Ground Beaver Day

     Remember the tongue twister, How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?  Well, no one bothered to tell me when I was little that a woodchuck was actually a groundhog. And a ground hog was also a whistle pig. I think that the tongue twister guy had a hard time with How much wood could a ground hog chuck….. so he gave the critter a new name.

      But, then again, although it does live in the ground, it is not a hog. And I don’t even know what the hell a woodchuck would be. They don’t eat wood and they don’t chuck…which is the same as “upchuck”, right.  And that was just a phrase given to the first kid who ever threw up many years ago…”It’s ok, Chuck, just get it up..Chuck…”  Upchuck. (I made that up.)

  In some parts of the country, the ground hog is called a “land beaver”, which makes sense until you look at a beaver’ s tail. A ground

"How are we going to steal from moose and beaver?"

 hog actually belongs to the group of large ground squirrels called marmots. Think about it. On the cartoon, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Rocky was supposed to be a squirrel. But look at the picture. Rocky is as big as Boris. Squirrels aren’t that big. I’m thinking that Rocky was either a beaver or a groundhog. This is a very important discovery.

 Ground beavers (my new term..use it. Embrace it) usually live only 2-3 years, sometimes up to 6 years in the wild. There was one in captivity that lived for 22 years. It was probably one of the poor things that they used as Puxitawny Phil. The heaviest recorded ground beaver was 31 pounds, which is quite scary.

Although I hold a fascination for all animals, I learned about the ground beaver (See, getting used to that name, aren’t you?), at a very early age. I knew two things. It was bad if you were bitten by one of them, and they don’t come when you call them.

 My grandfather used to live in a stone home at the edge of a pine forest. It reminded me of a fairy tale cottage. I loved visiting that house. My grandfather had a small fruit orchard and on one side of the house was a patio with square cut pieces of colored slate and a bird bath in the middle of it. My grandmother used to get so pissed at Grandpa because when I would visit, he would cut some of the flowers in her flower garden and decorate the pine tree with them. But, the main attraction, was the ground beaver hole on the edge of the patio.

 Grandma wanted to put a hose in the hole and drown the poor creature. Grandpa wouldn’t let

I really don't think he is real.

her. It was his buddy. He named it Gus, which is funny, because in Pennsylvania, it is the character’s name of the “second most famous groundhog in Pennsylvania” for the Pennsylvania lottery. When those commercials would come on, it always reminded me of my grandpa.

   Anywho, I would sit for a very long time, calling for Gus. I had a sweet voice, I don’t know why the hell he wouldn’t come out of his hole. I worried about Gus. Was he getting enough food? Was he lonely? Could he see down there?  My grandpa patiently answered all my questions. It wasn’t the same, however, when I got home. My mom didn’t see things the same way.

  I had asked my dad if I could use his fishing pole. My thought was that I would put a piece of lettuce or apple on a string and lower it down Gus’s hole. And just like a fish, I would reel Gus in when I felt a nibble. I went fishing with my dad enough to know what I was doing. It made so much sense.

“Vickie, who is Gus?……………Grandpa has a pet groundhog?……………..You’ve seen it?……………Vickie, stay away from it. Do you understand me?…….Because if you get bit by a groundhog, you will have to have shots in your stomach for rabies and they will cut the head of the groundhog off and send it away to make sure it doesn’t have rabies……………..How do you know it doesn’t have rabies?…………….It is a wild animal, Vickie………….A hamster doesn’t count…..Because it doesn’t count………………..Because it doesn’t………..You know what? Just go to your room.”

 That’s how it always ended. Except that day I stopped and got the Letter “G” from the World Book Encyclopedia to learn all about groundhogs…(I mean, ground beavers.)  This creature would not bite me.

 Well, I never got to fish for the ground beaver. My mom must have phoned my grandfather.

“Vickie, your mom doesnt want you near Gus, so we can’t go outside when Gus is walking around out there. But, we can watch from

Come on out little fella

 the window.”  He said this in front of my Grandmother, who then walked back into the kitchen. I cried. “But Grandpa, I love Gus.” 

  Over the next year,  I was able to get closer and closer to Gus. Grandpa and I made a secret pact. We would tell no one that we were playing with Gus. I sure loved my Grandpa.  I never got bitten and I didn’t need a fishing pole. We just put food up at the top by his hole and would look out later to see if it was gone.

 So, on this Ground Beaver Day, I would like to pay homage to Gus and then to Mrs. Daegle,  White Hall Willie, Miss Piggy and all the other groundhogs that have dug holes on my property. My husband knew before we built a house in the country that he was never allowed to kill a groundhog. I even made him pinky swear.

 So, whatever you call them, just know, they don’t really answer to you. But, they will answer to a whistle. They will stand up and look around.

I need to re-think this ground beaver moniker. Perhaps a whistle beaver is more fitting.

The West Virginia Hamster Law

   The legal system is so messed up. Stupid laws that were passed years ago by stupid people are still on the books in some states. I had fun reading through some of the ridiculous laws that are enacted in some states:

Minnesota- It is illegal to tease skunks.

Michigan- A woman’s hair legally belongs to her husband.

 In NYC, “it is disorderly conduct for one man to greet another on the street by placing the end of his thumb against the tip of his nose and wiggling the extended fingers of that hand.”

Colorado- One may not mutilate a rock in a state park.

Oklahoma-Whale hunting is strictly forbidden.

 Oxford, Ohio- It is illegal for a woman to disrobe in front of a man’s picture.

Omaha, Nebraska-   If a child burps during a church service, his or her parents may be arrested.

Tennessee- It is illegal to lasso a fish.

I paid  particular attention to West Virginia, since I am a mountaineer.  I do want to mention that West Virginia is not the only state that has stupid laws.  Here are some of the laws that are enacted in our wild and wonderful mountain state:

Roadkill may be taken home for supper.

If any person arrived at the age of discretion profanely curse or swear or get drunk in public, he shall be fined by a justice one dollar for each offense. Ok, to me, this means that you can only get fined $1 if you get drunk in public. Why aren’t more people drinking at public events?  This is very disappointing. Every street party now can be a drunken affair. Just hand a cop a $1 and party away.

(Huntington)- It is legal to beat your wife so long as it is done in public on Sunday, on the courthouse steps.

Unmarried couple who live together and “lewdly associate” with one another may face up to a year in prison. Uh Oh.

(Nicholas County)- No member of the clergy is allowed to tell jokes or humorous stories from the pulpit during a church service. 

 The whole reason I am writing this post is because I would like to enact a new law, nation-wide. This would encompass our neighbor to the north as well. Yes, like a North American law.  And here it is:

* Parents must purchase at least one hamster during their child’s lifetime. 

Ok, wait. I see a loophole.

*Parents must purchase at least one live hamster before their child’s tenth birthday and must raise and feed that hamster in their primary residence for it’s entire life. If a parent conveniently lets the hamster out of its cage and it goes missing or it mysteriously dies before it has lived in said primary residence for less than 6 months, the parents must then buy two hamsters. The same law pertains if the hamster is eaten by the family cat or dog, or if it is accidentally electrocuted or drowned.

Ok, that’s better.

Yes, Wendy, my facebook and  fellow teacher friend, this means you. I read your facebook status about buying your daughter a hamster if she keeps her room clean for a month, when you know darn well she won’t keep it clean for 24 hours. Nice try. My new law would force you to buy a hamster sometime soon.

 I think if I had to go through the hamster experience, everyone should. Children promise to take care of their cute little critter, but they never do. It always falls back on Mom.  I had several hamsters growing up. I never took care of any of them. Oh, I played and loved them, but my mom changed its cage. I had one in college that I named Growl Bear. My fiancee (later husband, later ex-husband) made me give it away before we got married because he didn’t want a rodent in the house. (Even though he, himself, is a member of the rodent family. Well, so said my mom)

We ended up getting several when our kids were little.  Because that’s what parents do. That’s what good parents do. Parents aren’t good parents if they don’t buy their child a hamster. So says famed psychologist and pet store owner, Vladimir Nincompoop.

So, Wendy, I will let you know when you can go buy your brand new hamster as soon as this future bill passes (and I don’t see why it wouldn’t, when we are allowed to pick up animals we hit with our cars and take them home to fix for supper).

Enjoy.

Hi Wendy

White Lipstick

   I was looking at some pictures of myself when I was a freshman in high school and wondered who the hell told me that white lipstick looked good? Maybe it looked good with go-go boots. I don’t know, but it made me think of make-up and the things women go through to look pretty on a daily basis.

 I guess it all started with the Egyptians many years ago. Women used to mix a concoction of soot, almonds, lead, and copper to apply as an eye-liner. They wanted a smokey gray look, and what better than applying soot on your eye-lids. I guess you could just walk over to a fireplace nowadays and just dab some soot around your eyes and then hit the town. Fireplace Smoky Gray by Maybelline.

Queen Elizabeth I wore a white paint that contained lead.  The thought was that the whiter your skin became, the more aristocratic you looked. Only lower class people worked outside and that’s why they had a tan. So, white skin was a sign of wealth and nobility. The stuff they put on their face was poisonous. They used to also wash their face with mercury. It was like the first facial peel. I’m thinking that it peeled more than a layer of your face.

Geisha’s really had white faces. I couldn’t find any reference to poisonous applications, however. So, they were safely using different native materials, although I imagine it took forever to prepare a geisha face.

 Then along came Coco Chanel and everything changed. For years, pale women wear beautiful. After that, everyone wanted to be sun-kissed. Tans were in. It didn’t mean you worked outside and were a lower class citizen. Now it meant that you could afford wintering in Florida or summer vacations. Tan meant wealth.

 In the,19 70′s, many women decided that women should be beautiful without make-up. A natural look was what women achieved. You didn’t want to look like you were wearing makeup. Even lipstick color took a more subtle look. Then, manufacturers decided to give a healthy glow for the day, more makeup for the evening. So, then, women began buying more makeup for different occasions.

 But, then Tammy Faye Baker came into view and her industrial strength mascara. Which really should have been waterproof, but you know, whatever. Poor thing. She would make fun of herself. She was never allowed to wear make-up when she was little, so she decided that she would REALLY wear it when she got older. I’m surprised she could keep her eyes open.

 Which brings me to the present. A lot of women have decided that they want permanent makeup. Tattoo face. Are we that lazy?  

And then others are having plastic surgery to change the whole look of their face. And then they put makeup on top of it. It makes me remember a Twilight Zone episode where a girl has a surgery to look like everyone else on the planet. It was called, “Eye of the Beholder.”

Many stars have become unrecognizable because of plastic surgery and botox.

 

               And I was worried about looking silly with a little bit of white lipstick. I’m now thinking I looked pretty cool.

Rats!

 After watching the video of the rat running amok on a subway train, it made me a bit nostaligic.

 It took me back to my college days. The year I lived in a dump. I lived across the street from the college in a house that was divided into two apartments. I lived in the top story with my two roommates, Kathy and Ann. The apartment had three bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. There was no living room. When you walked into the house, you had to walk up the steps. There was a “wall” right beside the stairs, that cut off the downstairs apartment. It honestly just looked like a sheet of ply wood or cheap paneling nailed somewhere to look like a wall. You could press on it and it would move.

 The downstairs apartment was vacant, I believe. I think the landlady’s son stayed there once in a while, but we never hear anything coming from that apartment. Oh, there was noise, but it wasn’t from a human. Although, if you saw the her creepy son, you would probably wonder.

 One night soon after we moved in, and I was all finished painting over the hot pink walls in my room, I heard Kathy scream. Seems that when she walked into the hall from her room to go into the kitchen, there was a rat sitting on the kitchen table. Well, isn’t that special?

 Now, you probably know by now if you have been reading along that I love animals. I think the only thing that really bother me are cockroaches and flies. Flies leave little maggot babies behind and cockroaches=dirty home. Well, that’s what my mom instilled in me. When I was married, we had an ant problem every year. There would be a line of ants coming from the fireplace, across the carpet, into the kitchen, and picking up crumbs on the floor to take back for their ant feast.

 So, knowing there was a rat on our kitchen table was not good. If I lived in a really nice home, I wouldn’t be so grossed out. I know that makes no sense, but this rat was a college sewer-lovin smelly infectious rat. But, I still didn’t want to set a trap to kill it. I told my roommates there was no way I wanted to put out poison, because it would just eat it, die under one of our beds and then its smelly corpse would ferment and make us sick. The place was a dump. I am sure there were dead things throughout the house. Ann scrubbed the kitchen table. I looked at her and said, “Maybe he sleeps in your bed while you are in class.” She changed her sheets and in the morning I saw where she had the bed made up so tightly, an army sargeant would have been proud. Her bedroom door was shut. I laughed because, she also put a couple of towels in front of the door to keep Templeton out. (Yes, I named him Templeton after the rat in Charlotte’s Web.)

 We called our landlord, but sometimes she would pretend she didn’t understand English. She was Italian and personally came on the first of the month to collect from us. She reminded me of a gypsy. Not that I had seen any, but that’s what she reminded me of.  We told her of the rat problem and she said that there were no rats in any of her rental units. “I have no rats.” she simply said, snatching our checks on the way out.

 Well, it was up to us. I came up with an idea. We knew that the rat had run down the stairs when Kathy screamed. So, it had to come from between the paneling and the stairs. So, brain here thought that if we put food at the bottom of the steps that the rat would eat it, get full, and then go to sleep and not come upstairs. That made such sense.

 Well, the only thing we really had in the apartment that evening was bread and potatoes. So, we put about 3 pieces of bread and one potato on the bottom of the staircase and went to bed. I was the first one up in the morning, and rushed to the top of the stairs. Uh Oh. Borrowing a quote from the movie, Jaws, I yelled out, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” (Jaws came out in 1975, so that was a very popular line for a long time afterwards. My rat experience took place in 1978.)

 The three pieces of bread AND the potato were gone. That was a big potato. The first thing I thought of was that there are either more than one rat, or if he doesn’t like the potato, the whole place is going to smell like rotten potatoes. We had to think up another idea. While we were thinking, I believe several more bread and poatoto nights went by. I think Kathy added some Bugles one night. Everything was always gone in the morning.

 Enter my new boyfriend, (then later husband), Jay. He told me that his sister has a great mouser, named, Sam, who happened to be the biggest bad-ass cat in the county. He thought that he would bring Sam down, let him stay a few nights in the apartment, and see if he could catch the rat.  Sam was big and menacing and looked like the proverbial alley cat.

 Well, that night, I heard Sam meowing. He was sitting on the stairs, looking down between the wall and the staircase. He knew where the rat was coming from. Smart bad-ass cat. I couldn’t wait to see if he would catch the rat.

 Well, better be specific when you wish for something.  I woke up and that cat was sleeping right beside me. Awwww. I know he was probably had fleas and rat chunks on his claws, but he looked so cute sleeping with me. We never had cats when I was growing up. Just dogs. Seeing Sam sleeping snug up against me made me want to keep him.

 Sam must have liked me too. Because he brought me a present.

The rat on the cat

Under his arm was the dead rat. I’m not sure, but I think Sam had been chewing a bit on its head. 

I slept with a rat.  How many people can say that?

Mr. Sock Puppet

Ever since I was little, I have loved watching ventriloquists. They amaze me. I’m lucky if I can walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone learn to talk without moving my lips AND talking as myself back and forth. I just think that it is such a talent. Jeff Dunham is a talented ventriloquist, but there was one years ago who is one of my favorite performers: Senor Wences.

 Senor Wences was a frequent performer on the Ed Sullivan Show. I used to sneak out of my bed and watch the show from around the corner of our living room. I always got caught, because I used to laugh out loud at one point during his segment of the show.

“Vickie, go to bed……………No, you can’t watch Senor Wences………..because it is late……………..Vickie, I know you are still there. Go to bed………No, you don’t sound just like him.Go to bed…………No, you can’t perform a skit for us. It is late……..Vickie………Do you want me to get the belt? Go to bed.”

  Any mention of the belt got me going. She never wanted to hear my ventriloquist routine.  She stifled my inner ventriloquist.

 Senor Wences was Spanish, so I loved his accent before he even brought out any of his characters. My favorite was Johnny, who was just a face drawn on Senor Wences’s hand. Oh, my, did I have ink on my hands often when I was about 9 or 10. I practiced being a ventriloquist, but I sucked. Another character was Pedro, who was basically a head in a box. Senor Wences would open the box to ask Pedro, “S’right?” Pedro would answer, “S’right.” Everyone during that time period used that saying. It was great tv.

 When I got older, I watched a movie called, “Magic,” starring  Anthony Hopkins. I couldn’t wait to see the movie. I went on a date with my future boyfriend, husband, ex-husband, and found out that we had ventriloquism in common. He received a ventriloquist dummy for Christmas one year when he was young. Wow. I was sure this was true love. Well, we went to see the movie. Scared the hell out of me. I was 21 at the time, and not aspiring to be a ventriloquist any longer. After watching that movie, ventriloquist dummies creeped me out. Badly. I can’t even look at them.

Years later, when I became a mother, I was finally able to perform for my children. I painted my hand and did a Senor Wences skit, but by mistake, invented a new performer, “Mr. Sock Puppet.” I put an old sock on my hand, and Voila! A puppet was born. Who thought an old sock could provide so much enjoyment?  It was the first time I heard my little girl cackle. She had the best little laugh in the world. Still does. Mr. Sock Puppet was a success. Of course, Adam called it, “Mr. Sock Puppy,” which made it even more special.

 ”Wake up, Mr. Sock Puppy……….Are you sleeping?……….WAKE UP!…….”  And then they would laugh quite hard. It was a great mommy moment.

A woman with a sock on her hand. Life was good.

Kill the Family, Save the Rabbit

    I think that I am a good driver. I am a defensive driver. I always try to be aware of my surroundings.  I am a deer dodger. My ex-husband, on the other hand, managed to hit 11 deer…so far. One evening, he and my son, Adam, took a drive in his 1977 MGB. Imagine my expression when I saw the car limp back down the drive-way, total destruction….and deer feces and fur on the right side of the car. A deer had jumped onto the car from a hillside that hugged the narrow, country road. Adam was lucky he wasn’t killed.  I was just curious when I asked if the deer was ok. I guess I should have waited to pose that question. My husband’s “I could wring your little neck” look  was sufficient. His little piss ant of a car was almost totaled.

 I think my then husband wasn’t a very good defensive driver.  Haha..Wait. Did I say, “think?”  I KNOW my ex wasn’t a good defensive driver. After all, his nickname is Magoo. (See previous blog, Mr. Magoo on Crack.) He doesn’t watch what may be going on on the sides of the road. Or on the road, for that matter. I do. I have avoided countless deer collisions, and I owe it to my uber scanning ability. This past summer, I killed many butterflies. I don’t know what the hell was going on this summer, but the butterflies decided that they needed to fly back and forth across the road. You can’t brake for flying flitters.

 That made me wonder where the hell all the bugs went.  Bugs used to splat across windshields left and right when I was little.  They would be all over the headlights. And then there were the smashed frogs. Remember how frogs would become paper thin from being ran over again and again? We used to pick them up and throw them at each other when they were nice and hard, after being on the road for a few days. When was the last time you saw a smashed frog on the road?

 I have been known to pull over to the side of the road to pick up box turtles. They are so slow. They don’t have a chance. Chipmunks and squirrels, on the other hand,  are indecisive, and that usually leads them to their demise. They will dart into the middle of the road, pause, and just when you think they will zig, they zag. I think chipmunks and squirrels suffer from ADHD. If they were fed ritalin,  I bet they would calmly figure out that an oncoming car equals death.

 Groundhogs really shouldn’t be hit. They are so big. You can see them eating leftovers in the middle of the road. Yes, it is true, that they stray a little too close to the road, but I think they are avoidable for the most part. I remember years ago, there was a dead groundhog lying on the side of the road, on his back. Some smart alec made it a point to stop, and put a beer can under its rigor-mortised arms. What’s worse, is that I looked at it.

 The other day a teacher told me that she ran over a deer’s foot on the way to work. I knew exactly what she was talking about. There was a dead deer on the side of the road and its poor little hooves were lying on the road. I went over into the other lane to avoid that unhappy sound. All the deer in North America live on the stretch of road I drive each day.

 One day, years ago, when my kids were small, and I was driving, a rabbit darted out in front of my car. I braked, and the little fellow continued his dart across the road. His death was averted because of my quick reaction time. I guess it made my back seat

A very small deer

passengers feel a little uneasy. “Great, Mom! Kill the family and save the rabbit!” Adam yelled.  I don’t think my sudden braking gave him whiplash or anything?  Wasn’t he thankful I didn’t kill poor Hippity Hop?  I took a hard look at my perturbed back seat dweller.  I wondered if he would ever brake for an animal.  I will call him right now and ask him…….brb…………………………………………………………….Ok, good. He apparently just braked for one today and has spared many animals of an untimely death.  Good. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. (He could have ended up like Magoo, but his tree has no fruit.)

 In the end, I think it is possible to be a good driver and also save little critters’ lives. Maybe we should all plaster “I brake for animals” stickers on the  bumpers of our cars.

 I’m thinking ritalin-fed chipmunks and squirrels would then know which cars to stay away from.