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The raccoons were at it again night before last. See this post for more. Rummaging around the yard, picking fruit off the trees, snacking on dogfood, bathing in the swimming pool. Pooping on the patio. The usual raccoon stuff.

If they are gonna dine at my place, the least they could do would be to leave their turds on the grass alongside all the unscooped Labrador poops.

I pride myself on being able to sleep through most anything. Earthquakes. Baby cries. That sound one makes as they are sprinting to the toilet with food poisoning. Police helicopters overhead. My own gas. Raccoons banging on the patio slider.

Years of practice have fine-tuned my tune-out ability, which also includes knowing which sound(s) need immediate attention. Such is the panicky tone when my relatively reasonable spouse is awakened by large rodents. (I know raccoons are not rodents at all, but at 3:30am, staring through the window into the darkness: anything not a dog is a rodent). She inflects my name in such a way as to convey that her internal fear monster is about to irrationally pummel her husband to goo if he doesn’t DO SOMETHING. NOW.

Our usual routine is to get to bed somewhere around 11:00pm, and I typically get up at 5ish. Six hours sleep is not too bad for me. But the masked critters’ 3:30 visits are reducing my sleep time by an hour and a half. Not good. Especially not good if papa is cutting out nookie just so he can get the extra half hour (an hour on a good night;) ) of needed rest.

Time for action, if there is going to be time for action.

The next morning, after she got to sleep in, I asked the lovely and accommodating Postmistress to give the local animal shelter a call, just to see if they would come out and deal with the unwanted guests. I figured they would just come out and trap the critters and haul them away somewhere.

The first guy she talks to at the City says, “Yep they are a problem lately. Most of ‘em carry rabies, too. If I was you I would trap them and release them somewhere else. Sorry, but the City can’t come out to do anything for ya. We are way too understaffed to be dealing with wild animals. Good luck.”

Rodents with rabies! She is on the warpath now.

Next call is to the ASPCA. They would be happy to come out and haul off the bandidtos, except that we live within the City limits. Different story if we lived in the neighboring town or in the county. “Well what would you suggest we do?” my wife asks. “Euthanize ‘em. Trap them and kill them. Don’t just drop those guys off at the city limits and make them someone else’s problem.” Says the nice animal guy at the ASPCA. ” And once they figure out that there is food somewhere: good luck keeping them away. They will keep coming back.”

“Kill ‘em” seemed a bit extreme to my gentle wife, so she calls the local animal people back and gets a different person this time. Her advice was just as precious as the “Kill ‘em” guy’s was.  She was, shall we say delicately: earthy in her approach to uninvited masked guests.

“Leave those poor creatures alone! Don’t you know that you are living in their habitat?!” was the animal lady’s opening salvo.

My wife calmly replies, “Sure they are cute and all, but a raccoon ripped the face off of our friends’ small dog. I just don’t think I want to risk my dogs or children’s smooth complexion. Besides, they carry rabies and I saw what happened to Old Yeller “.

“Ma’am”. ” May I remind you that you are a guest in those raccoons’ environment?” You just need to learn to live with them. They won’t do you any harm if you will just stay out of their way. Try to remove those things that are attracting them to your yard.”

Well, that sounds reasonable, except for a few little details. “How about the pool parties they have most nights? Would it be best for them if we kept the jacuzzi heated, too?”

“Ma’am.” “You must cover your pool.” “It is as simple as that. Covering your pool will keep them away.”

“Riiiiiight . . . Mr. El Cheapo husband is going to invest several thousand dollars into raccoon-proofing our pool . . .”

“What about my vegetables and herbs? They seem to be attracted to those, too.”

“Ma’am.” “I SAID:” “Remove everything that might be drawing the raccoons into your yard and that includes fruits and vegetables. Make them inaccessible to the animals or remove them from your yard.”

“So I am to construct a mesh cage around most of the plants in my yard. How attractive to make my yard look like a prison. And that makes it so handy to pick my tomatoes as they ripen. Seriously, I can’t imagine that the expense of all this fencing could justify the savings of growing our own veggies. Does the animal shelter also sell Concertina wire?”

“Ma’am.” “Ma’am.” “You are not to do anything to relocate or harm those creatures or otherwise modify their behavior. If you will just take away any reason for them to visit your yard, eventually they will leave you alone.”

“You mentioned our fruit trees.”

“Ma’am.” “Of course you can’t have any fruit around your house. Many animals are drawn to ripening fruit. You must pick it all before it ripens. Then the raccoons won’t have reason to come near.”

“So let me get this straight . . . In order for me to deal naturally with this problem, I must: A) Keep our dogs locked inside:. B) Not let our kids play in the backyard: C) Buy an expensive pool cover:D) Enclose our edible plants in steel cages: E) Not allow our oranges, limes, avocados, peaches and blackberries to ripen into edible food. Is that what you are suggesting I do to keep this family of raccoons out of our yard?”

“Ma’am.” “This is no laughing matter.” “It is not as bad as you are trying to make it out to be. It is your responsibility to treat those innocent animals properly. You cannot trap them in cages. We will not accept wild animals here at the Shelter.”

“Does the Animal Shelter also rent out small bulldozers?”

“Ma’am.” “Of course we do not want you to destroy any plants! Just take the proper precautions and wild animals will not venture into your yard. It really is quite simple.” “Ma’am.”  ” And remember: the Animal Shelter does not accept wild animals. You must deal with this humanely.”

“Did I mention that the ASPCA guy said that we should euthanize them?”

“MA’AAAAAAAAAM.”  “You CANNOT DO such a thing!”  “Ma’am”. “If you will just do everything I have told you to do then the little raccoons will not bother you. They will have no reason to come into your yard. It really is very simple and there should be no reason to resort to harming them.”

“So your suggestion is to make them someone else’s problem, then.”

“Ma’am.” “That is not at all what I meant! These are natural creatures and we all need to remember that we are living within their environment. We need to work with them to modify their behavior so that we can all get along.”

“Soooo . . . Will you guarantee that, if we implement all the measures you suggested, we will never have raccoons in our yard?”

“Ma’am.” “Of course I cannot guarantee any such thing. These are wild animals we are talking about here. They are curious creatures, and it would be in their nature to want to explore everywhere that might have food. The backyards of humans is a likely place in their minds. Of course they will want to exercise their natural curiosity. Of course they will continue to forage for food.”

“Sounds to me like we just went in a big circle. You are telling me to expend great effort for a solution that, at best will transfer my problem to another family, and at worst not work at all.”

“I think I will tell my husband that you agree with the Kill ‘em guy over at the ASPCA. He will take care of it from there.”

“Ma’am.” “Aaaaarrrrgh.”  CLICK.

And the Shelter lady hung up.

Whew! Sorry it took me so long to get to my question. This was just tooooo juicy. And it really happened (basically) the way I recounted it.

So I am interested in YOUR opinion: How should I handle my little “situation”?

Do I go with the nuclear option or the earthy option? Or maybe there is a compromise?

I am interested to hear from you: I don’t care whether you have real experience with ‘coons or if you have never seen one before in your life. Just tell me what you think I should do to get my nights back.

Blessings

Technorati Tags: fun stuff, marriage, raising kids

I just read Dereck Semmler’s most recent article, “Men are Wimps…” at his blog The Man Page and instantly flashed back to a time early in our marriage when we actually caught someone robbing our house. Well, we didn’t catch him in the house. . . I had to give chase for a bit.  Let’s just say right off that my wife was thoroughly unimpressed.

On a Sunday afternoon, returning home from our final Lamaze class we pulled into the garage of our little 2-story condo. I didn’t remember leaving the door into the kitchen propped open. And funny how the shadow of a miniblind is playing on the wall, though the wind is not blowing at all. Curious. I don’t remember leaving my television set on the kitchen floor . . .

BAH- WHAAMMMMM ! ! !  Before the concept could gell in my mind, I simply reacted.

I flew out of the car, barely throwing it into Park as the realization engulfed me that someone  was in my house stealing my stuff. Questioning my own sanity, but being propelled uncontrollably ahead by Lord-knows-what and testosterone laced adrenaline I grabbed the first substantial looking thing I saw. A clothes iron.

Leaving our superhero suspended mid-stride for a moment, let me tell you everything that flashed in my mind at the very moment I picked up that iron: “OK this is good it’s heavy and could deflect bullets can’t find a butcher knife besides they’re all dull anyway  hope the neighbor guy is home I could use some backup call 911 ! this thing could work like a shield i could throw it at him and run God I am stupid banished to the couch forever  what do I do with him if I find him I’ll probably trip over the cord  why can’t I stop myself Our Father who art in heaven… he’s more afraid than I am HERE WE GOOOOoooo ! “

So I did it- I searched the house, room to room, holding the iron in front of me. (I didn’t even wet my pants, and yes I did check). I am soo thankful that my wife stayed outside for that spectacle. The video would have won the $10,000 prize for sure: Skinny macho guy holding a trembling iron at arm’s length and swinging it back and forth like you see the cops do when they sweep a room. I was so pumped up I can’t remember if I even said anything out loud.  It didn’t take me long to figure out that the would-be thief made a hasty escape by diving out the dining room window when he heard the garage door go up. This explains the miniblinds moving around when we pulled into the garage. He left broken glass and a little blood behind as a memento.

You would think someone in this situation would be relieved as soon as they figured out that the intruder was gone. You would think that a sane person would just thank God that nobody got hurt. You would think.

In the meantime, my very panicked and very 8 1/2 months pregnant wife was trying to convince the neighbor guy to “get over there and help my husband out”. Not a chance. This wimp just stood at the window and looked out. He offered to let her use the phone to call the police, though.

Coming down from my adrenaline high, I went back outside to find my wife. And was I thankful for that big belly, which was the only thing separating me from a real stressed-out-wife thrashing. I reassured her that everything was fine, and I could easily repair the window. Arm in arm, we walked into the scene of the crime to assess if anything was missing. The intruder had piled a bunch of our stuff in the garage with the intent of using our other car as the getaway vehicle. He was searching for the car keys when we startled him and he dove out the window.

You would think this would be the end of the affair: Just file a police report, get on with life, and adjust to sleeping on the couch. Remember what I said about sanity? Sanity had not fully returned to my feeble mind yet.

The thought that someone had violated our space was eating at me. At the same time I was contemplating the crime and wondering about the humanity of such a person. It dawned on me that he was going to steal our car, which meant that he likely didn’t drive to our house, which meant HE IS ON FOOT!. A hasty plan was formed in my mind and I did not wait for validation from my poor wife. I set out on a walkabout of the condo neighborhood sans iron.

Yes, you read me right. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had the audacity to believe I might actually see the culprit just wandering around the complex and that I would somehow be able to identify him. Stupid, I know. Pride makes men do the darndest things, and my pride had been pricked by this invasion of our privacy.

As it turns out I did find the guy and he was carrying someone else’s TV and VCR in his arms. (And I simplify the story here as it gets complex). He told me he couldn’t remember where his car was parked and wondered if I would hold his stuff while he looked for his car. He set the electronics down by a tree and I gave chase. The cops finally showed up by this point (hours after the crime) and witnessed our little chase scene. They caught up with him in a cruiser and arrested him. Physical evidence tied him to several burglaries and he got a 1 year sentence in county jail.

Derek, thanks for bringing back a memory I had suppressed so well. Good times.

Technorati Tags: fun stuff, Stupidity

Here is an idea for you last-minute Mother’s Day shoppers. Give her a bottle of coconut oil.

I know, I am hopelessly romantic. “Aw gee, honey, you shouldn’t have . . . an economy size jug of glass cleaner.” “Look kids, daddy got mommy vacuum cleaner bags this year. Doesn’t mommy loooooove daddy for such creativity?”

Let me just tell you that this stuff is HOT. If used outside the kitchen.

Oh yeah, I am gonna tell you how to cook with this stuff even if you can’t boil water. You are gonna apply the coconut oil directly to HER BODY. With your hands. Oh yeah.

First off- what to buy. At your local natural foods store (I got ours at Henry’s) you can find Virgin Expeller Pressed Coconut Oil. I think the World of Wally might have something similar, too. I won’t take your time to describe the process of expeller pressing, except to say that I think it cuts down ALOT on the natural odor of the oil. The bottle is about the size of a bottle of canned peaches and cost about 9 bucks. It will last a really long time.

What to do with it: You are going to give your wife a full body massage. For at least an hour. C’mon stud, you can stand to have your hands all over for an hour can’t you? She is going to get a relaxing massage from toes to head.

A word of warning: This is for her. DO NOT expect a “happy ending” for yourself. I know that so much fleshly contact becomes hard for us guys after awhile, but you must prepare yourself ahead of time to not hope for conjugal contact. In fact, if you do this real well there is a good chance she will fall asleep. On the other hand, while I prepare you for no nookie, truth is that she probably will get really turned on so be ready to go with that flow, too.

Set the stage: Candles, flower petals in the bath water, a sloppy card . . . I dunno what works for you guys. But for Pete’s sake don’t just say “Wanna backrub?”. Set the scene. Ask her into your massage parlor. Draw a nice bath (after cleaning the tub first. Come to think of it, my wife gets turned on when I just think to clean the tub). Use mood lighting. For sure, get the room temperature so it is comfortable for her to stay unclothed without getting chilled. Wear something that is lightweight and comfortable for you (and sexy for her): You will likely break a sweat if you are doing this right. Music is nice. Pick up your nasty underwear from the bedside. Make sure the room is clean. Clutter-free leads to stress-free.

The massage table: Will probably be your bed. If she is most comfortable on the floor, go there. Lay down a couple of beach towels in case you get a little of the coconut oil where you shouldn’t. Just make sure that wherever you put her, you have comfortable access to all of her. You don’t want to aggravate your back by getting yourself all contorted.

Get started: Get her unclothed and laying facedown on the table. Start with her feet (This is why we began with a bath . . .). Now, the coconut oil is a funny substance. It is semi-solid when room temperature is below 72 degrees, but it becomes liquid above that. Also, a little goes a long way. One of the beauties of coconut oil is that it seems to stay slippery for a long time.

Another thing- Once you get started you must maintain physical contact with her at all times. No potty breaks for you. Always have at least one hand on her. I don’t know the shrinkology to back this up, but trust me. This means that you must prepare everything in advance and have it ready at your fingertips. Think through this before you start.

Work a little into your hands then get going with her toes. Take your time now, she is loving getting attention to her tootsies. After several minutes of this, work your way to her heels. Probably a firmer pressure is going to feel best. Do not tickle her. Do you hear me? NO TICKLING. This is a buzzkill. If done well, this massage experience will actually grow some confidence between you two-or you can tickle her and ruin it for her.

When you get to the calves of her legs you will likely have to concentrate on one leg at a time. Reapply oil as needed- but just enough to keep things slightly slick. Too much oil will likely feel icky to her. Press firmly and work towards her head. You can try varying pressure and maybe even dragging your fingertips or nails over her skin. Just stay real tuned in to her reactions. Ask her if whatever you are doing is feeling okay occasionally. You might even be able to get into a position that allows you to press her foot against your chest, allowing you to massage the front of her legs.

Now as you get to her thighs keep working the deep tissue massage. To get the inside of her thighs you will need to open her legs a bit. This is a great time to remind her that even if you touch her there accidentally, it is just a part of the full body experience. Don’t sexualize this. Don’t forget to work the outside of her legs, also.

By now, 10 or 15 minutes should have passed. Have a sip of the water you thought to set close by, but don’t stop rubbing with the other hand.

The Hiney- Work it good. Very firm pressure is good. These are large, strong muscles that can take a squeezing. Don’t forget to keep up a dialog about how beautiful she is and how much you are enjoying this. Work down the crack a bit, but do not cross her personal boundaries. If you aren’t sure if she would like you to touch her in this sensitive area, then I would say don’t go there. On the other hand, she just took a bath and everything is clean . . . Just pay attention to her body language is all I’m saying. She probably won’t feel too experimental this go-around, but if you do this full body massage right- well, there is always next time.

Work your way slowly up the back, paying lots of attention to her lower back and moving often back to her butt. Many women experience lower back pain and this attention to the small of her back will work wonders for her. Lots of tension is stored in the back, from the shoulders to the glutes. A good back massage can literally release stress from her life.

You can alternate between light and firm pressure, but don’t be schitzo about it. Do firm strokes over and over long enough to establish a rhythm, then switch to a light touch. Straddle her now, if you need to (just keep you pants on, please). Use your hands to make circles on her skin, pushing the tension from the spine out towards her sides. Don’t do the karate chop thing here, unless she specifically requests it.

Ask her how she is doing. You should keep up a bit of conversation during the massage, just to help you keep verbally connected. But don’t make small-talk. All conversation should be geared toward her. Allow for many quiet times so that she can stay in the moment.

By the time you get to her shoulders, about 40 minutes should have elapsed. Work the tension out of her shoulders for five minutes or so, always keeping just a thin film of coconut oil on her skin.

Now, as you get to her head, you will need to get most of the coconut oil off of your hands because you are going to spend about 10 minutes massaging her scalp. Again, vary light fingertip pressure with firmer massaging. Work around to her forehead, avoiding getting the oil on her face.

As you can see, you are nearly an hour into this and you have not even gotten to the front side. I know, I know- this is where the goodies are. Unfortunately, she probably doesn’t store any stress in her breasts. Not to say that your massage can’t continue on to the front . . . Ask her if she would like to turn over and get some front side massage. Go for it as long as she wants.

The wrap-up: You have given her a petty inexpensive gift that she will remember for a long time, and will hopefully ask for again. Thank her for allowing you to spend so much time touching her. Tell her how beautiful she is. Give her a clean towel to wipe off any excess coconut oil, or lead her to the shower. If the massage ended with an offer of conjugation, by all means: go for it! But please, (and I know by this time you will very excited and might become, shall we say: quick) remember this is FOR HER. Make sure she gets a happy ending before you do.

A couple of words about coconut oil: For most people it doesn’t irritate those sensitive tissues, In fact it can be a great, inexpensive substitute for K-Y or other lubricants. Don’t assume, though. Try it out slowly before you go all-in.

Coconut oil should be non-staining of your sheets. But lay down towels just in case.

The very subtle aroma is quite nice.

It is inexpensive.

It is a great moisturizer.

It is condom-safe.

It tastes pretty good. ‘Nuff said here?

Blessings

Technorati Tags: fun stuff, marriage

Get your mind out of the gutter right now! Not that kind of foreplay- this kind of foreplay:

I have found an unusual domestic use for those dry-erase markers: you know the ones that can be used on special white boards and are supposed to be erasable? These things work great on glass and mirror!

Generally I am not too good at leaving love notes for my postmistress, but this idea was a HIT! I wrote notes on the walls of our bathroom. Before leaving for work I plastered the bathroom mirrors in multicolored love notes: Words, drawings, symbols, you name it. I wore out some erasable markers for the sake of love.

Fortunately, I get up hours before she does, so I had ample time to do the deed. This was no small task, as we have about exactly approximately nearly 17 sqezillion square feet of mirror in just one bathroom. Really, this is a simple task that only requires you to write down your thoughts before you stand in front of the mirror at 0:darkthirty. (Nothing like getting writers block as you stare bleary eyed at yourself in reverse). Another reason to prepare some notes is so that there is no unintended white space. Running out of words early won’t earn any extra points later.

Of course, keep a little practicality in mind and leave a bit of clear space for her to actually see to get ready. Maybe draw a fancy picture frame for her to look into. Also, if you have kids who can read and you cannot lock the door, I would suggest you keep your comments <PG-13. Putting her in the position of having to explain a kitty type comment to your little “inquiring minds” is a definite mood killer.

A few general suggestions about what to write:

• Compliment her character. Integrity, peacefulness, honesty, friendliness…
• Mention a favorite physical feature or two.
• Give thanks for her. What she means to you, her acts of service, her selflessness.
• Mention what a good friend she is to you and others.
• Tell her you hope our kids are just like her.
• Say what you see when you look at her.
• Tell her how long you want to stay married to her.
• Remind her of your favorite vacation of something you are planning to do together in the near future.
• DO NOT ask for sex. Let that be her idea. Hopefully.

Sound simple? It is: all you have to do is prepare ahead of time. And maybe remember to take a picture of your handiwork.

WARNING: Your mileage may vary. Could lead to that foreplay. Not available in all states. Consult your physician before embarking on any such program. Results not typical. Have fun!

Technorati Tags: communication, fun stuff, marriage