Monthly Archives: May 2010

The naturalists

Greg and I like the outdoors and usually take vacations to the mountains or ocean. We’ve been close to animals in the wild — moose and black bear — and even spent a day on the Alaskan tundra surrounded by grizzlies (And if you want to hear more, we’d love to show you the 900 photos Greg took that day. Really. You can experience every second with us.).

Lately, Eleanor is fascinated with nature as well. We turned her loose last night at the park across the street from our house. She toddled ahead of us while we chatted, and the next thing I knew, Greg put a near strangle-hold on my arm and froze.

“Don’t move,” he said.

I looked down. What was it? A scorpion? A tarantula? A nest of fire ants? I couldn’t see anything, and Greg was yanking me sideways. I looked anxiously at Eleanor, who had already walked past the scary thing we were trying to avoid. Greg was silent. He pulled again at my arm, and I stumbled as I scanned the ground for the scary thing.

Greg walked me in a six-foot semi-circle around the scary thing. He finally pointed. A snake.

“Woah!” I said. “I didn’t even see that.”

It was bright green and about a foot and a half long. It didn’t look particularly threatening though. It was very still.

“I wonder what kind it is,” I said. “I’m going to Google it when we get home.”

“I’m not sure it’s even alive,” Greg said.

“It doesn’t look dead,” I said. It was holding its head off the ground.

“No, I mean I don’t know if it’s real,” he said.

I got a little closer. It looked real. I picked up a twig and threw it at the snake, which didn’t move as the twig hit its tail.

Greg and I decided it must be fake. Still, no use in touching it, right?

I went back today to snap a photo of the snake to post with this. It was gone.

(A follow-up: We found a photo that looks just like our snake. I guess he was really good at faking us out.)

All fed, all alive

Saturday afternoon we hosted Eleanor’s Kiddie Cookout, welcoming 15 people into our home. Five of those were wee people, and yet somehow, everything seemed to go smoothly. Well, almost.

Lessons learned:

As for which is less destructive to a home, six small children or six bulls, I should guess the latter.

Husband should not leave camera that cost more than a small country on the ground. Two-year-old will love her new toy.

Give daughter more help with socialization. Attempts to bite stomachs of other children are frowned upon.

It actually IS possible to exhaust a terrier.

Vanity? No. Sloth? Perhaps.

Greg and I had a conversation recently about our faults. Greg mentioned that he considered himself vain. This flummoxed me. I don’t consider Greg at all concerned with appearances.

He will wear the same pair of pants for five days straight because it’s so much easier to pick them up off the floor where they were left the night before than to go to the closet. He wants us to have a beautiful yard, but he hates actually working in the yard, so we’re the neighbors with the foot-high weeds. And then there’s his car, which gets washed maybe once a year. And I’m often the one washing it. I had become embarrassed to even let our friends ride in it because a layer of pet hair coated the seats.

Well, Greg got into a little fender-bender a few weeks ago (the other guy’s fault). When we got the car back from the repair shop, Greg was thrilled with their work.

“Did you see how clean it is?” he said. I told him that the outside looked good but I hadn’t seen the inside.

“They cleaned the whole thing,” he said. “It’s the cleanest it’s been in six years!”

Six years ago it was brand new, and therefore, very clean.

“Well, I guess you need to get in more wrecks,” I said.

“I know!” he said.

I don’t think “vanity” was quite the word Greg was looking for.