I think I smell a rat...

Well, we don't have much time so I'll just tell you about me. ;)

Fred is not dead... and if he is still living after all the rat poison he's been eating he's going to turn into some sort of Mighty Mouse character; because animals cannot consume that much crap and keep living.

Wait, americans consume that much McDonalds and seem to be fairing well, despite our enormous overall size from consuming that much crap... 

But the poison is blue... Who eats BLUE food?  I pick out the friggin' blue M&M's because blue food is just not right.  (PS.  Blueberries obviously do not count; they're are not that non-naturally-occurring blue colour... just for the record.)

So I lied; I'm not the mouse whisperer.  I had to opt for the poison; as the $40 Pest A Cator looks like a lovely outlet decoration, but doesn't do much for keeping Fred at bay. 

On a separate but similar note; not only does Fred enjoy fancy crackers, he has developed a penchant for $5-a-pound granola from the health bins at Dans.  Yeah, you can find them next to the carob chips and tofu snacks. )

NAMASTE, to living things everywhere (but I selfishly pray that Fred is soon Dead.)  

Mouse Whisperer

I think you could pretty much call me the “mouse whisperer.”

Fred, the little mouse that was in my kitchen earlier this week, seems to have heeded my warnings…We have not seen a trace of him since that Monday afternoon, and Danny said he hasn’t heard any scampering in the walls near the closet… which apparently had been taking place earlier to my discovery of Fred, but Danny didn’t want to tell me (he thought I might freak out.) Yeah, seeing the little freakazoid (Fred, my four legged friend, not my husband) scampering* across our kitchen counter was a much easier way to break the news to me…

Also, I managed to live through a bout of the Hantavirus; thanks for the heads up Spence, good thing I was taking Echinacea at the time. (I’m joking obviously.)

But when Fred and I had our little discussion last week, I think we really connected. I invoked the same “power of persuasion” tactics my old man used when warning me about the dangers of the male species as a teenager (basically, don’t get close to the fire or you’ll get burned by the flame.) Only for any of you who know Suiter, you recognize the “talking to” lasted a lot longer and the stare was much more intense ("fear of God" is more of an appropriate description.)

So I feel good that I didn’t have to use the mouse poison… it would be really hard to practice Zen principles if I was killing a mouse. Then again, we don’t have children, and the consensus seems to be I’d feel different if little Stevie, Holden or Geneva/Chamonix** were in our place.

On a completely separate note... I started writing my "chick lit" novel this week... This is my official 2nd go at writing a novel. The first one (back in 2004 I think), I was about 65 pages in and was SO FED UP with my heroine that I just quit writing because I figured if I can't even have a character I've created fall in love with the right kind of man, what does that say about me? (Thankfully, I've ameliorated the problem since.) I just felt at the time that I was having enough problems with the male species in real life, that I didn't need to create an alter ego to live through the pain as well... once was enough for all of my personalities. ;)

Namaste,
Suite


*But I think it would be really funny to see Danny scamper.
**Also, we haven’t decided which European city we’re naming our second daughter after

If you give a mouse a cookie… he’ll take over your kitchen apparently!

So, apparently my sister Cassandra said she was boycotting my blog until I was “funny again.” Apparently self-deprecation and tirades about unfortunate mix-ups with Girl Scout cookies and the latest carbs I’ve fallen prey to is not interesting fodder… or food for thought (pun absolutely intended).

Fine, be that way… I shall move onto something more “interesting.” (I happen to find my food intake very interesting, but Danny saus I’m starting to sound like I have an eating disorder… which, hello! “Bulima is like sooo 9th grade… well, in my case, a good portion of my senior year of college, but lets move past that .. I have.)

Back to the GRIND.

There is a mouse in my house. (Sometimes I think I am too honest in my posts... first posting my weight, now this.)
But seriously, there is a mouse in my house. Probably more than one… I don’t really want to know. I just want Mickey and his friends to leave. I’m not trying to be violent; I’m not trying to build a better mouse trap… I just want him out.

I saw him scamper across my kitchen counter this afternoon (excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth.)

I really shouldn’t post this, because I’m not sure if anyone will EVER want to come over for a dinner party again… but apparently these things are quite common on the East side (“east side pride” my Kim-Kardasian-sized “A.C.E.”)

Ew.
Ew.
Double Ew. (The mouse, not Kim K.)

Danny refers to the deer and other creatures of Mt. Olympus as “his little friends.” (This actually stems back to when my little nephew Max, now 3, got bit on the finger at the Krohn Conservatory in Cincinnati last winter. When we asked him to recount the sad tale, he began his story with: “Well, I thought he was my little friend.”)

The moral of the story is, I want them to be my little friends (I hope actually there’s just one friend… this is one case in socialization that I don’t really want to grow my circle of love.)

I want them to know I appreciate them as God’s creatures… I’m sure they do something splendid in the circle of life… but let’s stick to the cartoon Lion King and have them take their rightful place in the animal kingdom which does NOT include eating my fancy crackers that are delectable with Brie cheese… they don’t need it… it’s not what God intended. I’m pretty sure I don’t need a “witness” about the truth of that statement.

It says Man is that he might have joy; but I have not seen ANYWHERE in the scriptures where is says “mice are that they might eat pretentious crackers!”

So here’s the deal… I got this new “Pest a Cator” and “Bait Block” for the bargain price of about 50 bux. (I know, those $5 mouse traps are a lot cheaper, but I do not want to see a dead rodent in my house… I’d much rather see a LIVE one scampering outside to NEVER return to the Suite-Cain-Mangum pad. )

So the Pest a Cator says that you just plug it in and its “patended pulse electro magnetic technology .. [will] send a pulsing signal throughout the wiring of [my] home. This silent pulse is intended to annoy rodents and may help with problems behind walls.”

(Again, excuse me… more vomiting…)

So, that is my “nice” way of saying, “GET OOOOOOOOOOOUTTT you filthy rodent!!!” (Which in this case, is completely literal in its meaning.)

See I’ve already asked them nicely to leave… after I screamed bloody murder… but I really did ask nicely at first. But I was afraid they weren’t listening. I don’t even speak a second human language… let alone “mouse.” Though I do have some ex-boyfriends who I am confident spoke “RAT.” (Just kidding, sort of…)

And if they don’t comply (the mice, not the ex-boyfriends, obviously)… well, I’m taking the very non Buddhist approach and letting them eat the poison where they supposedly bleed internally and try to find their way outside (Danny says to find water… I’d say to find a better resting place than next to our cheerios. That just looks gluttonous…even for a mouse.)

So they’ll be dead… and I may feel better that their gone… but it will kind of be like: “Listen dudes… I tried to warn you. But no, you needed the fancy crackers… and now, you MUST DIE!” Or their case, you’re dead.

Do mice go to heaven? I feel terrible.

Anyway, the box for the electromagnetic mouse-be-gone surprise says: “Within days you may see and increase ub activity as “Pest A Cator” begins working.”

So at least I have something to look forward to in this little experiment : more little friends.

PS. After this post, you can promise I won’t be talking about what I’m eating.