{"id":1933,"date":"2014-01-25T10:04:59","date_gmt":"2014-01-25T16:04:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/?p=1933"},"modified":"2014-01-25T10:04:59","modified_gmt":"2014-01-25T16:04:59","slug":"squirrel-in-the-kitchen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/2014\/01\/squirrel-in-the-kitchen\/","title":{"rendered":"Squirrel in the Kitchen"},"content":{"rendered":"

The reward at the end of the eight hour drive is immediate. I pry myself out of the cramped car and stand up in the soft needles splayed across the dirt driveway, feel the breeze enfold my bare arms and listen to the sighing trees. No visual cues are needed.\u00a0 Based on these lesser senses alone, I know that I am now officially on vacation. So do the dogs.\u00a0 They joyfully sniff their more pungent smells, scramble out of the car and rush around our legs.<\/p>\n

There are no lights on in the family cabin in front of us, so I use the car lights to guide us in.\u00a0 Nick and I each dump a couple of loads in the mud room \u2013 luggage, fishing rods, hiking gear, dog food, and a loose collection of books, magazines and crossword puzzles. It isn\u2019t until I start moving the luggage into the living room that I notice the note from my brother on the kitchen counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt looks like a squirrel has found its way into the cabin, probably through the utility closet. We couldn\u2019t catch it before we left. Good luck.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wonder how hard he has tried to catch the squirrel; I know that I would be seriously tempted to leave this annoying chore to the next family member to arrive. There were plenty of summers when the cabin was plagued by raccoons arriving in the middle of the night\u2013 smearing old picnics, eggs or coffee grounds across the kitchen floor, and then tracking the detritus through the house. As a teenager, I would cover my ears when I heard the raccoons ransacking the kitchen, reasoning that if I couldn\u2019t hear them, nobody could claim that I should have been the one to chase them out of the house in the middle of the night.\u00a0 In the morning, I would carefully avoid the kitchen. If I didn\u2019t see the mess, then I wouldn\u2019t have to clean it up. Apparently my strategy was not unique \u2013 I think that all members of the household held their collective breath during the night in the hopes that someone else would finally get out of bed and risk coming face to face with an aggressive raccoon. I wondered if the same philosophy was at play with this squirrel.<\/p>\n

The squirrel seems fussier than a raccoon. There is no upended garbage can or smear of food.\u00a0 In fact, the only evidence are tiny teeth marks at the edge of a wooden cabinet. Inside there are several jars of peanuts. I admire the hard working squirrel and his exquisitely sensitive nose. He is so close to scoring the mother lode of food, enough to tide his entire family over the upcoming winter.\u00a0\u00a0 However, starting tomorrow we will try to kill him.<\/p>\n

The next morning after breakfast, Nick turns to me and says, \u201cWhat are we going to do about the squirrel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll see if I can borrow a Have-a-Heart trap,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

Our cabin is in a remote housing association along the shore of Lake Superior.\u00a0 There are no nearby stores so I know I will have to borrow a trap. As I walk over to the housing association office, I think about our unspoken technique of assigning chores that has evolved over the thirty three years of our marriage. At home, setting a mouse trap would be Nick\u2019s job, perhaps based on the long established gender-based role of the hunter. But here in the northern woods, I know it is my job to catch the squirrel \u2013 even though this rodent is several rungs higher on the food chain.<\/p>\n

The key difference is that I need to borrow a household item \u2013 a chore which sits a bit more on the female end of the spectrum \u2013 compared to borrowing a hammer, for example, which could be considered a more manly chore.\u00a0 Also I know our neighbors better.\u00a0 Another other subtle factor is that the cabin is really not our cabin, rather it is shared among my siblings, and Nick has wisely stepped aside from all household decisions (except for that one time when he heroically unclogged an obstinate toilet).\u00a0 No discussion is needed.\u00a0 After a few inquiries, I come back to the cabin with a Have-a-Heart trap.<\/p>\n

\"have<\/a><\/p>\n

I investigate the utility closet and find scat and urine stains on top of the water heater.\u00a0\u00a0 I imagine that the squirrel has burrowed into the house, climbed up a stack of cross country skis in the corner of the closet and then hopped on top of the water heater, luxuriating in its warmth before his foray into the kitchen.\u00a0 \u201cThis squirrel really has it going on,\u201d I think as I set the trap with a smear of peanut butter.\u00a0 We gather up the fishing equipment for our planned day at a nearby lake.\u00a0 I fully anticipate a caged squirrel by the time we get back in the afternoon. \u201cWhat should we<\/i> do when we catch him?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

Mine is certainly a simple question, similar to his earlier query about what we<\/i> would do about the squirrel, but in our marriage, the use of the word \u201cwe\u201d generally means \u201cyou.\u201d\u00a0 If Nick tells me, \u201cI think that we<\/i> had better respond to this invitation,\u201d I know that he is giving me a friendly reminder.\u00a0 If I say, \u201cwhat should we<\/i> do about the leaky faucet,\u201d he knows that I am reminding him to call the plumber.\u00a0 Even though the Have-a-Heart trap is designed to harmlessly trap an animal, the name is really an oxymoron because once we catch the squirrel, someone will have to dispose of it.\u00a0 Even if we try to relocate the squirrel, it is probably smart enough (or dumb enough) to come back.\u00a0 My mother once had a pitched battle with a woodchuck that was ravaging her garden.\u00a0 She eventually caught him in a Have-a-Heart Trap, but was then perplexed on what to do next him.\u00a0 After all that effort, she was just not going to let him go, but felt conflicted about killing him, or rather how to kill him.\u00a0 She thought about inviting a friend over who had a shot gun, but ultimately she opted for a watery death over a bloody one. \u00a0She heaved the Have-a-Heart trap along with the woodchuck into the pond.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m perfectly happy to catch the squirrel, but once the squirrel is rattling around the in the trap, I want Nick to know that disposal will clearly be his job.\u00a0 I say, \u201cOnce I\u2019ve caught the squirrel, I think that we\u2019ll<\/i> just have to kill it. \u201d\u00a0 I\u2019m confident that he knows that my \u201cwe\u201d means \u201cyou.\u201d<\/p>\n

There is a moderate breeze on the lake so we load in two sets of oars just in case, but I am the sole rower as Nick fishes.\u00a0 Nick likes to tell the story of how I did a bait and switch during the early days of our courtship.\u00a0 He was excited to think that I shared his passion for fishing, but then was astonished when my interest totally evaporated once we got married.\u00a0 While there is an element of truth to the story, in my defense I would point out that I have always been a willing rower.<\/p>\n

I also like to think that I have defied the gender-based heavy-lifting male role.\u00a0 I have moved furniture, pushed cars out of a drift and carry my own luggage.\u00a0 Rowing is a particular pleasure.\u00a0 I straighten my back to get the optimal leverage and find a steady rhythm with the oars that balances the breeze and the slow pace of fishing along the shore.\u00a0 The blade slips into the water and emerges dripping, creating expanding ripples that trail behind the wooden boat.\u00a0 As we inch forward, I close my eyes and listen to the soothing gurgling sound of the water percolating beneath the bow.<\/p>\n

Suddenly Nick\u2019s rod tip bends.\u00a0 I immediately revert to the stereotypical female role, squealing and yelling as he brings the fish into the boat.\u00a0 I yell, \u201cGet it out of here.\u00a0 What are you doing?\u00a0 Get rid of it.\u201d\u00a0 I move to the bow of the boat while Nick wrestles with fish flopping in the stern.\u00a0 My knees are drawn up to my chest lest one drop of the fish\u2019s slimy scales land on my leg.\u00a0 Nick expertly gets the hook out of fish\u2019s mouth, but I shudder as the metal barb scrapes against the stiff gills and grimace at the disconcerting spot of blood on the bottom of the boat.\u00a0 Nick returns the fish to water, gently rocking it to create a little current across its gasping gills.\u00a0 When the fish regains its bearings, it disappears with a flash of its tail.\u00a0 Only then can I relax and resume my rowing.<\/p>\n

There was one occasion when Nick caught a fine trout, and I rowed over to the shore where he cleaned and cooked it over a fire.\u00a0 As he finished the meal, Nick said, \u201cThis is the essence of manhood.\u201d\u00a0 While cleaning and cooking game might have been the woman\u2019s role in Native American culture, I was in total agreement with his more contemporary gender assignment.<\/p>\n

When we return to the cabin, I rush in to check on the squirrel.\u00a0 The peanut butter has been wiped clean and I imagine the triumphant squirrel prancing in excitement over his deft touch.\u00a0 Time to up the ante.\u00a0\u00a0 The squirrel was probably too light to trip the trap, so I experiment with different combinations of small stones to create a hair trigger.\u00a0 I rig the trap so that the slightest movement will set it off.\u00a0 Something as trivial as a puff of a properly aimed fart from an overfed squirrel will certainly slam the door shut.<\/p>\n

The next day we head off on a hike and Nick packs up a small backpack with binoculars, lunch and water bottle.\u00a0 If I was entirely consistent with my gender assignments, I would carry my own backpack, but I just hate its tug on my shoulders.\u00a0 My work-around is basically not to eat lunch, or pack something so diminutive, like a few sticks of carrots, that it would make no sense to have a separate pack.\u00a0 The biggest issue is water, and I make sure that I only take a few sips of Nick\u2019s.\u00a0 I do notice that he has started to carry a larger water bottle but I don\u2019t ask why.\u00a0 I know I\u2019m on a slippery slope here, but off I go with my head held high.<\/p>\n

When we return, I am utterly astonished that my squirrel trap has again been wiped clean. I feel like I am heading into Roadrunner\/Wiley Coyote territory.\u00a0 Perhaps a clever squirrel is lurking above me eager to drop an anvil on my head.\u00a0 Nick glances up from his Forbes magazine as I sputter and swear, but says nothing.\u00a0 Time to find something more vicious; a neighbor lends me a menacing rat trap.\u00a0 The kinder and gentler illusion of the Have-a-Heart trap is gone.\u00a0 I tremble as I bait the trap with fresh peanut butter, fearful that the serrated jaws of death will sever my pinkie.<\/p>\n

\"rat<\/a><\/p>\n

The next day we hike to Trout Lake, glassy calm in its seclusion.\u00a0 Nick doesn\u2019t need rowing help, so I remain on my perch of overlooking rocks while he takes a lap around the lake.\u00a0\u00a0 I see the oars rising, dipping and then pausing as one stroke is enough to propel the boat along the shore.\u00a0 Nick rarely catches any fish in this hopefully named lake, and I immediately spot the reason why.\u00a0 Resplendent loons bob in the middle of the lake, dive and pop up yards away.\u00a0 Supposedly a loon will eat some 600 pounds of fish in a summer.\u00a0 No wonder there are such slim pickings for a fisherman blindly throwing a lure into tangled snags.<\/p>\n

Overhead a bald eagle circles lazily, then swoops down, plucks a startled fish from the water and lumbers off with the fish\u2019s head firmly in his talons.\u00a0 The fish gives one last flap of his tail and the spray of water dimples the lake\u2019s surface.\u00a0 The eagle settles in a pine tree and quickly rips the fish asunder; little bits and pieces of fins and scales drift down and speckle the water below.\u00a0 I wonder if there is another violent death occurring in our kitchen at this very moment.\u00a0 I envision the squirrel poking its head into the trap, reaching toward the tantalizing peanut butter, and then SNAP, the jaws of death crushing its little neck.\u00a0 I am only a little uncomfortable in hoping that my wish comes true.<\/p>\n

My thoughts drift to our unspoken rules on household chores.\u00a0 Many are divvied along traditional lines.\u00a0 Nick takes out the garbage, deals with the cars and pays the bills.\u00a0 I make the beds, fold and put the laundry away and clean the inevitable clutter from the counter when guests arrive.\u00a0 However, it is in the area of cooking \u2013 that iconic role of women \u2013 that I am a complete outlier.\u00a0 I don\u2019t mind cooking for special occasions, but balk at everyday meals.\u00a0 I have always worked full-time, and while I enjoy the intellectual stimulation, the income and the identity that comes with it, I truly value the free pass it gives me on the day-in, day-out grind of making dinner.\u00a0 Now that we are empty-nesters our usual routine is for each of us to make our own dinner \u2013 I may have a bite of Nick\u2019s and he might have a bite of mine, but we rarely fully share.\u00a0 I am currently winding down my medical consulting business and one of my trepidations about retirement is that without a job as a handy excuse, the balance of chores will shift.\u00a0 I could start taking out the garbage, but the kitchen is the most obvious place where I could take up the slack.<\/p>\n

Nick returns empty-handed and we head back home.\u00a0 The utility door is open, so when I walk into the back door I immediately see the beckoning trap, but the peanut butter is gone.\u00a0 I explode.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat god damn fucking squirrel.\u00a0 He is really asking for it now.\u00a0 He comes when we\u2019re gone and then steals our peanut butter.\u00a0 Who does he think he is?\u00a0 I have twelve years of higher education, and his brain is no bigger than the clenched fist of a fetus.\u00a0 He\u2019s just mocking me now, just mocking me, and I won\u2019t stand for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I can rant all I want, but I know these are just empty words since I have no plan B for a squirrel who can outwit a rat trap with a hair trigger.<\/p>\n

Nick is ahead of me in the kitchen and yells, \u201cI\u2019ve caught him in the act.\u00a0 He\u2019s is on the counter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet him, get him,\u201d I scream and we both chase the squirrel through the living room into the screened porch.\u00a0 Nick slams one door and I rush outside to slam the other door.\u00a0 He\u2019s trapped.<\/p>\n

We spot the anxious squirrel behind the couch and look at each other with an unspoken question of \u201cwhat next?\u201d\u00a0 Now is not the time for our carefully coded messages of \u201cwe.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you<\/i> need to kill him?\u201d I ask.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll get you<\/i> a tennis racquet and fishing net.\u00a0 That way you<\/i> can either club him or scoop him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nick carefully slips into the porch with his weapons.\u00a0 It is now mano \u00e0 mano, hunter vs. prey, husband vs. squirrel with wife anxiously peering through the window of the closed door.\u00a0 Nick whirls around, brandishing first the fishing net and then the tennis racquet while the squirrel leaps from one screen to the next in an impressive acrobatic display. \u00a0I think that at this point the squirrel must know he\u2019s doomed, and perhaps regrets his smug triumph over the rat trap.\u00a0 Will the squirrel decide to go out in a blaze of glory with a lacerating and vengeful leap at Nick\u2019s face?\u00a0 Will I then have to watch Nick die a frothy and spittled death from rabies?\u00a0 I almost rush to the outside door to let the squirrel out, but with one agile mid-air move Nick nets him.<\/p>\n

He takes him to the outside porch and holds up the tennis racquet as the instrument of execution and I nod.\u00a0 I rush off to the linen closet to get an old towel, but this is just a cosmetic touch so that we won\u2019t have to witness splattered brains as Nick pummels him.\u00a0 A small splotch of blood seeps through the towel and the thrashing stops.\u00a0\u00a0 We are astonished by this sudden display of violence, but I think that the squirrel has given us no choice.\u00a0 He could have heeded our warning flare of the trap, or had the good sense to choose a quick death in the rat trap.\u00a0 What else were we supposed to do?<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know this isn\u2019t that different from the eagle shredding the fish to death,\u201d says Nick.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I say \u201cBut there is a key difference.\u00a0 I am not planning to eat this squirrel raw.\u00a0 What should we<\/i> do with it now?\u201d<\/p>\n

There is that indeterminate \u201cwe\u201d hanging again in mid-air, but the least I can do is be executioner\u2019s hand maiden.\u00a0 I recalibrate and go with the first person, singular.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll take care of it,\u201d I say.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t want to put the squirrel in the garbage.\u00a0 That\u2019s too undignified.\u00a0 Can you keep the dogs away?\u00a0 I don\u2019t want them to play with him.\u201d\u00a0 I scoop the squirrel up in the bloody towel and carefully rest him in the woods far behind the cabin.<\/p>\n

The missing words in the following poem are anagrams (i.e. share the same letters like spot, post, stop) and the number of asterisks indicates the number of letters.\u00a0 Your job is to solve the missing words based on the above rules and the context of the poem.\u00a0 Scroll down for answers.<\/i><\/h6>\n

\u00a0<\/b>The division of labor is based on cultural mores,<\/p>\n

There are task for women and then there are **** chores.<\/p>\n

I can do the laundry or make the bed, that\u2019s no big deal<\/p>\n

But I defy convention when I balk at cooking a ****.<\/p>\n

A full time job has been my handy life saver,<\/p>\n

But it\u2019s really just a **** excuse for my lazy behavior.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Answers: male, meal, lame<\/p>\nFollow Liza Blue on: \"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>Share: \"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>\"reddit\"<\/a>\"pinterest\"<\/a>\"linkedin\"<\/a>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The reward at the end of the eight hour drive is immediate. I pry myself out of the cramped car and stand up in the soft needles splayed across the dirt driveway, feel the breeze enfold my bare arms and … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[33,32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1933","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-nature","category-such-is-life"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7iVc8-vb","post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1933","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1933"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1933\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1936,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1933\/revisions\/1936"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1933"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1933"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.fanagrams.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1933"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}