I will never escape them.

So we’re back from our state circuit tour and are glad to have a vacation from our vacation. We loved being off work and getting to see everyone, but bouncing around like ping pong balls for ten days will really take the energy out of you.

If only we weren’t so popular. Hmm… ūüôā

During our grand tour my parents thought it would be a demented wonderful idea to buy my husband a giant plastic centipede. Yes, a centipede. Complete with fangs and stingers and jiggly little legs.

Remember these little nightmares? Yeah. I've been trying not to.

Remember these? Yeah. I’ve been trying not to.

Some of you may have been around for my post on these little nightmares, but just in case you weren’t, here are some pleasant facts about Satan’s many-legged minions:

  • They are FAST! Wickedly, otherworldly fast.
  • They have long fangs that leave puncture marks like a snake.
  • They are nocturnal.
  • They eat anything and everything. Including bats and snakes. And probably people, if they can catch you. Which they can.
  • They come originally from Africa, but are also abundant in the Caribbean, where they strike fear into the hearts of all but the hardiest of visitors.
  • They are very hard to kill. The best method is to cut them into pieces, but then even those pieces will run around and try to bite you (and they can).

So. Yes. Quite adorable.

And after traveling thousands of miles by plane to escape them, I now have one IN MY HOUSE! Thanks Mom. And Dad. Thanks so much.

Here is Meera, doing what sane creatures do when they find centipedes — try to kill them.

Meera chases down a giant centipede.

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Didgeri-don’t

My husband helped somebody move last week, and when he picked me up from work that afternoon he had a strange object in the back seat.

“If you can guess what it is, I will be impressed,” he said.

I picked up the object and felt it through its long fabric sleeve. At 3-4 feet long, it was not completely straight and was open at both ends.

“I don’t know. Some sort of instrument?”

“Wow. You’ll never guess what kind.”

I took the first wild guess that came to mind. “A didgeridoo?”

The mister’s mouth fell open.

We own a didgeridoo. An actual, real life didgeridoo.

For those of you who don’t¬†know (because why in the world would you?), a didgeridoo is basically a long smooth tube made of some sort of wood that aborigines play in Australia. [Picture courtesy of Google.] NO IDEA why the people Matt helped had one, but they were going to throw it out. So now we have it. Still not sure why….. but we at least found a good use for it the other night.

It drives our dog NUTS! (And probably all the other dogs in a five mile radius, although that hasn’t been confirmed.)

First off, I think the noise unnerves her. As it would most creatures, I think, since it sounds like a very long expulsion of gas from the body. (Colloquially known as a barking spider, squashed frog, bubble or fart.)

Secondly, she seems particularly disturbed by the fact that the noise does not seem to be coming from daddy himself. Instead, it’s coming from a hole¬†several feet away from daddy, but that may or may not be attacking daddy via a long tube that’s eating his face. I think that would bother me too, if I were a dog. Actually, it sort of bothers me now.

The video below is for your personal viewing pleasure. Treat yourself to¬†the musical inclinations¬†of the mister¬†and the mutt as they perform an inspired duet entitled, “Daddy, I will protect you from the evil noise-making thing¬†as long as it doesn’t get too close to me.”

The didgeridoo creates a very deep noise, so you may not be able to hear it well on the video, but Meera’s reaction to it is definitely audible. Enjoy.

If a Tree Grows in the House, can it be Trusted?

We’re moved in! Yay! We have internet! Yay! We have our Christmas tree up! Yay!

Meera, however, is not so pleased.

We moved the furniture up last Thursday and left Meera with the in-laws until the weekend, when she returned with us on Sunday afternoon. She whined in the backseat of the car for an hour until finally either deciding it wasn’t so bad or simply resigning herself to whatever fate awaited her. She wasn’t too sure about the apartment at first either, but I think she has decided it’s not so bad either. There is a big comfy chair to sit in (which she has apparently decided belongs to her) and a long driveway to drag Mommy down when we check the mail, so that seems to make it better.

I feel really bad that we weren’t able to find anything where she would have a fenced yard, and I know she has to be bored out of her mind in this tiny space, but she was an apartment dog before and she’ll learn to be one again. Eventually. But until then she’ll drive me nuts trying to trip me every time I turn around.

She’s also very confused by the Christmas decorations. She isn’t exactly afraid of the Christmas tree…. but she isn’t thrilled by its presence either. She refuses to linger in that corner and sometimes stops and looks at it with distrust. A tree in the house? That’s just not normal.

Although she does like wrapping paper. A little too much, actually. I was trying to wrap a few presents earlier and spent the first five minutes wrestling the roll away from her. She thinks it’s a giant, wonderful chew toy that she must chase around the floor as I try to move it. I’m not sure if she was trying to help or just trying to prevent me from being festive, but either way it made for a pretty good video.

Her biggest issue, however, is with the linoleum at the top of the apartment stairs. We have carpet in our apartment itself, but the inner hallway that leads from the parking area to our front door has linoleum at the top… and it petrifies her. She spent the first year and a half of her life living in houses with completely tiled floors, so you wouldn’t think this would be an issue… but now that she’s experienced carpet she hates to walk on anything else. At the in-laws’, she refused to cross the hardwood kitchen floor without bribery. Here, she sneaks to the front door and stops, tentatively lowers one paw to the tile, and then, without warning, sprints across the upper landing to the stairs so she has to spend as little time on the linoleum as possible. Unfortunately, I am attached to her when she does this, which results in much skidding of paws and yelling for her to slow down. I’m sure my neighbors love this.

We haven’t met any of the neighbors yet except in brief passing, but I know there are at least five other dogs in the complex and two children. And a cat… but the cat was lying in a dog house when I saw it, so I’m not completely sure it belongs here.

I start work tomorrow and the Mister has a good chance of starting work at a vaccine/research company in the next town over, so fingers crossed that will work out. We only have one car at the moment, so figuring out who has to drop who off and who has to leave work early to pick who up and take them where at what time will be incredibly complicated until we can get that issue resolved.

Prayers always appreciated. Holiday wishes and wet doggy kisses from the Nut House!

/the missus

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Compromises must sometimes be made…