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Posts Tagged ‘snake’

For the first time in a long while I can say that I may be starting to feel better. Yesterday I felt like mush, but today I’m feeling a bit more like uncooked oatmeal, a bit sturdier.

The interesting news, however, is I got the muffler on the car fixed yesterday and for the first time in ages I rolled up the driveway and was not greeted by Sammy! I gingerly got out of the car, careful not to slam the door shut. Looked fore and aft, even under the car. No Sammy. Perhaps it was the muffler noise that attracted him. Bad news is I am kind of worrying about him. I hope he’s alright wherever he is. On the other hand, I walk around the yard on tippy toes expecting him to suddenly appear.

Yarn Rascal has a tick infection. We are going to start the medication routine tomorrow. We give him preventive flea and tick medication monthly so how this came about is something I want answered. Yarn Rascal is very sensitive to all medications so any time we have to go the medication route it’s a bit unnerving. He gets reactions to his normal yearly shots. I’m going to get out his favorite Shetland Yarn and put it in the bed with him. Maybe it will be a lucky charm and we’ll get through the course of meds without any complications.

The blanket I am making my father is here. I nixed the turquoise, he’s just not a turquoise person, and substituted a dark heathered brown. I kept the dark and light greys and the cream. I wanted the blanket to resemble the colors of agates I have seen and admired. The knitting is going nicely. I haven’t hit that point yet where nothing seems to move forward, but I’ve only completed 2 of the 8 strips.

I am going to try taking pictures on my cell phone and uploading them to my computer to see if that is less aggravating than camera to computer. But I suspect it is the photo software I am hating and not the tech items.

As of yesterday, I am officially rooting for winter to arrive. Temperatures of 90 F / 32 C are beyond me unless I’m a cactus.

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Still Alive

All is normal here, that is to say going down the tubes as fast as everything can. I thought I’d just check in to let you know I still live, though the summer cold I caught is now trying to kill me. It defies every natural aide I’ve shared with it. So in an act of desperation I saw a regular doctor on Friday. He agrees it is a cold, wrote some prescriptions, told me to fill them and I should be back doing the funky duck by Sunday. Well…between Friday and Sunday comes Saturday, when the medicines entered my system. A small trip to the hospital because of severe reactions and no funky ducky on Sunday. The cold is still alive and well.

A special thank you to Mollie and Claire. A very special package greeted me on my return from the hospital with the most wonderful and delicious yarn in it. Yarn Rascal was besides himself over it and I couldn’t help but feel he sensed Mollie. He smelled and gently rubbed his face all over the yarn. I am going to post pictures of this wonderful gift, but first this dang computer and I, along with the camera, need to be able to work together nicely. We haven’t quite found that balance yet. (And they want to release Windows 10!! Silicon Valley is filled with sadists.)

I am working on my father’s blanket and need to order more yarn. The yarn counts in the pattern aren’t right. It’s a good pattern, which I will be sharing pictures of as soon as the computer from hell, and the camera and I can all play nicely.

My best new summer friend, or at least I think he’s trying out for the spot, is Sammy. The Snake. For now just let me say he meets me in the driveway, a self-appointed greeter. Some families had butlers greet them when they came home. I have a snake.

This is my life.

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I’m trying out a new life style. One in which states like calm and serene out number frazzled and anxious during a 24 hour period. I tried it yesterday and it almost worked.

Dad is out of the hospital, which is good. However I am still going at things full speed like a person who has no sense. So I decided that while I was working on my list of errands I would practice staying in the moment and keep myself open to the interesting and beautiful things around me. I would take time to breathe easily and enjoy.

I have a cold that just won’t quit and so I went to visit my doctor yesterday. Western medicine and I are slowly but assuredly parting ways, but that’s a whole other rant. I decided to take the scenic route to the doctor’s office. The one that meanders through the small river towns where you can see beautiful glimpses of the river and valley. It went fairly well except for those drivers who were determined to go 60 mph in 30 mph zones. I was determined that they wouldn’t get to me and for the most part I succeeded.

After the doctor I went to my organic food store and serenely pondered over products in the health department. I am in the learning phase of alternative medicine. I don’t want products that will set off my cancer or will interfere with the cancer drug I am taking, so I am proceeding cautiously. I came away with my old favorite Vitamin C. While western medicine puts no faith in Vitamin C helping colds and immune system, I do and it has worked for me before.

I was in a peaceful state when I turned into my driveway and started up the hill. I was planning on going inside, taking a Vitamin C and meditating for 5 minutes. Then I was planning on picking up my knitting and shooting my serenity to smithereens by watching an episode or 3 of Homeland. That show is the bane of my existence, at the moment.

When I got to the top of the drive where I park, I noticed a rather long black stick in the middle of it. I put on the brakes because it really was too straight for a stick and I didn’t want to run over it. I put the car in park and in my serene state opened the door to get out and get a closer look to move whatever it was.

I had one foot on the ground when the stick lifted it’s head and a small black forked tongue wiggled from it’s mouth. I really do not like snakes, though I respect their right to live. It was a black racer snake. Serenity vanished in an instant, my body went rigid, I flung myself backwards into the car, slammed the door and proceeded to scream at the top of my lungs while crouching on the front seat.

Screaming in an enclosed car adversely affects the ear drums. No matter how much I screamed, The Skipper, who was in the house, couldn’t hear me. The snake, who I’ve named Sammy, and I were at a stand still. He wasn’t moving, I wasn’t moving except for my vocal chords and we stayed like that for a bit.

Finally I thought that maybe the car was spooking him. So I turned off the ignition and along with it the air conditioning and waited. I had screamed myself out. Only little whimpers came from my vocal chords. It was another few minutes before Sammy moved on and I could park in my regular spot then run like the wind into the house croaking out the word “snake”.

With my serenity out the window, I nixed the meditation, popped a vitamin C and turned on Homeland. I was finally in the proper frame of mind and emotion to thoroughly enjoy it. In fact it looked rather calming after the stand off with Sammy. So much for my new life style.

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A wildlife weekend was had around here. While I love animals and respect nature, I prefer not to be in close proximity to some of those animals,such as snakes.

Late Friday night, 2 am to be exact, Randi, my little Yarn Rascal, was up and looking for trouble. Still half asleep, figuring he had to go outside, I put on his leash and out into the yard we went. He ate grass, he ran after moths, he walked into a giant spider’s huge nest where the spider fell on him and I, now wide awake, swiped it off.

“Go the bathroom,” I hissed and gave the leash what I thought was an authoritative tug. He chased more bugs through the grass instead. I picked him up, headed for the sliding glass doors of the kitchen and was just about to step through them when I noticed a strange black hose coming out from The Skipper’s grill. I hesitated, Randi started squirming like he was possessed, and I walked though the doors instead, slid them closed and went back to bed.

“There’s a strange hose coming out of your grill,” I said to The Sleeping Skipper. I got no response.

I eventually fell asleep after ruminating about the hose that shouldn’t be where it was. Admittedly I know nothing about grills, and it was this lack of knowledge that kept stopping me from getting up, going out and picking up that strange hose to check it out. Also, Randi had settled by this time and I certainly did not want to wake the sleeping dog.

Somewhere around 5 am I suddenly woke, sat up in bed and screamed “Snake!” The Skipper propelled himself from bed where he had been sleeping on his stomach to running around the bedroom trying to pull on his jeans all in one quick motion and at the age of 70 too. Randi didn’t know what happened so he ran and tried to hide under the pillows.

“It was a snake,” I said. Realizing my sleeping mind had figured it out. It wasn’t a hose at all. I got up and ran from the room into the kitchen. Sneaking up to the glass doors, not wanting to see but wanting to see, I looked and there was no hose where there was a “hose” earlier.

“What are you doing,” The Skipper asked.

I explained about the early outdoors experience. “You’ve got to get the snake out of wherever it is,” I said.

“It’s gone. It’s not around here anymore,” The Skipper said and went back to bed.

But I knew it wasn’t gone. It was somewhere close by and just by the way Fate works in my life, I knew I’d be the one to run into it.

Saturday was going to be finish crocheting the afghan day. Around 2:30 pm I went outside for I don’t know what reason, past some underbrush and froze. My toes curled under, my knees locked. I slowly turned my head and peered into the underbrush and there was the snake curled into a bizarre position. It was maybe 11 feet from where I saw it last. It had got caught up in some ancient deer netting the previous owner had put down many, many years before. With toes curled under (it hurts to walk that way) and knees locked, I used my hip joints to move myself as fast as I could back to the sliding glass doors and into the kitchen.

“Snake!” I screamed once I found my breath again. The Skipper came running up from downstairs. “Snake!” I said pointing out the glass doors. “It didn’t leave! Oh. My. God. Oh. It’s. A. Snakeeeeeeeeee!” At that, Randi stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen with the teal Berroco Twist Yarn hanging out of his mouth. The Skipper was calm. He used to keep snakes as pets when he was a kid.

The Skipper verified that the snake, a Black Racer, was caught up in the deer netting and that he would have to slowly cut the snake loose. “Go do whatever it is you were going to do and don’t watch.”

“You’re going to touch it? It’s gonna bite. Are you nuts? Oh, my God, it can’t stay there.”

“Go. Do something time consuming.”

Needless to say, I should never doubt The Skipper. He has a way with animals, be they domesticated or wild like coyotes, foxes, snakes, birds, fish, woodchucks, chipmunks, squirrels, turkeys, you name it. The next I peeked out the window, The Skipper had the snake laying calmly in his lap and was softly talking to it while gently cutting and removing all the netting it had embedded in its skin. The snake, head turned, chin resting on The Skipper’s thigh watched as the netting came off in bits and pieces. When he was done, The Skipper took the snake to the far corner of the property and released it back into the wild. He said that when he put the snake down, it turned it’s head and looked at him for a minute, and then it slithered off into the woods.

I am glad The Skipper was here to rescue the snake. I may not be fond of them, but they have a right to exist too. I prefer it not be close to me, but I also prefer not to see it die.

The afghan I had planned to work on, still needs to be worked on. Sunday was crickets, and I don’t mean the British game.

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