Good ol' country livin'

Boy, you just gotta love country livin'. Living out here in the sticks, we have little raccoons that think our trash barrels are a restaurant. I think the lids have become warped or something with time, because they never could get in before. Now the little fuckers pop the lids right off and get in and chow down.

Well. This morning, Hub got up at 6 am to get ready to take off for work and he could hear this scratching outside. And all I can hear is him going "Those little fuckers!" and then a pause, and he's laughing. "Hon, you gotta come see this!". I go look out the window and there's a raccoon in our empty barrel, trying to get out, only he had some kind of plastic jar on his head. But good. SO, we go outside, me still in my nightgown (a size 3x one leftover from the old fatty days--hey! it's comfortable!), morning breath and all, and Hub rouses up Butthead for some help.

The little bastard was not cooperative to our assistance. Butthead's mom is an animal freak and this has rubbed off on the boy, so his first instinct is to cut a hole in the jar so the thing could breathe. Trying to pull the jar off his head was impossible. Did you know that raccoons growl? I didn't. He was a fighter and not appreciative of our help at all. Finally, after a few escape attempts (HUb would not let him go just to die), we put him in a box and Hub took him down to the fire station around the corner. The extra manpower was all that was needed, they all managed to get the jar off his poor little head. Hub told them he was going to bring him back here to let him go, since he was just a baby and he lives around here.

But before that, Hub, the Dunkins addict, takes a ride down to grab a coffee, and poor Butthead had to hold the box with the 'coon in it the whole time.

Anyway, the little guy was fine, and let go to his home as soon as they were back. Hub got some pictures, which I'd love to post but he took the damn camera with him. Our neighbors must think we're crazy. Oh well. We are.

So...I'm still mulling over this olive branch thing with The Douchebag. And to show I'm serious, I will change her name here from The Douchebag to "Esther". She's got an old fashioned name like that in real life. There's such a bitter history in the past four or so years, that I know it'll be difficult to overcome. BUt worse things have been overcome, right? And I don't want to be

friends , I just want an end to all this bullshit. I know it'll take time, and I don't even know if she'll be up for it, and I don't know what Hub will think, but in the end, it's the little girl who suffers from this shit and she's the biggest reason to end the war. Ya know? Maybe I'm deluding myself into thinking this could work, but what do I have to lose from trying? I've been going over a dialogue in my head over and over, I'm trying really hard to think outside the box for a change. No one wins and everyone loses in this mess the way it is, most of all Daisy.

I'm diving back into studying Buddhism now that I've actually got time to read and meditate. It's been such a help to me. There's actually a meditation group that meets twice a month in town, I'm considering joining.

Well, I've got to get going. Busy day ahead. Beavis is getting out of Boy Scout camp and we're all going to my dad's for lunch and then to the lake for some swimming.

See! I wasn't kidding when I said I was going to start updating somewhat regularly!

Ciao!

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