Asking for Seconds

This is the view from my desk.

Stalker

He knows where I live.

Leaving peanuts on the porch for squirrels has become a fun family tradition, kind of like having proxy pets.  Eventually they come running at the sound of the sliding door and maybe even take peanuts from your hand.  The initial offerings earned mixed reviews, but then apparently the word got out.

I usually leave a handful of peanuts outside first thing in the morning and then go about my business.  Liking the idea of a free lunch in addition to breakfast, the squirrels would tap the glass when the supply ran out, jump on the screen door and rattle the handle.  We could usually just ignore them, and they would go back to their regularly scheduled foraging routine.

But lately I've been frequently interrupted from my work in the back bedroom by a crashing thump on the window.  Now the Beady-Eye Brigade knows where to find me when the service isn't up to par.   They cleaned out the peanut stockpile yesterday and I had to dip into some old (and mostly decorative) mixed nuts in the shell from last Christmas.  I hope they don't expect almonds and walnuts next time.

The Mauling

We did have a slight incident between being sick and getting the car fixed.  The plan for the day was to take a relaxing trip out to Lover's Point to build Monkey a sand castle.  Nothing went according to plan, again documented at Banana Bum.  Besides the bacteria, seaweed refuse, and general inhospitality of the place that day, we thought we could at least feed the squirrels in peace.

Apparently the squirrels at Lover's Point are even tamer than I remembered.  All you have to do is call to them and twenty will come out of the rocks to partake of the proffered goodies.  The way they sat in our laps, rifled through our bags and crowded around in gangs was almost intimidating.  We thought we might have a theme for a new Hitchcock movie.  Still, it was all good until one - the felonious rodent pictured - got quite overexcited and decided to drag away my little finger.

I'd been bitten once before by a nervous young squirrel, but this was much worse.  Bev managed to beat him off, but not before he'd crunched on my knuckle several times.  The wound bled profusely for several minutes as we rummaged for the first aid supplies.  The squirrels didn't seem to comprehend the emergency and continued to crowd around gawking at us, getting blood dripped on them for their trouble.  We considered running by the hospital, but we didn't happen to have the GPS with us at the time, and I wasn't sure how to get there from the beach.

It was a long walk back to the car.  Bev drove home while I applied pressure and a Kleenex.  By the time we made it home to retrieve the GPS, the bleeding had stopped and we elected to just sanitize it ourselves with rubbing alcohol.  The dread associated with the possibility of an unnecessary rabies vaccination did factor into the decision.

It took a week and some days, but the wound healed without incident and my finger has made a full recovery.  Now I have a nice "T" shaped scar.  The moral of the story is to keep your extra fingers out of reach at all times.

Local Wildlife

The beach trip yesterday was probably the most fun I've had by myself since I arrived on this coast. Dave's a great guy who can be lots of fun in his own way, but he always gets bored and tired at the beach. Besides, he doesn't like precarious places, and I was running around all over rocks and cliffs and overhangs having a grand old time. That distinctive salty beach smell always reminds me of being a kid on vacation in Florida. These beaches aren't nearly as big as Florida beaches, but they are more interesting with all the rocks lying around.

The stale bread was quite a hit with the locals. The gulls were a bit standoffish and grabby, very territorial. The little black birds were just trying to get a crumb in edgewise. Eventually I looked down, and one of the squirrels from the rock pile was right by my foot, waiting for his share. I gave him a decent piece, which he took right from my hand, and then ran off before the gulls could notice.

I moved from the beach to the rock pile because the squirrels seemed like more fun and the gulls had already had quite enough. The older squirrels were the soul of politeness. I got some pictures on my phone, but of course I have no idea how to do anything with them. They would all stand on the rock with their little paws up, each waiting his turn, being very careful not to scratch me when they took their bread bites. They practically said thank you. But the younger ones were so nervous that they crunched down on whatever they grabbed first, which on one occasion was my finger. The resulting wound wasn't any deeper than a paper cut, but due to the circumstances I was quite thorough in disinfecting it. One of the older crowd was really fat, so I suspect they're old hands at this begging thing. It was all peachy until the gulls figured out what was going on and started attacking the squirrels. No manners at all.

There weren't many people there yesterday, being a weekday. I'm thinking of going back this morning while it's still cloudy. It's so much more peaceful without all the screaming kids and the "ching-ching" of the tourist rent-a-bikes.

Getting Some Traction

I think I've finally made a full phycological recovery. I can actually get up and make a dent in the list of long overdue house chores, scrub the bathroom, clean the kitchen, sweep and mop the floor and keep the dishes done, all instead of lying around in a sweatshirt with my hair in a knot watching crap on YouTube. I can look at Gerber commercials without going to pieces, and I don't hate the sight of mothers walking through the neighborhood with strollers. I can even visit Facebook once in a while to read about my friends and their new kids.

Meredith came down for a visit yesterday while she was still in town. We went out for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach and rocks at Lover's Point having long overdue candid conversation. We even spotted a few whales in the bay. I'll have to take my sister out there when she comes; she'll love the squirrels everywhere. But next time I'll actually remember to bring some sunscreen. Ouch.

David is taking his mock finals this week, and it's looking more and more like he'll actually get the rollback we've been waiting for. The paperwork in question seems to be making good time through the proper channels. We're not sure exactly how long that will extend our stay out here, but we should know more in a week or two.

Once he actually joins his new class, we'll move our things out here and make this house some semblance of a home. Just cleaning the floor and picking up all the crap that was piled in the corners made it feel less like living in a garage. I put the guest bedroom together for Bev, and it already looks cozy, or as much as it can with just the "bed" (air mattress) and three small pictures from the dollar store. It would be nice to just have a few posters in poster frames to lighten the monotony, but nobody sells posters of anything we'd bother to hang on our walls. I used to swear by Allposters.com, but now they're more about pricy art prints.

The IRS is still mucking around with my tax return, which I filed 16 weeks ago. The first time I called them they gave me some line about it taking eight weeks to process a paper return, which wasn't really relevant, because I filed electronically. The website told me they had deposited it a few weeks ago, but now they've changed their minds and say they might possibly mail it by Friday. I will believe it when I see $705.70 appear in the bank. Maybe this was an act of God, making sure we didn't spend it before we could put it toward hiring a moving truck.