Sunday, December 10, 2006 - Opossums in the moon light...

They did it to me again...

This time, just minutes ago, as I made my nightly rounds within the borders of our small, city property we have keenly dubbed 'The Harrison Homestead', I was startled by movement.  There I was, minding my own business, and I round the corner to see a huge, bald rat tail, big beady eyes, and a big, open mouth with pointy teeth, hissing in my general direction before it slinked off under the van.

Geez-oh-Petes!  Opossums really creep me out!  It took me 15 minutes before I had my 'willies' under control.

I remember the first time I became up close and personal with an opossum.  Believe it or not, I had never encountered one growing up in the country.  I only saw them dead on the side of the road (as we drove by) or Mutual of Ohmaha's "Wild Kingdom" with Marlin Perkins (an old animal t.v. show for you young readers).

Anyway, one mid morning, back in  the summer of 2003, I had just called my ever loving, always hungry husband at work, trying to pick his brain on what to make for dinner that evening.  I got the usual 'I dunno' (must be a universal husband response) and so, in mild irritation, decided to bag the weekend garbage and take it outside to the trash can.   I opened the lid...and this huge, white, rat like thing with all these teeth, jumped and hissed about!

I SCREAMED so hard, my voice was hoarse for at least a day!  I slammed the lid back down and jumped back, my heart pounding in my throat and ears.  What the heck was that?  Some mutated thing from the sewer?  A strange, chemical reaction from the summer heat and the things I cleaned out of my refridgerator?  My husband's ex-girlfriend before me?  (Naw...her whiskers were black...) 

I, for the life of me, drew a complete blank.   Looking back, I believe that the fumes of the city had ate into my brain, and therefore, all my country knowledge had leaked out somewhere.  Thinking I possibly had spent too much time in the heat and that I must had been seeing things, I crept back up to the red trash can, opened the lid ever so s-l-o-w-l-y and peeked inside.  All I saw was those angry, black beady eyes and even more yellow, pointy teeth, beared in my general direction.  Yep.  It was a opossum.  I slammed the lid back down, put a handy cement block on top of the lid and paced back and forth in front of the trash can, thinking 'What am I gonna do now'?

Well, I did the first thing that came to my mind.  I called back my ever loving, always hungry husband at work, and said, "Guess what honey?  I got us some dinner"!

The man was not amused.  In fact, for the next two weeks, he looked at his dinner plate with suspicion.

I was not sure what to do with this...this thing.  Had we lived in the country, I would have had a few options.  Like take the trash can to nearby woods and let it go.  Or, I could have shot it or ran a pitch fork through it, and buried it in the garden.  (Animal lovers, no need for a lecture here - it did not happen that way).  But, this was the city, and I had no clue.  So, when I am not too sure what to do, I call my ever loving, brilliant husband at work.  Again. 

"Honey", he said, "We live in the city.  When city people have a problem with animals, they call the animal control office".

"Ahhhh.  So animal control is sorta like the DNR officer back home"?

"Yes".

"Except they are not as friendly and they wear those really ugly looking tan shorts?  You know, men who work in the animal control office should not be wearing shorts when the hair on their legs are as thick as the animals they capture.  It's just plain tacky".

I can't rightly remember his exact reply, but it had something to do with him NOT being the fashion police and he did not look at other mens legs, hairy or not.

So, I made the call to animal control.  They said they would be out in a few hours.  In the meantime, I wanted to make sure the opposum was still in the trash can, and so I took off the cement block and lifted the lid...only to find that it was curled up in a ball, looking quite sick.  I started thinking, that the poor thing must have been trapped all weekend in the trash can (which at the time, had been empty) and had gone at least three days with no food and water, in 90 degree weather.  I had worked up a good pity party for it, feeling ever so guilty that I had originally wanted the thing dead and gone.

By the time the animal control officer came out with her cage and loop leash (and yes, she had on those really ugly, tan shorts, with non hairy legs), I had checked on the opossum three times.  There had been no change, even as I gently kicked the side of the trash can to elite a response.  "I think I killed it", I softly said, as I showed her the offending can, hanging my head in shame lest she judge me on my confession of 'opossum slaughter'.

She lifted the lid.  "Oh, we got a beauty here"., she said as she slipped the noose of the loop leash around the opossum's neck.  As soon as she lifted up, this 'thing' lit right up, blowing itself up to be three times bigger, hissing wildly, bearing all pointy teeth, fangs and claws.  She deposited the opossum in the cage, where it continued on it's crazed rage, being full of life and unending supply of angry energy.  She then loaded this creature into the back of her truck.

I was in shock.  "Oh my!  I thought it was dead!"

This animal control officer looked at me and rolled her eyes.  "Lady", she said, "Have you not ever heard that opossums play dead"?    Then , I SWEAR I heard her say under her breath, "City people"! as she climbed into her truck and took off.

I must have stood there in my driveway for 10 minutes with my mouth hung open.  DUH!

Since then, I have come across opossums in our yard a couple times a year.  Always taking them by surprise, and usually at night.  They still give me the creeps.

I know, I know!!  I really should show some compassion.  They are one of God's creatures. 

If I really stretch my imagination, I could say that one could learn from opossums.  Like sometimes it is nessessary to appear fearful or fearless in spite of how we truly feel.  Somedays, it pays to 'play dead', not respond when poked or attacked, or to portray a perticular front, in order to protect your vunerable spirit.

Part of me can really admire their tenacity...after all, they are country critters who have been forced to adapt to the city enviorment in order to survive...

Sorta like me and my husband.

Merry meet....

Saturday, December 9, 2006 - On city weekend traffic and other headaches....

It's the weekend.

Oh-oh.

In most normal lives, the word 'weekend' elites exciting images of fun, good times, and great experiances.  It dazzles the imagination of kicking one's heels up, to relax, and perhaps to re-connect with those we have been too busy to touch base with all week.

That is probably true for most folks.

But not for this little transplanted country folk!  It has been over 12 years, and I still can not get used to all the craziness the weekend becomes if I choose to step off my front porch and into the van.  And....you know...go...out there.  In that 'other world'...

In the...(I shudder to say it)....in "the city".

The mere words strike terror in my little country heart!

You see, in my world, admist the decaying sprawl of Detroit and it's outer neighboring cities, the weekends spell "road-way horror".  With one step out the door and a crank of the key, you have tempted the fickle fate of destiny.  As you back out, you enter the "twilight zone" or what I like to call, the Motor City driver's nightmare!

But wait!  There's more!  Just for grins and giggles, let's add a little rainy or snowy weather....sprinkle in some holidays...and perhaps a touch of that 'lovely customer service'.  Let it brew with long waits in lines.... 

You have a recipe that spells weekend disater.  Headaches are imminent.

"Oh, come now"!, you say, "Lady, you don't have to be so melodramatic"!

Perhaps not.  But need I remind you that you are more than likely curled up next to your computer, living in the country!  The  biggest traffic problem you are likely to encounter is Joe Keetch's cows getting out again and they're blocking county road 612.

I am sooo envious!  I would trade cows for cars any day!

When I first moved to the city (and early in my marriage) I tried to keep up the city pace.  The running to and thro, always going and not accomplishing anything.  Weekends spelled disaster for my nerves.  I was always in a store with 20 people in line, and only two cashiers (complete with attitudes) were open.  What should have only taken a 15 minutes to drive to, was taking 45 minutes or more!  Oh, and the road rage!  Quite contagious!  By the time I got home, I was ornery and nasty tempered.  Even my cats would hide!  Calgon baths and a cup of chaomile tea did nothing for my disposition.

We couldn't wait for preacher on Sunday morning!  My saintly husband would have to volunteer to cast out the demons from me!

It got so I would dread the approaching weekends.  I would start to rant and rave, and snarl at the thought of all those evil events that would transport me a way from the safety and security of my little country oasis (aka my home).  Now, this may all seem a bit silly, if not trivial to most readers.  But, it was a huge problem for me.  I was a good driver with a great driving record.  But, the weekend city traffic had me scared and intimidated.  After a while, this attitude was starting to get to me.  I had to do something.  And being a country person, I knew how resourceful I could be.  So I started thinking....

I had my ever loving husband go out and do the weekend errands.  That only worked for a while.  He loves to go shopping and would spend hours out and about, spending money on things that WERE NOT on the list (and I STILL have to figure out what to make with them)!  Besides, with him gone, his chores at home were piling up.  He'd come home dead tired of all that traffic hassle, and I would not get a lick of work out of him the rest of the weekend.

My next choice was to have someone chauffer me about the town.  The logical choice would have been, once again, my ever loving husband.  This did not work out, as our ideas of what a bargain is and saving time on errands are at the total end of the specturm.  Besides, riding with him, in city weekend traffic, explains why I developed a new, premature grey streak in my auburn hair.  And we found out the 'breaks' work quite nicely on MY SIDE of the van, thank you! 

So, I sat, in my utter despair, bemoaning the fact that I would be forever trapped because of my heavy traffic fear, when my ever clever husband appealed to my 'self-reliant', country side.  "Stop thinking in city terms.", he said, " What would you do if we lived in the country"? 

"Never complain again"?  I got 'the look'.

"What would you do if we lived in the country and there was a traffic problem"?

"Uhhh...Help Joe Keetch get his cows back home"?  I got 'the sigh'.

"Okay.  What would you do, if we lived in the country, there was a traffic problem other than the neighbors cows being out, and you needed to get your errands done"?

Not wanting to get the double whammy of BOTH 'the look' AND 'the sigh', I tried thinking really hard.  "You mean, like slippery roads or an impending snow storm coming"?

My darling, ever patient husband patted my head encouragely.  "That's the direction.  Now, go with it".

"You mean, like a nuclear bomb went off, people are crazy with fear, visions of a real Y2K  happening and life as we know it will never be the same again"?

With pained resignation, my husband grabbed his newspaper and went to the bathroom, shutting the door.  A shut bathroom door means 'You are getting on my nerves.  I need my space for at least 30 minutes or until I get the crossword puzzle done'.

BUT, his point was made, and the light bulb went on!    I decided to treat the city weekend  traffic problem as I would  some bonafide, country puzzle.  I learned to prepare for the weekends as one tends to prepare for a snowstorm. 

I start no later than Thursday (Wednesday if the Friday will be included in a long holiday weekend treat).   I try to antisipate my family's needs and head out 'into town ' (mere minutes a way - but always a grand adventure!)  All errands are ran, gas tank is filled, staples are gathered.  Anything I may think I need, I get it all accomplished - then I batten down the hatches, and await the 'weekend storm'.  No stress. 

You know what?  It works for me!  This little country gal may seem simple minded, but I know what drives me crazy! (And it is not the city weekend traffic anymore!)

I learned the hard way, that  the old saying, "If you can't beat them, join them" does not apply to me living peacefully within the walls of this city.

Friday, December 8, 2006 - Introduction - Hey there! Hi there! Ho there!

The cursor is flashing.  Write something!

Gosh!  I thought this would be easy!

Since childhood, I have been  blessed with a story-telling talent.  For years, friends and family have been urging me on , to get these thoughts  and ideas down on paper.  Now, that we have the computer and the high speed hook-up, I though "Hey!  Now is the time to get on there, and write"!  I have heard of blogging.  Seems easy enough to start...

Now, I stare at the blank screen, willing my finger tips to come up with something witty.  Charming.  Smart.

Witty, charming and smart is not how I would currently discribe my state of being.  But that, my friends,  is for analysing at another time.

So, lets try this again.  Introduction time.   My husband Thom and I grew up in the country.  Thom, on the west side of Michigan, I in the northern part.  12 years ago, economics  separately drove us to the Detroit-Metro area, where we met, love blossomed, and we married. 

Since then, we have been trying to make it back to the country.  Yet, it seems as if God has other plans for the time being.  No matter how hard I cried, begged, bemoaned, cursed, and tried to bargin with God, there was no changing His mind.  (Yeah, right!  Like I even had a chance)!  I never said I was the brightest crayon in the box!

Durning one of my self-pity sulks, my brilliant and ever so patient husband (who has never backed down from a challenge --that is probably why our marriage works), suggested to me that perhaps we need to  bloom where we have been planted.  If that meant in the city, so be it. 

Thom then reminded me that there is a season for everything under heaven.  Our season, for what ever reason, may be here in our personal 'wilderness' - aka the city. 

Do you know how it irritates me that my husband can be so calm and so right? 

Some seasons have been easier than others.  There are periods when we feel we can 'co-exist' with the city brethern, admist the foul stench of decaying morals and values, the impure air and contaminated waterways.  Some seasons have found us teaching those around us a better way.  There also have been seasons where we have been fruitful and have multiplied. 

Other times, I think the fumes of the city and the morals of the people within have eaten away part of my brain and have digested part of my heart.  Their pollution weighs heavy on my spirit and I fear death in this cruel, God-forsaking area.

I guess one could say of our city stay, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times".....

Oh.  Yeah.  That quote has been already done.

At anyrate, the goal for having this blog is to use it as my sounding board.  I am not here to impress anyone or anything.  I am not always gonna be positive or entertaining.  My spelling and grammar are by no means in the big leagues. 

There are times I need to scream.  There are times I need to cry.  There are times I need to share my thoughts, even if no one is reading.  I am doing this for myself.   Perchance, I will be able to read between the lines and seek what God is trying to tell me.

Merry meet.....