The fall of 1999 found us in the middle of building a new house. It had been a hugh project and we were tired and a little discouraged with the progress. Although we had great aspirations of being in the house by Thanksgiving...it soon became apparent that our goal was not to be met. We were in a rental home, squished and not excited about the prospects of having Thanksgiving dinner there at that house. So it comes down to plan B. I sometimes don't know where I come up with these things, but I decided it would be great to rent a cabin up in the Unitas and have a little get away far from the issues that plagued us with building a house. You know one of those "Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmothers house we go" experiences.
On the Weds. before Thanksgiving we packed up all the kids, grand kids, and food and drove up to the mountains. The weather was cold, a little snowy and absolutely perfect for our Thanksgiving weekend.
The cabin had a steep staircase up to a loft room where we determined to put the younger kids. One of our grandchildren, was it Mason or Chase? I think it was Mason fell down the stairs and ended up in not so near by Evanston getting stitches. That should have been our first clue. Then we found out that the oven didn't work. Really? It was Thanksgiving after all, but we adapted and decided rolls could be done in dutch ovens and the turkey in the electric roaster oven that we brought up. I'm sure Thanksgiving that year was wonderful, I really can't remember how the food turned out, this week my old brain has tried as hard a I could to dredge up memories of that weekend. But only one memory really stands out.
Crystal is our youngest daughter. She was in the sixth grade, so that would make her what? About eleven? She was relegated to the loft bedroom with the kids. Every morning we were there she said to me, "Mommy, I don't like that bed, it stinks and I can't sleep good". Several times I went up, looked around and pronounced no good reason for her not to sleep and shrugged it off. We stayed four nights in the cabin. On the last day there we had been asked to strip the beds and leave the bedding for someone to come take care of it. We loaded everything up, cleaned the kitchen, bathrooms and I went upstairs with Crystal to address the beds. Systematically we went from one bed to the other, taking off sheets, blankets and pillow cases. Again while we were doing our tasks, she complained about not sleeping well because of the stink. I couldn't smell a thing. She even said that she tried to get away from the smell by taking her pillow and going to the other end of the bed to sleep, but it did no good. She could still smell the smell. We were finally at the last bed, Crystal took one pillow and took off the case, I took the one she had been sleeping on and started to peel the case off the pillow, filling something hard, I thought she had put a hairbrush or a book, something in the case to keep it safe. But noooooo, out onto the bed it came, A VERY DEAD, FLAT AS A BOARD, DRIED UP, STINKY SQUIRREL! We both started screaming and I don't think I can ever remember Jim moving that fast before or since that fateful Thanksgiving holiday to save his hysterical women!
Now why might you ask, do I dredge up this wonderful tale of dead squirrel, thanksgiving and husband heroics this many years after the fact?
This week we have added another squirrel episode to our book, I think I hate the things! Can't they just stay where they belong? Out in the forests or better yet, up in a tree, out in the forest where I don't have to see them? Certainly not living in our attic, certainly not pooping in my bathtub and most certainly not interrupting my peace and security during the middle of the night!
The week started with us seeing droppings, we thought at first that it might be bats, but no, Jim determined that it wasn't bat droppings. So we got on the Internet, what did we ever do with out it, and matched up the scat with the pictures, (I will spare you the link) and that coupled with Vanja telling us she had seen those furry little things that eat nuts, (she couldn't quite find the vocabulary word in English) on our third story balcony. We have decided we have an infestation of what is called Attic Squirrels. Yesterday my hero, bought about a dozen little packets of rat poison and distributed them on the balcony, rain gutters, and in the attic. This morning they were all gone. Not nibbled at like a rodent would do, but GONE! I just hope they don't die in one of my pillow cases! Life in Bosnia....gotta love it!