Before you cut...

We have decided to put in a new fence. More to the point, we have decided to hire somebody to put in our new fence. I know what you are thinking. “Why? you know how to build things…how to layout/design a fence. Why not just do it yourself. For goodness sake, you have a degree in carpentry and another degree in design. How hard can it be?”

Well – you have valid thoughts. But guess what – your thoughts don’t mean shit to me. My job is to design and build things. That means when I get home and have to do it, it is not a “relaxing way to escape from work.” Rather it is just like work – except that Amy is not one of my employees – so we don’t really work well together. We do all right – but I generally get cranky because that’s what I do.

Anyhoo, Blair came to our house today to remove our old fence. Great – get rid of the old rotten red thing. The removal of said fence meant that I could now get the chainsaw out and remove the GIGANTIC bush in the back corner…as well as the little pine tree in the corner that is clearly on its last leg. When I say it – it sounds like a very easy after dinner type of job. I can repeat it a hundred times…it just seems like it shouldn’t take more than an hour. After all, I’m not using an ax, or a hand saw.

Well, as with any other “little” project we have attacked in this house, this one ending up sucking too. No matter how much planning we do, nothing seems to work well (now do you understand why I hired somebody to put in the fence?). OK – so the GIGANTIC bush was not so bad…if you ignore the poison ivy. The tree…well…the tree was not so good.

Some years ago our neighbor with the “shit for yard” (see RIP Rocky for more explanation) built a fence right next to the tree. Literally right next to it – as in one of the pickets was not even screwed in; rather it was just wedged between the tree and the 2x4 support. Anyway, the screws were on “my” side of the fence, so it seemed like a good idea to remove a few pickets in order to have better cutting access and to prevent breaking any pickets on their fence. I have ZERO desire to upset these people, let alone talk to them. So, if removing a bit of fence – just to put it back up – means that they will never know I was there, it is totally worth it.

In case you can’t see it coming, this is where things start going wrong. I was able to pull out five pickets around the tree. With the pickets removed I was “graced” with a few of all the crap in their yard. Little did I know that soon I would be in their yard…holding up a HUGE FUCKING PINE TREE and their fence. But let us not get ahead of ourselves.

At this point Amy’s dad is using the chain saw and I am pulling on a rope that I have attached to the tree in hopes of pulling the tree towards my yard and away from the power lines…and their fence. As you know, the rope trick did not work. It might have started to work – but one man and a rope only has so much control over 2 tons of falling pine. In a matter of seconds the tree was neatly captured on their fence…and pushing it over quickly. I am paying to get my fence replaced, not theirs. And – their fence is oddly close to their pool – and I had no desire to explain that…let alone clean out their pool (who knows what is even in it – sulfuric acid?).

In a flash I was through the hole in the fence, using every bit of strength I had to support the tree/fence. Amy’s father is desperately trying to get the chain saw “unstuck” from the tree that is no resting on the blade. Did I mention that is dark? The sun set roughly 45 minutes ago. Amy and her mother have no decided that we need more help. They went running to the neighbors in hopes of finding another saw, more hands – maybe a time machine? Any would have helped at this point.

Roughly an eternity later Amy returned with our neighbor and a chain saw. I was able to cut some of the precarious branches that were catching on the fence. Eventually we were able to de-lodge the tree and roll it safely into our yard. We did also manage to find spare pickets hidden amongst the crap in the neighbor’s yard. I casually grabbed a few and quickly repaired their fence.

My hands are still covered in sap. My leg has a mysterious (and bloody) gouge in it, but the tree is down. The fence is still up – and there is no reason the neighbor should notice anything wrong with it. All in all, things worked out (as they always seem to do) – sadly they did not work out until MANY hours after we started. I assume we will get some complaints from other neighbors about the hours in which we had a chainsaw going. Oh well. At least nobody had to go to the emergency room.

What products do you buy?

Remember the days before DRV or TiVo? You might record your favorite shows with a VCR – or (even worse) – you might have to actually be home when they are on. How medieval. But now you just set your handy little device at the beginning of the season and you are done. Amazing. What a fantastic world we live in. I rarely watch live TV anymore…it annoys me.

It annoys me because (mostly anyway) of the commercials. You know, those product pushing things that happen for 3-4 minutes after 8 minutes of show (LOST – I’m talking to you). Ah yes, commercials, I see that it is ringing a bell.

You see, advertisers buy time in popular shows in the hopes that lots of people will see their product and then a few might go buy it. It used to be that the Super Bowl was just as famous for the commercials as it was for the football game. For some people it is/was probably more about the commercials. The past couple of years the commercials have not been that good – which is a little sad (although this year I was much more interested in the game – GO COLTS!).

Anyway, this was intended to be a blog about a commercial I just saw…and a few of my other favorites. I see them in the mornings – I watch the Today Show in my room without DVR (so no fast forwarding). And when I say “favorites” there are so many classifications – humor, visual interest…and probably some other stuff. At the end of a quality commercial I often say, “I’d buy that” or “if I didn’t already have insurance…” – this is just a little acknowledgement for all the hard work that went into the 30 second art.

My number one commercial (right now): The scene opens with an Eric Carl-esque (The Very Hungry Caterpillar) bug crawling on some leaves. It is a fascinating 2D art look – almost like flat papier-mâché with water color on top. The pictures take us through a garden, around an apple tree with a snake and eventually to a lake with some fish. The scene ends with a dinosaur foot stepping in the lake, narrowly missing a fish. In case you haven’t seen, the commercial is for the Creation Museum in Kentucky. Yes, the garden we just moved through was the Garden of Eden – you know…that place where Adam and Eve hung out with dinosaurs. I will refrain from giving all my thoughts on evolution vs. creation in this blog…

So why do I love that commercial so much? Well, at first I just love the artistry of it. It really is visually stimulating – inspiring, even. There is also a certain level of humor in it, at least for me. I like to think of the creative team that came up with it. For some reason they are all sitting in a room and thinking about how serious this is, and truly believing it. That’s funny to me.

Another good right now is for Stanley Steamer Carpet Cleaners. It is a young boy saying “Mom, check out Toby’s new trick” then we flash to a shot of Toby (a large yellow lab) dragging his but across the carpet. This is a hilarious site, especially for all dog owners who have seen this same sight in person.

Geico has had a fairly good run recently. 5 years ago they had an amazing commercial involving a stuffed dear and a jogger. If that doesn’t ring a bell, I’m sorry. You missed a fantastic commercial. But recently they have been doing the caveman thing – which is now being turned into a (probably bad) sitcom. I still snicker at the commercials, though.

Finally, I will end this with a great series of commercials; the “Sportscenter” commercials on ESPN. Wow. These use a slew of sports super stars and put them in funny cubicle/office situations with the various anchors of Sprortscenter. It can be anything from the Manning family having a scuffle to Lebron wondering where his chair went. These are all just comic genius. They should put them all on a DVD. I cannot believe I just asked for a DVD full of commercials.

I could go on and on, but I won’t. I’ll just leave you with this question…what’s your favorite commercial? And I should specify – that airs in this country. Because we all know that other countries are much racier and much funnier with their advertising. Or...do you even watch commercials, or do you just fast forward through them like I try to do?

The infinite wisdom of my 4 year old dog...

Cayuga will turn four in a couple of days. However, according to his “real age” test that we did online he is nearly 17 (6 years younger than average – which is a good thing). In his four years Cayuga has done many things. Some good, some bad – but all were learning experiences – for both of us. Here is the list, from Cay’s perspective (in no particular order) -

If it is nice outside, why are we inside?

I don’t care how many beds, pillows or blankets you buy me, your bed and your pillow are the most comfortable, so scoot over.

There is nothing better than a cookie.

Screen doors are silly contraptions – if I can see through it, and hear through it, I should be able to walk through it.

It seems like you might have forgotten about me, so I am just going to stand under you and bark, loudly.

Dishwashers are scary and it’s OK to hide behind the toilet while they are running.

Some days it is OK to do nothing but lay on the couch.

If it hits the floor it is fair game.

If it is on the edge of the table it is fair game.

If I can get remotely close to it, it is fair game.

Grandmothers were invented to spoil grandpuppies.

…if by saying “trashcan” you mean “feast”…

Dogs sniff other dog’s butts, that’s what we do, deal with it.

Did I mention, if it is nice outside, why are we inside?

I don’t care how many times you say it – I’m going to poop in the neighbor’s yard and make you pick it up with that baggie.

I know it looks like I’m out of pee, but I am still going to stop at every mailbox on the way home.

I’m only tough when the other dog is behind a fence, a window or on a leash. When they get close I actually want you to pick me up and protect me.

I’m a cute dog – and I attract cute girls.

If you are not doing anything with those hands, why don’t you rub my face or belly?

I see that you are busy with your hands, why don’t you rub my face or belly?

If chocolate is so bad for me, why does it taste so good – and why do you keep so much of it around the house?

Why do you fold the laundry if you know that I am just going to play in it?

By the way, dirty socks are way tastier than clean ones.

It’s much more fun to get up and play at 4 am than it is to sleep through the night.

Hey, there’s somebody here! Hey, there’s somebody here! Hey, there’s somebody here! Oops…false alarm.

Is it time to eat, yet? How come your food looks better? Can I have just a bite?

I love you no matter what.

Is that a bunny? Let me out. Is that a bunny? Let me out. Is that a bunny.

So, those are the thoughts and wisdoms of a very VERY spoiled dog. Ruff life.

Morrissey = messiah

A lot has happened in the past few weeks, and as expected I have been delayed in talking about it. So – here I am. Early on Monday morning I feel like my head is clear enough (or am I just tired enough) that I can write about a few things.

First of all, Amy I went to a concert in Chicago last weekend. We saw Regina Spektor at the Riveria with my brother and his girlfriend. I wasn't quite sure what to expect from her concert. Obviously, I know her music – as everybody should. But what I didn't know was how she would be in a large public setting – in her videos and in interviews she always seems so shy and…well…almost introverted. Personally, I have no problem with that – I just didn't know how that was going to play in a large theatre.

Upon walking into the Riv we noticed just a piano, the piano bench and a chair. Um…OK. If you have listened to her latest album, Begin to Hope (which is what she is currently promoting) it is very clearly a "produced" album – with lots of instruments, etc. I didn't doubt that the songs would sound good only on the piano (as they were probably written), I just didn't expect it. "Fidelity" which gets a lot of air time just seems like it needs the rest of the music behind it.

After suffering through "Only Son" – the opening act that maybe wasn't so bad, but I am so old that I hate opening acts – Regina walked out. She looked shy, introverted and cute. She immediately walked to the microphone and started singing a capella – tapping the microphone with her finger to keep a beat. Eventually she moved to the piano and I was lost in her charm. She is shy…and all about the music. She doesn't really talk of try to build a relationship (at least a talking relationship) with the audience. That being said, when she is singing she is completely immersed in the music – and still she never takes herself too seriously. A few songs had obvious "bad" notes or missed notes on the piano. She usually laughed it off, or cussed about it to the delight of the audience. One song she even decided to start over after profusely apologizing. How cute is that?

So, she played piano, sang a capella, at one point played a guitar – then for "Hotel Song" she brought "Only Son" back out and he redeemed himself by acting as a human beat box while she sang. It was clear they were having a good time with it…as every time they looked at each other they both started to laugh. All in all it was a great concert. I don't think I would have liked hearing a band. It was much better with just her…better than the albums. Her stage presence works for her. The "shy" thing plays as very cute. So – I am keeping my eyes open for her next trip this way…I heard a rumor that she is actually coming to Indy. Oh – and the lighting sucked. Like – it was absolutely terrible.

On our way back home, Amy and I stopped to see my grandparents. My grandfather is in his 90's and just recently had a stroke. My grandmother is suffering from Alzheimer's or some other form of dementia. They were both great! My grandfather was excited to show us his scar from his recent surgery – and then he started complaining because the doctor told him not to play golf for a few weeks. I love resilient old people. It is comforting to see that they can still be healthy even if they are old.

So…what else has happened? Well, I have finished my first year as a college professor – and I am still standing, bichessss! I feel like I had a great year. My students are great; the people that I work with are great. I feel like I have support when I need it – I have a nice office – and I get summers off… I finished all of my grading early – which is a wonderful feeling. It sucked because I locked myself in my office for many hours on a BEAUTIFUL day – but it was so worth it just to be done. My final requirement of the year was to attend graduation this past Saturday. It was a bittersweet day. The speaker was terrible – but what can you do?

Last night Ron and I went to see Morrissey…again. I'm not sure how many times we have seen him now. But this was special…because he was playing in Indianapolis. What? Yes – I said Indianapolis. I know – weird, right? He played at the Murat. It wasn't quite sold out – or at least it wasn't full – which pisses me off, but what can you do? Moz said he hasn't been to Indiana for nearly 30 years when he was here working on a James Dean tribute. 30 years – begs the question if I am his illegitimate son…maybe?

So, last Thanksgiving, Ron and I saw this same tour when he made a random Chicago stop between Mexico and Iceland or something. But still, this show had this weird magic around it because it was here in Indy (and I am convinced he will never be back here). The show gets a 7 out of 10. Moz was his typical self indulgent, pompous and insecurely arrogant self (too many selfs?). It's nice to know that some things never change.

Unlike Regina, Moz acts like a (48 year old) rock star. And that's OK. He has earned it, and the audience will continue to give him what he wants, so more power to him. The crowd was a mix…the lady next to me was very drunk and in her mid 40's. There were a lot like her. The hot lady in front of us was in her 30's and wouldn't stop screaming…but she just kept screaming the same thing – and that got annoying. We saw the typical high school kids with their "Smiths" shirts on. We also saw a mom come in with her 6-ish year old daughter. I swear that K-Fed was there, too…or somebody that looked like him. The volume was too loud – and I hate that. The lighting was very good, much better than it was at the Aragon. The gigantic gong was still underutilized – and the guy on the horns was over utilized – but that just feeds into Morrissey being self indulgent – as does ending the encore early because he was having monitor issues.

I have never bought a t-shirt or any such paraphernalia from a Morrissey concert – or from any concert. Well – I broke down and bought a belt buckle. So – after 10 years of my beloved Campagnolo buckle I am switching to my slightly homo-erotic "Morrissey" belt buckle. Amy saw it and decided to ask me if I still like women. Never fear readers…I do still love the ladies. I don't love my messiah in "that" way – not that I would turn him down…anyway why do I call him a messiah? Well – he brings young and old together for a common goal. People faint when the touch him. He sits (happily) on his pedestal and looks at his followers. Some follow because they are sad and find comfort in his music – others see the humor in it. Some people just love him for his hair. Regardless, every show is an experience…different from any other concert I have ever been to. Rufus is the only one that comes close to comparing in terms of attitude, self-indulgence and general conceitedness, and I believe he has been dubbed "the gay messiah" – maybe Moz is "the celibate messiah."

I think that is all for now. 1^st official day of summer. I need a nap. I need a car wash. I need to find something interesting to write about.

Secret Squirrel?

Dear reader - sorry it is late - sorry it is not proofed. Please enjoy.

"What is your least favorite day of the week?"

I distinctly remember being asked that question by a classmate in 4^th grade. You see, at that time we were all reading the Garfield books. Garfield hated Monday – especially Monday the 13^th. At that time I didn't really understand why. As I aged I learned that he was referring to Monday being the day that most people didn't work. Even though he didn't work – his character (I think) was still speaking to workers that might be considered "stuck" in their jobs and thus dreading Monday.

In fourth grade I am fairly certain that I answered "Monday" because of Garfield.

If you asked me last week I am not sure what I would have said. Sunday sucks because – although it is the weekend – there is work the next day…usually a lot to catch up on, etc. Wednesday day is annoying. I don't teach on Wednesday – but it is like a fake weekend. I know that I should go to the theatre and do some work – and that I have get up early on Thursday for class.

Well, today is Tuesday. As of right now I am officially declaring Tuesday my least favorite day of the week. Last Tuesday I submitted a story to this blog…it started by noting that Amy wakes up earlier than me on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. That has not changed. Today, Amy got up earlier than me.

I woke up a little while later to a blood curdling scream. I was in a daze – I thought I was dreaming. Why would Amy be screaming? What in the hell is going on? As my mind made its way into reality I realized what she was screaming.

"CAYUGA!!! GET BACK IN HERE!!! GET AWAY FROM THAT!!! CAAAAAAAAYUGAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Are you kidding me? Another squirrel? There was another dead squirrel in my yard – and this time the dog found it before we did. A frazzled Amy came and got me from my slumber. The best we could tell the dog hadn't tried to eat the squirrel, he was just sort of sniffing it…and rolling on it.

"I'm late and the dog needs a bath."

Those were the last words I heard as Amy left to tend to her 2^nd graders.

A bath?!?!?! I pay somebody to give my dog baths. He goes to a doggy spa – his day of haircutting, bathing and relaxing is more money than three of my haircuts. I don't know how to bathe him…and I am still supposed to be sleeping.

I threw him (nicely) in the shower. Fortunately I installed one of those "removable showerheads" so I was able to hold him and the shower. This situation was already on the fast track to something from the Three Stooges, or America's Funniest Home Videos. Imagine me in my PJ's – still mostly asleep (I am sure that I looked as though I wouldn't have passed a sobriety test), the dog soaking wet…crying in the corner of the shower – and dog shampoo (or is it soap) EVERYWHERE.

I should point out at this point that my cute little white fluffy dog looks like a sad old man when he is wet. Not a dog…an old man. It is funny and sad all at the same time.

I should also note that Cayuga cannot just be washed and left to dry. Because of his hair, he has to be blown dry and brushed as you go. If not, he gets tangled, matted and it is uncomfortable for him – and for us when his regular groomer yells at us.

There we are, in the bathroom – Cayuga whining and crying like I am eating his little leg off. If a neighbor had walked by, they would have been in a right mind to call the police with all the noise he was making.

When the hair dryer came out – Cayuga looked at me with that look that says "you are not putting that thing anywhere near me…consider yourself warned."

"Cayuga," I said, "it is far too early in the morning to fight with you. I have to get to school and set up my paint lecture. You have to be dry in order for me to do that. Sit your ass down, or I'll sit it for you."

It was like the showdown at the OK Corral – only one side was going to make it out alive. I was just hoping that Wyatt Earp was on my side.

I flipped on the hair dryer and the barking commenced. It is no secret that I hate Cayuga's bark – it is surprisingly loud given his size. It is even louder when you are closed up in a tiny bathroom.

I moved in. At the top of my lungs I shouted "bark all you want, I'm not stopping until you look like a dog again, little old man."

The barking stopped. He glared at me. Then he went back to barking. I knew that if I could hold out a little bit longer he would grow tired of the noise, too. It only took 10 minutes, but I outlasted the dog. Yes, my ears were ringing – but I had won this battle.

As with most dogs, after the barking comes the biting. Cayuga is not a vicious biter, rather, he sometimes 'mouths' when playing. He sort of uses his mouth as an extension or a hand or something. He doesn't clamp down…he just plays. And he knows it gets a reaction. After all the barking I felt like I was on my last nerve. How much 'biting' would I be able to put up with? More importantly – is he like this with the groomer, or is it special for dad?

I don't want to bore you with any more of the pain and suffering we both endured to get through the process. Just know that Cayuga was dried and brushed…and there was not much bloodshed in the end.

But that's not the end of the story. What about the squirrel? It is yet to be cleaned up. Fortunately, I had my system from last week. I would save myself the annoyance and humor of pitching it over the fence. No – this time I went out shovel in one hand and "cinch sack" in the other.

"Umm…"

The squirrel wasn't there. Is it possible I am looking in the right spot? I thought I saw it earlier – but I was in such a daze I might have confused it for a leaf. As I scanned the yard I realized I was right. There it was – over next to the fence.

As I went down for the 'scoop' his head turned.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I screamed – and possibly wet my pants a little bit.

It was alive. Not very alive – but alive and aware. It was staring at me with that look that says "don't put me in that shovel. I'm still alive and trying to get to that tree over there."

I wanted to help – I really did. But, the sad truth is that the bathing took so long I had to get to my class.

I helped the little guy hobble over to a whole in the fence. Sure – he might be in my neighbor's yard – but he was dying. My plan was to come back right after class to provide the proper burial like I did last week.

I did make it to class on time – barely. I didn't have time to set up, but I worked it out. The real problem was after class. I quickly scampered home to make everything right. The squirrel was gone. Seriously. I hate to end the story this way – but I only speak the truth. I looked everywhere for the little guy. There is no way he could have moved. When I saw him an hour earlier he was knock knock knocking on heaven's door. There is no way he could have gone anywhere…but he did.

I've named him Secret. Homage to the wonderful cartoon, Secret Squirrel and it leaves room in the event I ever find a mole.

One class, one clean dog and one missing squirrel later – my day was off to an amazing start. Stear clear of me on Tuesday. It is my least favorite day of the week.

RIP Rocky (and Rocky II)

On Monday, Tuesday and Thursday Amy wakes up at 6:15 and I wake up at 7:30. Normally after she is up and ready to go she stops and says "bye" to me – and that is that. This morning was different. At 6:45 I was shaken awake…

"Gordon, wake up!"

"What?! Is everything OK?"

"Yeah – there is a dead squirrel in the backyard. Make sure you clean it up before you let the dog out. I don't want him to eat it."

I groaned… "OK – I'll clean it up before I let Cay out" and then I was asleep again.

At 7:30 I woke up and slowly rolled over. Cayuga was still asleep. I carefully slipped out of the bed so as not to disturb him. I wanted to take care of this "squirrel situation" before he was begging to go out. No dice. As soon as I was out the backdoor with the shovel I saw Cayuga sitting by the door with his legs crossed and that look on his face. You know the look that says – "I really have to pee…look at all that grass – why won't you open this door?"

I looked back him with the look that says "I know buddy – I will let you out once I get rid of this dead squirrel so that I don't worry about you tracking bits and pieces of it all around the house."

As I turned to meet my destiny, I saw something else. It was another dead squirrel. There were two now?!?! In the time that Amy told me about one, another had died.

I should say that in the back of my head I was wondering if they were really dead. A few weeks ago while mowing my lawn a squirrel fell from a tree and landed with a hard thud. It looked deader than a doornail. Its legs were up, it wasn't moving. As I got closer to "inspect" the creature – its eyes popped open and it jumped up…wobbled a little and scampered back up the tree. I did all I could to keep from screaming and wetting my pants.

After an event like that, you can start to see my reservations with dealing with "dead" squirrels. So I crept up to my brown and furry friend – armed with my shovel in case it was "faking."

I tapped it with my shovel. It was stiff…very stiff. I turned around and saw Cayuga again…I had to act quickly.

Now – I need to give a little more background. In our neighborhood people take care of their yards. It is not like we all have putting greens, but they are usually well tended and presentable. That is everybody except for the house directly behind us. They have grass that is never mowed, more garbage than you can shake a stick at, a pool that has NEVER been opened – and more concrete lawn ornaments than stars in the sky. And it all looks awful. Really awful. Downright hideous.

With Cayuga on my mind and a squirrel in my hand I decided my best option was just to throw the thing over the fence. Surely they would never see the thing…and if they did they would just think it was a dead squirrel – not something that I threw over the fence. Besides, it serves them right – they should take better care of their house.

I launched little Rocky over the fence and ran to get the other.

"Hang on, Cayuga!!! I'll be there in a second."

When I touched Rocky II he was soft…very soft. He was either freshly dead, or faking. Panic set in. I was starting to think that this one might jump up mid-process. My shovel dexterity was gone…and I was freaking out. I couldn't get him on the shovel!!! I scanned the yard and found a stick. Quickly I was able to use a "chopstick" maneuver and get him onto the shovel.

I quickly turned to check out Cayuga. In my haste the squirrel fell off the shovel.

"OH SHIT!!! Shit shit shit shit."

I scampered to get it back on the shovel. Fortunately I still had my stick. After a brief moment I had launched Rocky II to his final resting spot.

"Rest in peace, guys!" I shouted as I went to let the dog out.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with my work I went about the rest of my day as normal. However, as the morning went on I started thinking about the earlier events of the day. One dead squirrel was fine. Two dead squirrels was odd. Very odd. And now they were laying conspicuously close to each other…conspicuously close to my fence. I did the wrong thing. Not only did I disrespect the deceased squirrels, but I had thrown them into my neighbor's yard. Regardless of how nasty their yard is – the squirrels died in my yard. This was my problem. And now it was more of a problem.

My fence is tall. Very tall. And they have a fence, too. And their yard is LITTERED with "No Trespassing" signs. I wasn't sure what to do. All I knew was I had to get those squirrels back.

Here were the options as I saw them…I could wait until dark, wear all black and sneak into their yard, get my squirrels and get out. They have dogs in kennels, so I would have to be careful not to wake them. Not that they could chase me – but they could bark and raise suspicion. Another option was to just walk over – knock on the door – tell them what I did and face the music. OK – that was not really an option – but I had to think it. And then I was out of options. I needed more time…I needed a plan. A good plan.

Then it hit me, like a squirrel falling from the sky, I could just remove a bunch of planks from my fence. Then, I could crawl through, collect the squirrels, crawl back through and put the fence back together. GENIUS!!! This would surely reverse any bad karma – and I could totally explain it if I got caught by the neighbor. "Oh – I am just working on the fence. It looks a little rotted here. Oh – I noticed some dead squirrels, thought I'd clean those up for you." Talk about a win win situation.

So – at 8:30 this evening I went to work with a hammer and a crowbar. I started tearing planks apart on the fence. Sure enough - there they were. Two squirrels, peacefully lying on top of each other – arms (paws?) gracefully holding each other for all of eternity. Almost too peaceful to disturb.

I used my grill tongs to pick them up. I didn't want to deal with the shovel again…and I am in need of new tongs anyway. One might think it is degrading to a squirrel to be picked up in such a manner – but I think I was doing a service to my furry friends. I was helping to give them a proper burial. They deserve that.

So there I stood – squirrels in tongs. They were both stiff by now – it had been nearly 12 hours. Squirrels are heavier than you might think. Then again, maybe you think they are heavy. Regardless, I was surprised. Rocky II was clearly heavier.

I neatly placed the little angels into a "hefty cinch sack" – which is basically the squirrel equivalent to a titanium coffin. The finest money can buy. I carried the little bag around to the front. I noticed my karma changing already. Today is Tuesday – trash gets picked up tomorrow. Jackpot.

I buried the interlocked squirrels in with the rest of my trash. I bowed my head…said a few words. I ran inside hoping to find a Woodchuck in the fridge – I thought it might be a nice gesture to "pour one out" – and I don't think there are any squirrel beers.

I found a Miller High Life in the fridge. Not a Woodchuck – but still oddly appropriate. "Rest well little guys. May your afterlife be the High Life."

Now, some hours later I write this and it is pouring down rain outside. I am glad that I took care of this earlier. I would hate to be wet. I am glad the squirrels are in a hefty cinch sack. I would hate for them to be wet. We all deserve better.

*I thought about posting the pictures with this. But I did not want to subject you to pictures of me...with tongs...and squirrels. Maybe I will - in case you are doubting the truth of this.

Judge me - I don't care

My favorite show on television is Dancing with the Stars (DWTS). I don't know why - seriously. I don't. I have watched every episode - starting at teh very beginning of season 1.

I am not sure what my attraction to the show is. Tom Bergeron and Samantha Harris are TERRIBLE!!! I am not saying I can host a show - but I would like to believe that if I did - I would do a better job.

The stars - well - there is always the question as to their actual "star-ness." I mean - I guess you could argue the star power for all of them. Certainly they all have more celebrity than I do.

It is safe to say I don't know much about dancing. Scratch that - everything I know about dancing I learned from this show. Len Goodman, Bruno Tonioli and Carrie Ann Inaba have taught me more about ballroom and latin style dancing than you can shake a stick at. And by stick I mean your hips in a mambo (which was born in the 40's as a mix between Cuban dance and American swing). I am no expert - but I feel like I know what they are looking for with each dance.

There is a certain charm to the dancers - well - some of them. In some ways I feel as though they have more celebrity than the "stars." Take Cheryl Burke, for example. Her first season (2) she was paired with Drew Lachey - you know...Nick's brother...Jessica's ex-brother in law. Although that was her first season - she qucikly exploded onto the scene. She won that year - and the following year with better known partner Jerry Rice. This year she is paired with Ian Ziering. IAN ZIERING!!! Nobody even liked Steve Sanders!!! He was like - the one that nobody wanted to care about on 90210. OK Steve - you have a fast car - can we get back to Dylan...because he is cool and has NICE hair!!! Cheryl trumps him - plus she is really cute.

I think that the "man-stars" have a MUCH better chance of winning this show. Yeah - that ho-bag won season 1 - but that was a DIRECT result of no clothes and her daytime TV status...but she was not the better dancer. Stacey Kiebler made a GREAT run - and I thought she might pull it off - but it seems that in this style of dancing this woman has more to do. So - the "women-stars" might have a harder time/more work? I don't know...I am just a casual observer.

Anyway - having said all of that - I will now grace you with my picks for this season. I think that Apolo Anton Ohno and his partner (18 year old) Julianne Hough will win. He is the darkhorse. I had hopes - but he is GOOD. She is cute - they look great together - they get along. I think that Joey Fatone and his partner Kym Johnson will do well. Kym got Jerry Springer FAR in the competition last year...and he was terrible. Although Joey is a "Fat-One" he has moves, style and charisma. I think that Ian and Cheryl will be strong - but no 3-peat for Cheryl. She is great - but Steve is Steve...he is not worrying about dancing. He is worrying about what "Steve" looks like while dancing. I think that if Heather Mills stays long enough - her leg WILL fall off. I think that the 2 other atheletes (Miss Ali and The Glide) will have early exits...though not as early as Billy Ray Cyrus. The other three contestants are just filler - so they can drag the show on longer. I feel bad for their partners who are going to work hard...but age and other factors will take them out.

So those are my thoughts on the show. I think it will be a good season. I will watch it - I will get excited to speculate about the stars for the following season. I will be sad when they finally announce them...and I will go through the whole routine again. If you don't already watch - I won't tell you to watch it. It is not the kind of show that everybody likes. If you do watch...we can start a club.