The Fish Pond

Now With More Color! And Indignation!

First, I told you it would darken fabulously. It's still got a way to go, but here's the current pastel version:

I personally like the lovely olivey green color. Note also the lovely mosquito bite on the left there. Fun!

Two days ago the mailman knocked on our door to deliver a couple of packages. He likes to do this rather than just leave them in the door, mostly because 3/4 of the time they are legos for Little Man who gets all excited about the mail, so the mailman likes to give him a little fun. Anyway, he handed the packages to Little Man and said "Guess what I just saw? A black bear." No surprise there.

What was a surprise was that the mailman was filling the mailboxes one row of townhouses away (for those who don't know, there's a big box at the start of every other row of townhouses that has all the boxes for the houses in both those rows. We all have to walk down a row to the box to get our mail. Kinda like the lobby of an apartment building, but with more weather.) and he said the bear came out of the woods, walked RIGHT BEHIND HIM DOWN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET and went into the small wooded area in front of the houses WHERE OUR PLAYGROUND IS. The bear was completely unconcerned that the mailman was standing there watching him as he waddled down the road, in broad daylight, right in the middle of a townhouse development.

This concerned me. Most wildlife doesn't bother me in the slightest; in fact, that's part of the appeal of living here. We've had bear sightings before in the almost 20 years that this neighborhood has existed, but they were just that - sightings. One shot, and the bear was gone. Never have we had one this bold, one who keeps coming back and who obviously isn't perturbed by people. He's obviously well fed, too.

So I decided to call the Department of Natural Resources, who usually handles these things. I told the woman about all the bear encounters I know about and asked what they do. Well, in a word, nothing. She told me to lock up the trash, put all birdfeeders away, do whatever we have to do to eliminate the food source. I was silent for a second, then I attempted to explain that this is a townhouse neighborhood. It has 150 houses, lots of kids, lots of pets. The likelihood of getting all those houses to lock up their trash when only maybe 20% have sheds in which to lock them is pretty slim, not to mention that our trash has to be out to the curb by 7am on Mondays and Thursdays and what are we supposed to do then? Not put our trash out until the garbage truck comes? Take every Monday and Thursday off so we can wait for them? Obviously this bear isn't confining his food searches to nighttime. She said he's an adolescent looking for girl bears, and when he figures out there are no girl bears here and the food source is gone, he'll move on. I reminded her that I just explained that the food source is going to be there and it really isn't feasible to remove it. She didn't say anything. I said "You really don't do ANYTHING? We don't want the bear hurt, we want it to have a happy life, but we really don't want a kid or pet to be hurt." She told me again the whole shpiel about locking up the trash and putting away birdfeeders. I angrily thanked her and hung up.

Today I had planned to try the county animal control office, but I talked to my neighbor, also a mother with small kids, and she called them when she first saw the bear months ago. They told her to call the Department of Natural Resources. And we know how that went. So I didn't call, and instead posted to our neighborhood playgroup about the bear and the natural resources call, and asked for input about any other bear sightings in the neighborhood. Only my neighbor called me, and I already knew about her sighting. So far I haven't heard from anyone else. I'll wait until Monday, and then try calling the county again.

I am really concerned about the fact that this bear doesn't appear to be fearful of humans. I am worried it is going to take a kid or animal getting hurt before anyone will do anything about it. It's ridiculous that we need to be worried about letting our kids go play in the front yard or ride their bikes up and down the street because of a bear that is somewhere he doesn't belong. It's not like this is a rural, mountainous area that's his natural habitat; this is the DC metro suburbs. Sexual predators? Sad, but sure. Traffic going too fast? You betcha. Carjackers? Yep. Bears? Not so much.

Anyone got any ideas? I'm all ears.

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I also worry about how much I yell. Check it out at DC Metro Moms Blog.

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Believe it or not, I also sometimes find time to scrapbook. Find out how here.

Wildlife Abounds

Not five minutes after BigDaddyFish and my wonderful neighbor finished carrying our old stove out to the curb so that the county recycling folks can pick it up, BDF stood on our deck frantically tapping on a window to get our attention. The baby started screaming for Daddy, but nobody went out to see what he wanted, so after about a full minute I finally strolled out.

"SHHHHH! Look over there," BDF whisper-shouted. "Get them to be quiet!"

"What's going on?" I whisper-shouted back. He answered with a point to the edge of the woods.

"Black bear."

And indeed it was. A medium-sized, probably adolescent black bear was wandering nonchalantly behind the row of townhouses next door to ours. I summoned Trout and Little Man, and we stood at the rail of our deck, fascinated. I ran for the camera, but in the 15 seconds or so that I was gone the bear...disapparated transfigured disappeared completely.

"Give me that - I'll get the picture," said BDF as he took the camera from me and dashed down our steps and a couple of steps back into the woods. He stopped, crouched down, looked around. He took a few steps left, and kept looking.

After about three minutes of watching my husband skulk through the woods and fielding my children's queries of "Is Daddy going to die?" "What if the bear eats him?" "What if the bear crashes through the windows?" (my kids watch entirely too much tv, obviously), I got sick of waiting for him and went in the house. The kids gave up about 30 seconds later.

"What'sa matter, didn't want to see me die?" asked my husband as he came in the house about five minutes later. My husband clearly watches too much tv, too.

"No, I could just tell that you weren't having any luck and got bored." We marvelled for a while at the fact that the bear just disappeared. He moved amazingly fast and quietly for a bear.

"If I only had about three other people I could bag it," said BDF.

"What?!? I don't want the bear to get killed," I said.

"No, I mean get its picture." Okay, I apparently watch too much tv, too.

So there's a bear in the neighborhood. I had heard my neighbors talk about it, but this is the first time we've actually seen it. It's such a surprising thing, because this is a townhouse neighborhood. For all that I live in the woods on the edge of a park, this is still the DC metro area. It is incredibly populated. If the part of the county where I live ever decided to incorporate, we'd become the second largest city in Maryland after Baltimore. We had an estimated 85,000 people in 2005. Our townhouse development has more than 150 houses, and although we have the woods and lake out back, we are smack in the middle of surburbia. There are major roads and buildings and schools and stuff within spitting distance. Even the lake and the park get a huge amount of human traffic every single day.

I feel bad for this bear - he clearly is eating enough (in fact, BDF thinks he came near the houses because he smelled our trash cans - more about that in a bit), but I don't think he's going to have much success mating here in the neighborhood. He shows the right amount of fear of humans, and I don't worry much about any of us people having a run in with him. We residents have known about him for a while now, and none of us let our kids out without an adult being nearby (well, except me - but then again I actively encourage my kids to play in traffic), so I don't think him being around is a safety issue. Animal control has been called before and they could never find him (I tell you, he transfigures), so I'm unsure how to go about getting him relocated someplace more ... beary. That's a task for tomorrow.

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Being on the edge of the woods and the lake, we see our fare share of wildlife: Squirrels, chipmunks, snakes, birds (including bald eagles), large numbers of deer (because they don't allow hunting here, our herds are HUGE), foxes, and racoons. Ah, the racoons. There isn't a single resident here that hasn't had their trash cans raided by the racoons on a fairly regular basis. We've tried all the tricks, but the only way to keep them out is to lock up the trash cans inside some sort of structure, which makes taking the trash out a bit more of an adventure than one might think.

Some of the racoons are more timid than others, and some are more easily scared off than others. Periodically over the nine years we've lived here a racoon will show up for a while, eventually we'll catch them in the act of scavenging through our trash and chase them off with a broom, and they go away. Then a few months will go by and the next crew will move in (or the old crew gets ballsy and tries to come back - how long is the life span of a racoon, anyway?).

For the past week or so we've had a racoon getting in our trash, but it hasn't made a big mess, not even knocking the can over but just ripping the lid off and dining in the can. Early Saturday morning I was reading in my bedroom when I heard what sounded like a combination growl/scream, and heard the telltale knocking around the racoons do when they get into the trash. The growl/scream was weird enough that BDF came running down from our loft as I jumped up to kill the lights and try to see what was going on outside. I stayed in the bedroom and BDF ran down to the kitchen. He hit the lightswitch outside, and we discovered not one, but two adolescent racoons raiding our trash. One was rather daintily standing on the deck next to the can, and the other was perched atop the old oven that BDF and I had dragged out there because I didn't want two ovens in my kitchen for a week. At first I thought they were fighting over the trash can, but as I watched it looked to me like they were in cahoots. I opened the window and said "Go away!" out the window as loud as I dared at 1 am, and the dainty one skedaddled over the rail to my neighbor's deck. The one on top of the oven simply looked at me and climbed into the trash can to eat his fill. As he started to dine I hissed at him, like a cat, and he stopped and stared up at me. I didn't blink. He started to eat and I hissed again. Three times he started to eat, I hissed, he stopped and stared at me, but he didn't move. After the third time BDF burst out the door armed with the broom, and would you know that ballsy racoon didn't even flinch? So BDF bopped it on the back with the broom, at which time it decided it was time to go and ran off into the woods.

Last night they got their revenge by actually knocking the can over and making a bigger mess. So we're back to locking up the cans again. And before you start telling us all the racoon deterrent tricks you know, we've tried bricks on the can lids, bungy cords on the can lids, and a whole host of other things to keep them out - nothing works short of locking the things away. These are wiley little buggers.

But thanks to the particularly stinky trash due to it being torn open, eaten a bit, and repackaged a couple of times, BDF thinks the bear was attracted to our trash and was coming to eat it. He said the bear was right in the middle of the green space between our townhouse and our neighbor's (we have end units) and was startled by BDF. At 5:30 pm on a summer evening. BDF also told me that the top hinge on our gate at the top of our stairs has been broken off, and we suspect the bear had come up here before and its weight broke the hinge. We kinda like having a bear out back, but on our deck is a little too close for comfort.

When We Did the Boo'ing, Plus a Poem For All You We've Been Boo'd Visitors

So last week we finally got our baskets together and set out to "Boo" our neighbors. Trout had spent an inordinate amount of time drawing pictures for the victims to put up in their windows, but they were lovely and creative masterpieces and I didn't have the heart to stop her. It also took forever for me to type up the poem to go in the scroll, but I eventually did it and you can find it here. Plus going to the dollar store to get goodies to go in the baskets is never easy with at least  2 kids, but we did it.

We set out about 8:30 pm, nice and dark and really pretty near bedtime for most people, including my kids. The first victim was the girl who was my mother's helper this past summer, who we don't really get to see too much anymore because she started middle school. We discussed the strategy before we set out: Trout put the sign on the door, I carried and put the basket down on the steps, Little Man rang the doorbell, and Sunny just crept about noisily, whispering at the top of her lungs stealthily. We scattered back to our house, about 3 doors away. So far, so good. We went back in the house to discuss our strategy for the next house, friends of Little Man's and Trout's who live down the street, about half a block away. This time, Little Man taped the sign and Trout rang the doorbell. Sunny and I kept our previous roles.

Unfortunately, we got about two houses away when our first victims came out on their porch to look around to see who left the basket. I'm sure it wasn't too much of a giveaway as we crept down the street with the subtlety of a herd of elephants with an identical basket filled with goodies. Yay, us!

We did the same thing at the other neighbor's house, and then came home. We never went back out to see if they got it or not, as we were afraid of discovery. It didn't matter. The girl recognized Trout's handwriting on her lovely sign.

So! Lessons for you when you go Booing:

1. When possible, use a computer to make the "We've Been Boo'd" signs. Or, have an adult do the actual writing so that the handwriting isn't a giveaway.
2. Wait a fair amount of time, at least 20 minutes, between hits, or don't Boo a house too close to your own.
3. Leave the herd of elephants at home. Or tape their mouths shut. Duct tape works nicely for this, or so I've heard.

Of course, this all assumes you don't want to be discovered. We still haven't discovered the identity of our Neighborhood Phantom, and frankly, I like that just fine.

Have You Been Boo'd?

Last night, while I was talking to my sister on the phone, the doorbell rang. It was weird because it was after dark, we were quick getting ready to put the kids to bed, and we certainly weren't expecting anyone. BigDaddyFish and the two bigs scrambled out the door to find a sign taped to our door with "We've Been Boo'd!" on it, complete with ghosty print and image, and a basket sitting on our doorstep. No source to such items was seen.

They brought the basket in the house, and in it we found a Halloween themed cake mix, frosting, card making kit, a set of two little hand towels with ghosts on them, a package of 15 glow bracelets, and a scrolled up poem, explaining that the neighborhood Phantom had struck, and instructing us to Boo two of our neighbors in the next 24 hours.

The kids are just tickled trying to figure out who boo'd us; I have my suspicions, but no concrete evidence.

Evidently, this is something that neighbors sometimes do to one another, and frankly if I wasn't days behind in reading posts I would have known precisely what this was, thanks to Melissa, instead of being rather puzzled, but in a good way. We've lived here for 8 years and this has never happened to us before. One of the things I have always liked about my neighborhood is its sense of community, which really is sometimes difficult to find in the DC area, since people here are frequently transient. We've seen dozens of neighbors come and go, with relatively few being here as long as we have. It's hard to get to know people very well, and our neighborhood has more than 150 townhouses in it; when you account for all kinds of different stages in life and schedules, it's a wonder that we know the people we do. That said, it's a nice neighborhood and, except for our two rental houses that seem to attract Animal House rejects (seriously, we think we had an internet porn ring being run out of one of them for a while), it is full of good people. Like whoever Boo'd us.

We won't be able to reciprocate in 24 hours (I have to wonder if the people who Boo'd us really know us very well, because they would have known we couldn't pass it on in 24), but by the end of the weekend, two of our neighbors will be Boo'd the FishFamily way. What way that is, exactly, I don't know yet, but we'll figure it out. Trout already hand-drew two "We've Been Boo'd" signs to go on people's houses, and I'll hit the dollar store this weekend, and drag out my rubber stamps so we can create a cool package.

I sure am going to miss this place when we move.

Edited to add: We eventually did our own Booing - find out about the results here, complete with the Neighborhood Phantom poem for your own use. Enjoy!

Thrills, Spills, and Bills

Once upon a time, just before 2 pm on a hot summer's day, a young old average age mother went into her basement to do some of the never ever ending piles of filthy laundry that her family of 6 produces on a daily basis. When she walked into her utility room, she found a large puddle of water on the floor.

"That's odd, the washer must have leaked," thought the woman. But as she examined the washer and dryer, she discovered, much to both her delight and chagrin, that the problem was not, in fact, a leak from either of those machines. The puddle was too big, and ran along the wall between the machines and the hallway.

She tentatively stepped into the hallway along the wall that backs up to the laundry machines, and her bare feet found that the carpet was soaked. She left dark footprints everywhere she stepped.

"Not good. So, not good," she thought. Then she opened the door to the closet containing the air conditioner, the furnace, and the water heater. She knew that the previous year her air conditioner had frozen and melted all over the floor, and with trepidation she examined the one-year-old unit to see if that was the source of the leak.

"Actually, this water is.....warm. Too warm, even for DC in this weather," she thought. That's when she noticed it.

The steady drip, drip, drip from the bottom of the water heater.

"Shit. Goddamn it. Shit." she muttered.

She wandered over to her rotary phone and called her husband.

"Shoot," he answered.

"Water heater," she responded.

"Shit," he said.

"That's what I said," she said.

"How bad?"

"Sorta, well, kinda, um, bad."

"Is there two inches of water all over the basement?" he asked.

"Well, no, I think I found it quickly," she said.

"Okay, call, um, whew, uh...call a plumber," he said, deciding that his parents were just too far away to respond effectively to this crisis.

"Do you have one in mind?" she asked.

"Nope, just pick someone," he advised, then hung up the phone.

So the woman wandered into the utility room again and shut off the water to the whole house, since she didn't know how to shut off just the water heater, pulled out her trusty yellow pages, and began skimming through hundreds of ads for plumbers that service her town. On and on they went, kinda like the drip, drip, dripping of the water in the basement.

"Hmmm, who do I pick? Someone who can come fast. Someone who stocks the materials I need. Someone who can service gas lines without blowing up my house or filling it with carbon monoxide. Someone trustworthy, someone who won't rip me off, oh, and someone who takes credit cards," she thought.

"Germantown Plumbing" the ad said. "That's close by," she mused.

So the woman called the Germantown Plumbing people, explained the problem, and asked how quickly they could come. The nice older gentleman took her information and told her that he would call his son to see how quickly he could come and would call back.

15 minutes later the son called, saying he'd be there in 10 minutes.

He was there 5 minutes later.

He hooked up what is essentially a super-long length of garden hose and drained the tank, then shut off the water to the tank so that the family could at least have cold water and wouldn't have to resort to bathroom functions in the woods out back. It was a townhouse development, after all, even if it was on the edge of a forest.

He arranged with the woman that he would return the following morning with a brand-spanking new water heater, bigger than the one that died. He noted that the one that died was built in 1987.

No showers were taken that night. Or the next morning.

The man called to say he would be later than he had anticipated. He showed up when his call said he would. He installed the new water heater quickly, almost entirely while the woman was gone picking up her kids. She paid him and he left on his merry way.

By the numbers:

1 20-year old, 40-gallon water heater craps out, leaves an inch of water on the floor and soaking the carpet, necessitating cutting another piece out of the carpet (that was already cut up when the damn pipe broke a year ago) to dry the basement out

1 brand spanking new 50-gallon water heater, installed, less than 24 hours after the original leak was discovered

$725. Installed. Bargain.

If you're in the area and need a plumber, call Germantown Plumbing. Seriously.

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Over the weekend the wonderful Carmen awarded me a Rockin' Girl Blogger award. I am touched and a little bewildered as to how in the heck she thinks I handle life situations better than she does. She's my inspiration on how to handle things a full 85% of the time, so either she's being incredibly nice or we're both probably royally screwed. Anyway, I'm passing it on to these fine women:

Angi, who has 4 just like I do (seriously, 2 girls, 2 boys, about the same ages as mine, just different order) and who handles life with grace and a strong sense of faith that I admire

Summer, who has the most adorable little boy, a hot husband, strong work ethic and faith, a bod to kill for, and some really funky shoes

Jen, because she's wicked funny and her blog title is something I shout at least 3 times a day

Julia, who I have been reading since forever and who has the strength of 10,000 of the mightiest women you can think of, is damn smart and a wickedly good writer, to boot

Ree, because you know that fantasy you had when you were little about living out west, where the sky is big and the horses roam and the cattle do what cattle do and you are married to a hunky cowboy? Well, she lives it - every day

So there you have it! Thanks Carmen, for making my stats go up for a few days and for thinking some part of me is cool - I am so looking forward to meeting you IRL later this month. Ladies, enjoy your bling bling, and every one else - Go. Read them. You won't be disappointed.

Up next: a cool pregnancy book, the story of the 65% tip, and the injury report. I wear myself out just thinking sometimes.

The Skeevy Guy

About six weeks to two months ago, Trout and Little Man were playing down at their friends' house, which is in the next row of townhouses from ours.  It was hot outside, so I was hiding my pregnant self in the house, but with my big windows in the front of the house I can see the kids.  They do a lot of running back and forth between the two houses, and their mom and I just keep an eye on them as needed - they do a lot of in and out in both houses, too, so we usually have a good handle on where they are.

The girls had been doing chalk drawings on the sidewalk in front of our house and a bit in front of the open space next to our house.  Around 6 pm one evening on a beautiful, sunny, but hot, day, I got Sunny up from her nap and we were getting ready to walk down to get the big kids when I saw this guy walking up the street.  He had on some sort of khaki-ish pants, like the blue collar version of what business casual guys wear to the office (BigDaddyFish used to wear these a lot when he was landscaping), and a shirt that evoked the aura of a concert shirt, but wasn't.  He wore hiking boot sneakers, a hooded sweatjacket with the sleeves pushed up (a bit odd since it was so hot - it WAS August in DC, after all), and an odd sort of leather pouch on a leather string around his neck, kind of reminicent of what you'd see people keep weed in during the 60's and 70's.  He had long black hair, smooth and sleek, held back in a pony tail, and he was clean shaven.  He carried a knapsack on his back with loose straps, and a feather in each hand.  As he walked he twirled the feathers in an odd sort of figure eight pattern.  He appeared to be walking without purpose.  I had never seen him in our neighborhood before, and I usually have a good handle on who lives in our neighborhood since there's only one way in and out, and we are bordered by water on three sides.

He ambled up the sidewalk, and as I watched, he stopped on the sidewalk in front of my house, and looked down at all the chalk drawings my kids had made.  He twirled around a couple of times, walked back and forth, and kinda hopped around as though doing hopscotch, which WASN'T something the kids had drawn, all the while twirling his feathers.  He took a couple of steps up the sidewalk toward my steps and front door, and I thought he was going to come to the door, but he didn't.  I came out the doorway to walk with Sunny to get the other kids, and the guy looked up at me and said "Hi - I like your daughter's artwork."  Something about that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. 

I said thank you, and he turned and continued up the street, toward the other house.  Sunny and I followed him at a short distance, the equivalent of half a city block away.  When we reached our mailbox, I saw another neighbor of ours, the boy who cuts our grass, who is a sophomore or junior in HS, and his mother.  I asked if they knew or had seen the guy before, and they said they'd seen him walking by out of the neighborhood, going to the bus stop.  They thought he rented one of the houses on "the circle" which wouldn't surprise me (half of our neighborhood is shaped a bit like a figure eight, with a larger circle on the bottom, which I live on, and a smaller circle up top, which is at the end of the next row of townhouses from ours - the Circle has 3 rows of about eight houses each on it, and a bunch of those are rental units, a lot more than the rest of the neighborhood).  I told the other kids' mother about this, and she and I agreed to keep an eye on the guy, and not let the kids go back and forth without being directly supervised. 

A couple of days ago when another neighbor and I were talking about the body in the car, she started talking about the weird homeless guy who walks around the neighborhood.  I asked "What homeless guy?"  Turns out, it's the skeevy guy.  She said she used to see him around a lot back around ten years ago, but then he disappeared for a long time.  He is apparently back, not renting a house, but living in the woods around our development.  Skeevy. Guy.  Lives.  In.  Our.  Woods.

The idea that this guy has been watching my kids and their friends scares me.  The idea that he could have been watching ME scares me too, but not quite as much.  We tend to be rather, um, lackadaisical about nudity at night around here, since our bedroom windows face the woods, and for anyone to see anything they'd either have to be a on a boat in the middle of the lake with binoculars, or else in the 25 feet of woods between the house and the lake, and unless you are in a tree you wouldn't see much except during the winter, when you yourself would be awfully obvious.  I always figured if someone was going through that much effort to get a peek at a short, fat, frumpy broad in the nude they deserved a peek or two for their efforts.

Not anymore.

I make sure the shades are down or that I'm covered all the time.  I don't let the kids stand in front of the windows.  I don't let Trout out to play with her friends without more strict supervision.  I won't let them go play behind the houses, by the woods.

I hate being that way.  It's probably nothing - he's probably a harmless homeless guy who is a little mentally off.  Or your mild-mannered hippie pothead who has no place to stay.  BDF has suggested he can talk to him and decide if the guy is prone to doing harm; I'm not so sure about that, but he's welcome to try.  I just can't take the chance that one day he won't snap and disappear with one of my girls, or one of my sons, for that matter, or any other little kid.  Someone has suggested I go to the police about him, but really, he hasn't done anything, so what can they do?  Not much.  Since the woods are park property, I'm pretty sure the park police would have to be the ones to "evict" him, and they don't have the resources to be doing that kind of thing.  Besides, if he is harmless, I don't really have a problem with him living in the woods - I feel sorry for him.  I am torn between wanting to help him, to give him food and blankets and supplies, but at the same time not wanting to build up a trust level as far as my kids are concerned.

I don't know what to do.

We Really DO Live in a Safe Neighborhood

Wednesday about 4 pm, Trout, Little Man and I left the house to take Trout to ballet, and for both of them to attend the sibling class at the hospital after ballet.  Trout had taken the sib class before Sunny was born, but Little Man wasn't old enough then.  With the issues he's been having about being worried that we won't love him anymore after the baby comes (which we are addressing), I figured the class might help him some, and Trout went along so he wouldn't feel too uncomfortable (he can get shy in new situations).

So, we're driving down our street, and we get maybe 1/2 mile, maybe, down the street when we are stopped in our tracks by the presence of about 5 police cars, all on our side of the road, parked in a semi circle with the yellow tape run between them.  There were about 10 officers walking around carefully, some talking on cell phones, some just looking around.  They were surrounding two cars parked on the side of the road that have been there for ages - months.  The cars weren't crashed, there were no new cars there, just those two, and the police skulking around looking....odd.  Unfortunately nobody was directing traffic, so it took us a good 10 minutes to get around the incident, as the middle school a block away had just let out for their post-school activities and there was a lot of traffic.  A little further down I saw a bunch of landscaping equipment, including one of those big, expensive mowers, scattered about AND COMPLETELY UNATTENDED.  Totally.  Super weird, which I know because BDF used to be a landscaper in his former life before kids.

We went on our way, went to ballet, went to the sib class (which the kids loved and during which I learned that Trout can swaddle a baby - I didn't know she knew how to do that, and she's gooooood at it - and that the hospital is building a new mother/baby unit that won't be ready til next summer - and that Little Man knows how to hold a baby properly and is really quite excited to be getting a little brother), and came home, about 7:30 pm.  The police cars were still there, though there weren't nearly so many cops lurking around.  They had moved the cars over a bit so traffic could get by.  I figured they had found a body.

Once again, I hate it when I'm right.

My neighbor has kids in the middle school, and had driven by the mess the day before, so she called the police and said hey, we parents have a right to know as soon as possible what was going on there yesterday and if we need to be concerned about our kids' safety, as the walking route for kids to come from the middle school to our townhouse development goes right by that area.  They told her the landscapers had found a body in one of the cars and it was under investigation.  She asked about when they would know what the cause of death was, because if it was foul play a lot of parents won't be letting their kids walk through there anymore.  They told her right now it didn't look like foul play, but that they would let her know.

So we wait.  The thing that gets me, though, is that the car they found the body in had been parked there for at least 2 months and never moved.  If a body had been there for 2 months, someone would have smelled it and found it before now.  So how did the body get there?  My neighbor's guess is that someone crawled in there and either died or committed suicide.  There are a handful of homeless people, who apparently want to stay that way despite our neighborhood's efforts to help them, who live down by the railroad tracks, which are about 50 feet or so from where the car was parked.  Maybe one of them crawled in the car to try and get warm or something (it's been on the colder side at night here lately) and then died. 

Stay tuned for further details as they arrive.

Rockin' and Rollin' but Can't Get Goin'

Right now there is a Macy's delivery truck, a big one, in front of my house.  It's engine is dead, and three guys are, in various combos, trying to push the thing enough to pop the clutch and get it started.  There is only one way in and out of my neighborhood, so if my neighbor or I need to leave, we're screwed because we can't get our cars out of their spaces.  It's never going to work; the ground right in front of here is just a bit too level, and there isn't enough space for such a big truck.  Not to mention that I don't think they have enough guys to get up enough speed.  It is a bit comical to watch, but also frustrating.

Anyone know Spanish for "Call a fricking tow truck already?"

The Tooth Fairy Has Been Outed

Damn it!  I was going to post about our apple picking trip on Saturday, but that has been superceded by events, and I am so upset about it.

Trout has a friend who lives down the street from us.  She goes to play at her house, or the girl comes here, at least 3 times a week.  This girl, I will call her "Stacey," is 8 years old; Trout is six.  Usually this is not a problem.

Today, Trout and Stacey had been playing for about 1/2 hour when they come tumbling into the house.  Stacey keeps saying "Ask her, you'll see" and Trout comes up and asks me point blank "Mom, did you give me the money from the Tooth Fairy?"

Little Man and Sunny were in the room.  Looking at me expectantly.  I did what any Mom in that situation would do.

"Nope, I didn't."

Stacey immediately starts in "She's Lying!  She Just Doesn't Want You to Know, But She's Lying."

I gave her the Death Stare. 

Apparently Trout had also told Stacey that I had a movie of her with a fairy.  I'm not sure what she was talking about, and said as much.  Stacey accused Trout of lying too, and then Trout said "well, maybe I just dreamed that."

I am so sad about this.

I wanted Trout to have the magic of believing in the Tooth Fairy for more than just one tooth.  The thing is, I should have just trusted her.

Tonight, after we put the other kids to bed, I brought Trout into my room to discuss the whole thing.  I asked her what she thought.  She told me Stacey was wrong, the Tooth Fairy IS real.  This is where I started mentally smacking myself in the head, as it was clear that she was confident in her own beliefs despite this afternoon's exchange.  I asked her how Stacey knew the Tooth Fairy wasn't real, and Trout told me that Stacey saw her mom one night, and also told me that Stacey had shown her where her mom kept Stacey's teeth.

I don't know if Stacey's mom is aware Stacey knows. 

So I asked Trout again if that was the case, then what did she think?  Then she said, "Mom, did you give me the money?"

I couldn't lie to her like that again, I told her yes.  Thankfully, she wasn't mad.  She didn't even look at it as us lying to her.  BigDaddyFish and I explained that it is like playing a game to do something nice for someone, because playing pretend like that can be more fun than if we just handed her the money.  We asked her how it made her feel now that Stacey told her, and she said she felt bad.  We told her we did, too.  We talked to her about how important it is for her to play the game now, too, so that her little brother and sister get a chance to play pretend like that, too, and they won't have to feel bad like she does.  We have another friend who is Stacey's age who knows the truth about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy because of her family's religious beliefs, yet she's been playing along for years, out of respect for those who choose to do it the other way.  So I have a few questions for you Internets:

1.  Do I talk to Stacey's mom?  I don't know if she's aware that Stacey knows, and Stacey has a little brother who is just a little bit younger than Little Man.  I'd hate to see her spoil things for him, too.

2.  Do I talk to Stacey directly?  I was really, really pissed off this afternoon, not necessarily because of Trout finding out the truth, that was mostly just disappointing, but more because I thought Stacey did it in a really disrespectful and obnoxious way.  If I ever caught Trout doing that I'd be all over her about her attitude.  That's part of what leads me to believe her mother may not know, because she's not like that and I think she would have talked to her about respecting others' beliefs.  Do I mention that to her mother?

3.  How have you all handled the outing of Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, especially if you had younger children in the house?

4.  How would you have handled the situation this afternoon?

I don't know what to do.  Right now, I'm just really sad that Trout is growing up, and that she's had a little of the magic of being a kid taken from her.  Our society forces kids to grow up too fast already, and I was hoping for a little more of the little kid in her for a bit longer.

At least she still believes in Santa and the Easter Bunny.  I think.  She tends to be in her own little world, and at that age I was too - my mother had to tell me about Santa and the Easter Bunny; I believed what I believed despite what anyone else told me.  The only issue I had at the time (I was 9) was that she gave me the Big Sex Talk right after telling me there is no Santa/EB, so I was so flummoxed about the Santa/EB thing I didn't pay much attention to the rest.  So I learned when not to have the Big Sex Talk.

What do I do about the rest?

An Open Letter to Target and Giant Cashiers

Dear Cashier People,

First of all, I want to say that I appreciate that you are making a noticable effort to get me through the line and out of the store as quickly as possible.  However, I want to bring your attention to a few matters that will make your customers infinitely happier if you correct these issues:

1.  Speed is not necessarily desirable if, in the effort to be speedy, you double-charge me for every third item, causing me to have to go to management to get my money back.

2.  Bagging is a science - physics comes into play here.  Please observe the following rules:

• Never put more than one gallon of milk in a bag at a time.  If this bothers you, request that you leave the milk out of a bag altogether - but make sure you ask your customer their preference.
• Do not put heavy items, such as juice box packages or bottles of soda or juice, in the same bag with, or on top of, light crushable items, such as Oreo cookies or crackers or bread.  Just don't.
• Do not look at your customer and ask if it is okay to put all 20+ canned items in the same bag at once and then look at them surprised when they tell you they think it's a better idea to divide them up - just trust them.
• Do not put toiletries or dishwashing soap in the same bags as food items.  If you wouldn't want to eat it, it doesn't belong in a food bag.  When my shampoo bottle leaks, I don't want to have to rinse a bag of bread - most of these bags breathe in some way, and it is hard to spread peanut butter and jelly on wet, soapy bread.
• Do not put raw meat in the same bag as fresh produce.  It's called contamination - look it up sometime.
• Do not cram cardboard boxes of items such as cereal, pop tarts, or Little Debbie snack cakes into a plastic bag - if it requires force to get the box into the bag, odds are good that the corners of the box will tear said bag at a most inopportune time, like when you are carrying them up the stairs into your house or third-floor apartment.
• Do not put frozen or refrigerated items in the same bags as paper goods - condensation does have a tendency to soak into the paper, and I really wanted to read that issue of People magazine without having to blow-dry it first.

3.  I realize that cashiering is probably not the most rewarding job in the world and that a lot of people dump shit on you that has nothing to do with you and you don't make much money, but when you make me feel like you are paying attention to me and that my concerns are important, I am much more likely to be nice and patient, than if you roll your eyes and act as though you'd rather be anywhere else, especially when I am trying to be nice about it in the first place.

I know that you all are intelligent, diligent workers, and a little more attention to detail in your job will make your customers happy.  I know that once I've had a cashier who obviously is attentive and has learned these rules, I will seek them out when I return to the store, even if their line has 10 people in it and two others only have 1, and I am much more likely to consider tips when I can.

My Oreos, and my kids, thank you for your attention and consideration in this matter.