see what all the commotion is about...

 

Despite my better judgment, I had been standing there snapping away with the camera, (somehow, with the camera between me and the rat, I felt safer!) when Megawatt did the unthinkable.  She introduced Nifty to the Little Imp.  Before I could launch myself forward and throw my camera at Megawatt and the rat, this happened...

 

My freshly bathed, sweet smelling, innocent little 3 year old bent down and KISSED THAT EVIL RAT!  Oh yes she did!  I immediately washed her face and scrubbed her lips all the while the Little Imp is asking me if she can sleep with Nifty.

Once I'd washed down two baby aspirin with a huge Coke, and given Megawatt a look that would have sent the saltiest of sailors running for their lives; the hubby and I put the Little Imp down for the night.  After she was tucked into her nice comfy bed with admonitions that there would be no pet rats for her, or anyone here at the asylum (Yes, I do know that rats and asylums tend to go hand in hand, but alas, that's only where Bela Lugosi and Bram Stoker are concerned!), I went into my bedroom and started plotting my oldest daughter's demise.

If you happen to see a milk carton with Megawatt's likeness on it, just keep on walkin' by! 

I'll be here at home, safe in the knowledge that four cats I know are enjoying a nice appetizer of rat tartare.

________________________

I thought about combining my kick-ass Keurig (the Platinum Brewing System with a 3-month supply of K-cups and a $50 VISA gift card) giveaway with a rat giveaway, but I love you, my darling readers, far too much to put you through that.  Be sure and come back tomorrow afternoon for details on how you can enter to win this awesome coffee maker.

Until then, I'm going to load up the shotgun (or perhaps I should load the Bazooka...I want to make sure I kill the rat should it get into our bedroom.), take another Xanax and try not to have nightmares of rats...

Knock knock...Anyone Home?

I'm here. Just barely though. I seem to be having huge internet issues coupled with a serious head-cold and hardcore kitchen remodeling, makes for a really dull blog and a total lack of enthusiasm for just about anything. I can't even upload any of the photos to the blog for some reason. I don't know if it's the wireless router or the road runner that's causing the problems but I'm at the end of my rope with it all.

The granite counters are finally in, and this was on the 2nd try, after the first attempt ended in the counters breaking because I wanted as few seams as possible. I learned once again that you can't always get what you want. Despite the addition of a 2nd seam in the brand new slabs they re-cut for this 2nd go round, we have discovered that our cabinets are not level...no where close to it in fact, so now we have to have someone come in and deal with that.

I will say this though, the counters are gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

The new appliances (including the new washer and dryer - I've been without a washer for two weeks now as the one we purchased when we bought the house less than two years ago, DIED! Being without a washing machine when you have a teenager and toddler in residence is cruel and inhumane as far as I'm concerned!) will be delivered tomorrow and the plumbing in the kitchen gets hooked back up today! I'm doing a little happy dance about the plumbing. Good thing you can't see it because I look pretty damn stupid in my pajamas, bobbing up and down like an idiot. I imagine the mental image alone is enough to scar you permanently.

With any luck this post will publish.  If not, please send wine or Xanax, or both. But of course if it doesn't publish, unless you're telepathic and able to pick up on my intense need for both, you won't know how dire my need is. So I guess I'm kinda screwed either way, eh?

Phoning It In...With Photos

Yesterday was a very traumatic day.  Very. 

I was almost killed by a spider.  Yes, a lowly, evil arachnid almost did me in.  I'm still far too traumatized to write about it, so I'm slapping some pictures we took with a little point and shoot we just bought (and I'm thinking I'm not too keen on it), and calling it good.  Not only that, I can't talk about the events of yesterday without peppering my sentences with f-bombs and every other expletive I can think of.  People...I almost bit the big one all because of a fucking stupid spider!

*Deep breath in....exhale*

OK, I think I've regained my composure enough to get on with things.

The hubby deemed this past Saturday as "Get mommy out of the house and reacquaint her with fresh air and semi-sunshine day."  He was even kind enough to make sure my "panic baggie" was loaded with Xanax and a sledge hammer. Yes I said sledge hammer.  Sometimes being around other humans becomes overwhelming and I start to go into "meltdown mode."  This is a sad but true fact.  Well OK, he didn't exactly pack a hammer, just the Xanax and some paper bags to breath into or barf into, whichever happened first.   I don't doubt though that given some of my freak-outs from other recent field trips he drags me on, screaming and kicking, out of the house, that he's wanted to pack a hammer, thereby putting me out of my misery and everyone else's too.

Saturday was pretty blustery with winds exceeding 40MPH along the coast.  Ideal for me because that meant nobody was out there.  Not so ideal for for the Little Imp and the hubby because it turned 47F temps into something that felt like 35F.  I was tempted to tell them to suck it up.   But I didn't.  Instead I snapped some pics and we got back into the car and I listened to the two of them act like they'd been exploring the arctic tundra in the dead of winter, rather than the Maine coastline on an early April afternoon.

"Yes Imp, I know these are old smelly lobster pots, but mommy really wants to take your picture by them.  No, I don't think that long dead claw is going to reach up and get you...Sit still and smile and try not to let the wind blow you over...OK?" 

"Yes, well it certainly did look like that claw was moving...Oh crap, get up quick, it's actually attached to a small crab....RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!!"

I was going for "artsy fartsy" and think I ended up with just "fartsy."




 
I wasn't able to fool with the ISO, light levels or anything else that I normally can when I have my big behemoth camera with me.   Oh well.

Do you think they're trying to tell me something?



I love blustery days along the coast.  So much colour and the water seems alive and almost vocal!

 

Again, a point and shoot isn't ideal for capturing just how volatile the water actually was.  Swells were hitting 6+ feet and the breaking waves along the rocks were really amazing.  A point and shoot is simply too slow to capture that kind of awesomeness.

 

Despite the obvious lack of jaw-dropping awesomeness in the above photos, I still think I might  have them printed out professionally and turn them into a triptiche for the office/guest room.  Yeah, I'm just vain enough to do something like that.

Finally, what's a post full of my photos without some lovely smiles courtesy of the Little Imp?