Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Kellie's Lizard
My half sister Kellie is unique in many ways – bless her heart. Whether meaning to or not, you can count on her to be entertaining.
She came home one day after competing in the Santa Barbara County Special Olympics, all excited because my kids and I had come down from Oregon to visit. After she came into the dining room to pass out bear hugs, she ran to her room instructing me not to go anywhere. She had something she wanted to show me. I had no idea what to expect. Kellie was a collector of things. From three foot tall KISS dolls to countless vinyl records, living things, magazines, basically you name it – it was in her room.
She came out with something behind her back and told me to shut my eyes. ‘Crap!’ I thought. She did have a tarantula once. I don’t do bugs – AT ALL! Seeing the alarm on my face, my stepmother assured me it would be alright. She knew my fear so I trusted her and shut my eyes.
“OK Cynthia Louise Huston, open your eyes!” (She almost always called me by my whole legal name, part of her uniqueness.)
I peeped through squinted eyes. Whatever she had was inside of a mason jar. I opened my eyes to check it out. Inside, hanging on for dear life was an itty bitty blue bellied lizard, the smallest I had ever seen.
“It’s really cute Kellie, where did you get it?” I asked. It was a perfect little miniature.
She pointed out to the back patio. My dad loves to bar-be-que, only using oak wood. He always had a wood pile on the back patio just for his pit. It was on this wood pile that Kellie found this terrified little creature.
“You need to put some dirt in there and poke holes in the lid.” I was fearful for the little things future. “What are you feeding it?” I added.
“I don’t feed it nothing.” She answered, pulling the jar back protectively. She could tell I was going from curious to concern. She didn’t like it.
I explained that she needed to care for it or it would die. She didn’t want to hear it and stomped off back to her room. I made a mental note to sneak into her room later and rescue the little reptile.
This was normal Kellie activity, so I quickly went back to the business of catching up on family chit chat with my parents. My dad got busy doing one the things that he does best which is bar-be-que-ing Tri Tip. I helped my step mom in the kitchen with preparing the other food.
After dinner my youngest son, Ryan, about 12 at the time, and I sat at the dinning room table looking at family photos of things we had missed out on since moving to Oregon. My dad also built racing engines so we looked at pictures of before and after shots of race cars. His favorite was a big yellow mustang which was converted to a nitro burning mud bogger, known as ‘The Mudstang’.
Suddenly Kellie came running out of her room, all upset. She couldn’t find her lizard. I felt a little sad because I hadn’t had a chance to go on my rescue mission. The poor thing was on its own now. I had a visual of it being flattened somewhere in her clutter, or maybe even stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
I asked her what happened and she turned away, fighting tears, both hands covering her face. As she turned away, there hanging onto her upper back was the little lizard – a stow away. My son and I looked at each other, eyes wide in amazement and fighting like hell not to burst out laughing. Ryan sprung into action. He put an arm around Kellie as if to console her. As he did so, he grabbed up the little lizard. He nodded at me and I knew in an instant that it was my cue and I took it from his hand. I took it out to the wood pile and set it free while Ryan went into Kellie’s room and pretended to help her look for it.. The whole thing went together beautifully in a matter of seconds, as if we had planned it all out.
Of course the lizard would never be found, but it kept Kellie occupied to look for it for the next few days. Her sadness waned over this time and eventually all was well.
She came home one day after competing in the Santa Barbara County Special Olympics, all excited because my kids and I had come down from Oregon to visit. After she came into the dining room to pass out bear hugs, she ran to her room instructing me not to go anywhere. She had something she wanted to show me. I had no idea what to expect. Kellie was a collector of things. From three foot tall KISS dolls to countless vinyl records, living things, magazines, basically you name it – it was in her room.
She came out with something behind her back and told me to shut my eyes. ‘Crap!’ I thought. She did have a tarantula once. I don’t do bugs – AT ALL! Seeing the alarm on my face, my stepmother assured me it would be alright. She knew my fear so I trusted her and shut my eyes.
“OK Cynthia Louise Huston, open your eyes!” (She almost always called me by my whole legal name, part of her uniqueness.)
I peeped through squinted eyes. Whatever she had was inside of a mason jar. I opened my eyes to check it out. Inside, hanging on for dear life was an itty bitty blue bellied lizard, the smallest I had ever seen.
“It’s really cute Kellie, where did you get it?” I asked. It was a perfect little miniature.
She pointed out to the back patio. My dad loves to bar-be-que, only using oak wood. He always had a wood pile on the back patio just for his pit. It was on this wood pile that Kellie found this terrified little creature.
“You need to put some dirt in there and poke holes in the lid.” I was fearful for the little things future. “What are you feeding it?” I added.
“I don’t feed it nothing.” She answered, pulling the jar back protectively. She could tell I was going from curious to concern. She didn’t like it.
I explained that she needed to care for it or it would die. She didn’t want to hear it and stomped off back to her room. I made a mental note to sneak into her room later and rescue the little reptile.
This was normal Kellie activity, so I quickly went back to the business of catching up on family chit chat with my parents. My dad got busy doing one the things that he does best which is bar-be-que-ing Tri Tip. I helped my step mom in the kitchen with preparing the other food.
After dinner my youngest son, Ryan, about 12 at the time, and I sat at the dinning room table looking at family photos of things we had missed out on since moving to Oregon. My dad also built racing engines so we looked at pictures of before and after shots of race cars. His favorite was a big yellow mustang which was converted to a nitro burning mud bogger, known as ‘The Mudstang’.
Suddenly Kellie came running out of her room, all upset. She couldn’t find her lizard. I felt a little sad because I hadn’t had a chance to go on my rescue mission. The poor thing was on its own now. I had a visual of it being flattened somewhere in her clutter, or maybe even stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
I asked her what happened and she turned away, fighting tears, both hands covering her face. As she turned away, there hanging onto her upper back was the little lizard – a stow away. My son and I looked at each other, eyes wide in amazement and fighting like hell not to burst out laughing. Ryan sprung into action. He put an arm around Kellie as if to console her. As he did so, he grabbed up the little lizard. He nodded at me and I knew in an instant that it was my cue and I took it from his hand. I took it out to the wood pile and set it free while Ryan went into Kellie’s room and pretended to help her look for it.. The whole thing went together beautifully in a matter of seconds, as if we had planned it all out.
Of course the lizard would never be found, but it kept Kellie occupied to look for it for the next few days. Her sadness waned over this time and eventually all was well.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Remote Controlled Pets
From Lessons Learned Series
1996 – ish
My son Ryan and I ran to the grocery store leaving Trex, then a 3 month old spazzy puppy confined to the kitchen. It was going to be a short trip – she should be fine.
As for the two cats, they were always fine – sort of, but that’s another story.
We did our shopping and took bets as to whether or not Trex would still be confined to the kitchen when we returned. She was proving to be one of the greatest escape artist canines our family had ever encountered – and she was just at the beginning of it all.
We pulled into the parking lot of the huge apartment complex of which we lived in up on the plateau in Issaquah. As we got out of the car we could hear loud music. Not rock and roll type, but more like from a TV show or something. We each loaded up our arms as full as possible and then the familiar tune came to me. Carol Burnett! It was the theme song to the Carol Burnett Show.
“Man”, I exclaimed, “someone really likes the Carol Burnett Show, or they’re deaf!”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
“Because that music – it’s from the Carol Burnett Show. It’s really screaming!” I answered.
As we got closer to the front of our apartment building the music got louder. Gee, it was coming from someone in our building. It was kind of like the thumping in Tell Tale Heart. We lived on the third floor and as we climbed each flight of stairs the music got louder and louder. Thump thump.
We reached our door and my heart started racing as I was filled with a dreadful feeling. The sound was coming from behind our door. “What the …..?”
Ryan and I exchanged puzzled looks and both muttered “Trex!”
She had escaped indeed and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the TV was on and going full blast!! Yep, it was the Carol Burnett Show alright. All the pets were out of sight, hiding from the noise no doubt. And there in the middle of the living room floor was the remote, little teeth marks all over it.
Trex and the cats were both hiding under my bed. She came scampering out as soon as I turned the TV off. The cats however could not be coaxed out till a few hours had passed poor things.
The lesson didn’t end there for me. I figured that putting the remote control out of Trex’s reach was the answer. It wasn’t.
A few weeks later I was witness to a levitating cat. My female cat was the most inquisitive of the pair. I was always rescuing her. This time she jumped on the end table where I had safely stowed the remote control out of Trex’s reach. When she landed, she hit the ON/OFF button and the volume simultaneously.
In a nanosecond she blasted straight up in the air about three feet and lurched forward, a black streak heading for the safety of the under-bed. She was like a cartoon kitty. It was an amazing sight. I would have given anything to get that on film.
Lesson learned – always stow the remote control with the buttons facing downward. I still do this out of habit, even though I no longer have my kitties. They trained me well.
1996 – ish
My son Ryan and I ran to the grocery store leaving Trex, then a 3 month old spazzy puppy confined to the kitchen. It was going to be a short trip – she should be fine.
As for the two cats, they were always fine – sort of, but that’s another story.
We did our shopping and took bets as to whether or not Trex would still be confined to the kitchen when we returned. She was proving to be one of the greatest escape artist canines our family had ever encountered – and she was just at the beginning of it all.
We pulled into the parking lot of the huge apartment complex of which we lived in up on the plateau in Issaquah. As we got out of the car we could hear loud music. Not rock and roll type, but more like from a TV show or something. We each loaded up our arms as full as possible and then the familiar tune came to me. Carol Burnett! It was the theme song to the Carol Burnett Show.
“Man”, I exclaimed, “someone really likes the Carol Burnett Show, or they’re deaf!”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
“Because that music – it’s from the Carol Burnett Show. It’s really screaming!” I answered.
As we got closer to the front of our apartment building the music got louder. Gee, it was coming from someone in our building. It was kind of like the thumping in Tell Tale Heart. We lived on the third floor and as we climbed each flight of stairs the music got louder and louder. Thump thump.
We reached our door and my heart started racing as I was filled with a dreadful feeling. The sound was coming from behind our door. “What the …..?”
Ryan and I exchanged puzzled looks and both muttered “Trex!”
She had escaped indeed and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the TV was on and going full blast!! Yep, it was the Carol Burnett Show alright. All the pets were out of sight, hiding from the noise no doubt. And there in the middle of the living room floor was the remote, little teeth marks all over it.
Trex and the cats were both hiding under my bed. She came scampering out as soon as I turned the TV off. The cats however could not be coaxed out till a few hours had passed poor things.
The lesson didn’t end there for me. I figured that putting the remote control out of Trex’s reach was the answer. It wasn’t.
A few weeks later I was witness to a levitating cat. My female cat was the most inquisitive of the pair. I was always rescuing her. This time she jumped on the end table where I had safely stowed the remote control out of Trex’s reach. When she landed, she hit the ON/OFF button and the volume simultaneously.
In a nanosecond she blasted straight up in the air about three feet and lurched forward, a black streak heading for the safety of the under-bed. She was like a cartoon kitty. It was an amazing sight. I would have given anything to get that on film.
Lesson learned – always stow the remote control with the buttons facing downward. I still do this out of habit, even though I no longer have my kitties. They trained me well.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Secret Smoker
From the 'What Was That All About?' series.
At first I thought nothing of it. I lived in a rather large apartment complex, and people came and went continuously. It was a warm, sunny afternoon - good day to go out and clean up my back deck. I was sweeping and heard a car drive in just below me, so I glanced down absently from my second floor vantage point. It was nothing special, just a little white BMW. It circled the parking lot once and then parked near the fence.
I bent down to sweep up the little pile I had made and as I stood up to empty the contents of my dust pan, I noticed that a woman was standing at the rear of the BMW and that she had opened the trunk. I figured she was just getting out groceries or something. I went inside for a moment before returning to my deck cleaning.
As I came out onto the deck, I noticed that the woman had put on a hot pink jacket and baseball hat. Her head was surrounded by the smoke she had just exhaled from the cigarette she was smoking. She was looking around nervously. My thought was that perhaps she was one of those people who don’t smoke inside of their homes and was getting her fix before going inside – wherever that might be. I continued with my chore.
I was rolling my little Weber back into the corner when I saw the woman take off her jacket, put it into a plastic bag and then do the same with her hat. She put them back into the trunk, gave a quick toss of her head, fluffing out her platinum blond hair, got back into her car and drove away. I then realized that she was a secret smoker.
I didn’t really think that I would ever see her again, but she returned again, and again. She had the whole routine down. I began looking for her – quite amused.
It only got better as she graduated from just tucking her hair up under her hot pink hat and to pulling what looked to be a produce bag over her head to completely cover her hair. Hmm, she must have been questioned on the home front or something.
Then came the day that impulse took over, and my boyfriend Rich was game to go along with my crazy idea. We were just pulling in from work and saw her taking off her super secret smoker shields. I told Rich that I wanted to follow her. I was curious about many things, one of which was about just how close to my world she was located. I mean, why had she chosen my parking lot to do her deed?
I instructed Rich to keep an eye on her while I turned my car around. He agreed to the task so I went about the business of turning around. He pointed to a white car heading south on Bothell Everett Hwy so I began tailing it. I kept my distance and used over exaggerated hand gestures, to appear nonchalant in case she had noticed me.
We followed the car for a few miles and then it turned into a ritzy neighborhood. I turned also but slowed way down. The white car pulled into a driveway and we passed it just in time to see the driver exit the car. It wasn’t even her!!!! We followed the wrong car! I glared at Rich – all he had to do was keep his eye on the car. He explained that once we got to the highway that he saw two white BMW’s and panicked. So he just picked one of them and hoped it was the right one. Well it wasn’t. CSI isn’t his thing for sure.
I have only seen her a few more times since then, so hopefully she gave up that nasty habit. But still the question remains, ‘What was that all about?’
At first I thought nothing of it. I lived in a rather large apartment complex, and people came and went continuously. It was a warm, sunny afternoon - good day to go out and clean up my back deck. I was sweeping and heard a car drive in just below me, so I glanced down absently from my second floor vantage point. It was nothing special, just a little white BMW. It circled the parking lot once and then parked near the fence.
I bent down to sweep up the little pile I had made and as I stood up to empty the contents of my dust pan, I noticed that a woman was standing at the rear of the BMW and that she had opened the trunk. I figured she was just getting out groceries or something. I went inside for a moment before returning to my deck cleaning.
As I came out onto the deck, I noticed that the woman had put on a hot pink jacket and baseball hat. Her head was surrounded by the smoke she had just exhaled from the cigarette she was smoking. She was looking around nervously. My thought was that perhaps she was one of those people who don’t smoke inside of their homes and was getting her fix before going inside – wherever that might be. I continued with my chore.
I was rolling my little Weber back into the corner when I saw the woman take off her jacket, put it into a plastic bag and then do the same with her hat. She put them back into the trunk, gave a quick toss of her head, fluffing out her platinum blond hair, got back into her car and drove away. I then realized that she was a secret smoker.
I didn’t really think that I would ever see her again, but she returned again, and again. She had the whole routine down. I began looking for her – quite amused.
It only got better as she graduated from just tucking her hair up under her hot pink hat and to pulling what looked to be a produce bag over her head to completely cover her hair. Hmm, she must have been questioned on the home front or something.
Then came the day that impulse took over, and my boyfriend Rich was game to go along with my crazy idea. We were just pulling in from work and saw her taking off her super secret smoker shields. I told Rich that I wanted to follow her. I was curious about many things, one of which was about just how close to my world she was located. I mean, why had she chosen my parking lot to do her deed?
I instructed Rich to keep an eye on her while I turned my car around. He agreed to the task so I went about the business of turning around. He pointed to a white car heading south on Bothell Everett Hwy so I began tailing it. I kept my distance and used over exaggerated hand gestures, to appear nonchalant in case she had noticed me.
We followed the car for a few miles and then it turned into a ritzy neighborhood. I turned also but slowed way down. The white car pulled into a driveway and we passed it just in time to see the driver exit the car. It wasn’t even her!!!! We followed the wrong car! I glared at Rich – all he had to do was keep his eye on the car. He explained that once we got to the highway that he saw two white BMW’s and panicked. So he just picked one of them and hoped it was the right one. Well it wasn’t. CSI isn’t his thing for sure.
I have only seen her a few more times since then, so hopefully she gave up that nasty habit. But still the question remains, ‘What was that all about?’
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