Raucous Raccoons

Backing up into my driveway late one dark night, I noticed a large shadow slugging slowly over the front lawn. As I parked, I noticed another, then a third. Barely illuminated by the house's Christmas lights I thought, "What kind of dogs are those? And what are they doing on my front lawn?" Wanting a better look, I pulled out of the driveway and drove back straight in, so my headlights could reveal these animals. They were too big for skunks, I thought.

They were raccoons! And huge ones too. Oh, no, I turned off my engine and sat. I was too frightened to get out of my car. Looking around, I remembered my car windows were broken and stuck down a ways, with the back-left one down completely. I did not want the intruders entering my car, especially with me inside. I had to make a decision. Be brave, Joe, I told myself as I took a deep breath and opened the car door.

The raccoons took quick notice of me, barely being ten feet away. From nowhere appeared a fourth, to my immediate left. Then a fifth to my right. I was completely outnumbered as they seemed a wall separating me from my house. My heart started pounding. The raccoon to my left stood on its hind legs to frighten me, followed by the one on the right. Not looking at them, I stepped forward, hoping to split their line.

Feeling I wasn't worth a fight, the masked marauder to my left wandered under my mother's car. But I didn't trust it. The one on the right wandered away into the darkness. Fearing this gang could jump me, I refocused on my front door and pressed forward. But one raccoon ran before me and beat me into the courtyard. Oh no, this now seemed like a losing battle. I knew that raccoons were very cunning, and excellent strategists as well as tacticians. I remembered a similar standoff long ago in the mountains, where a horde of raccoons harassed us but finally did not attack and eventually crawled off. That memory gave me some confidence these raccoons would not attack me now.

Creeping toward my courtyard to get to the front door, I was only two feet from two stubborn bandits. They were eating my persimmons on the lawn! That's why the whole family was here and wouldn't budge. They were feasting on my persimmons! Now it made sense, but before I could relish in the discovery, the two with bad table manners snarled loudly at me, making me jump to the gate of the courtyard.

Yet I froze there. Where was the intruder that had gone before me? I could not find it among the large potted plants. Trying a tactic of my own, I held out my car keys and shook them hoping to either scare the hiding raccoon away or draw him out. Nothing. No movement, no sound.

Taking a last deep breath, I walked into the courtyard straight for my front door; my salvation, my safety, my freedom. Peering over both shoulders to make sure I wasn't being followed, I quickly swung open the door, and swung it closed even quicker behind me, where I let out my breath.

Skunked

"Go home!" I yelled out, at the skunk staring me in the face, some fifteen feet away. So it took me seriously and turned and lumbered off. I then entered my home in peace.

I'm tired of scattered skunks visiting my premises in the late afternoon. Where do they all come from? I live in the suburbs, not the foothills. Everybody is so scared of skunks, dashing at the mere sight of them. But for me, I get mad at them for dropping by uninvited. And at a safe distance, I usually yell at them and they leave.

Last summer I was vacuuming my pool before sunset. Feeling a presence at my right, I turned to find a skunk had entered my gate, and was reviewing me from the other side of the pool.

"Go back!" I yelled out, with a voice full of authority and confidence. And without hesitation, the young skunk made an about face back through the gate.

I have every right to be mad at them. They dig up all my freshly planted pansies, as well as the dianthus. The skunks stealthily sneak in at night, and dig into the soft soil to nibble at the roots. The next morning I discover the dug soil supporting a semi-withered flower, only to fall dead at my slightest touch, its roots completely gone.

Now for those of you slightly shocked at my stand against skunks, remember, they are peaceful animals and will only spray you if endangered. When cornered, or an aggressor moves in too close, the skunk will face the aggressor and stomp the ground as a warning. At this point the attacker should reconsider and flee. If not, the skunk will turn and spray the threat, up to fifteen feet with deadly accuracy.

Knowing this, I've never come that close to my silent stalkers. I find staring and shouting at them to leave does the trick.

On any given night I might be awakened by a trespasser toppling over a flowerpot. Then I'm reminded of who's out there by that horrid stench that seems to permeate the walls. I do hate that stink, however I can assume the scavenging skunks think I stink for confronting them and demanding they leave my flower gardens alone.

Don't Duck

The pair of mallards must have been lost, for they decided to make a rest stop, and landed in my swimming pool. This had never before happened in my twenty years of pool ownership. The mallard couple, a male and a female, swam around the deep end, paddling sometimes in circles, trying to make friends with a white duck that was there before them. After several unsuccessful tries, the mallards left the host alone and decided to explore what else this rest stop had to offer.

The brown female paddled toward the shallow end, possibly looking for something that just wasn't there. The green-headed male, on the other hand, decided to climb out of the pool and cross the dry cement. He disappeared into the bushes.

About five minutes had passed when the male mallard wobbled back out of the bushes to rejoin his spouse in the water. He obviously had not found what he was looking for either. Regrouping, they both paddled back to the deep, attempting one last communication with the white duck. Still, the duck would not quack with them. So they paddled ever closer to this duck, which was now facing them, and barely a foot away. The couple kept from quacking and just stared at this incredibly rude white duck, for being so averse to interact with them.

Having enough of this inhospitable rest stop host, the mallards took to the air and flew off. The white duck, bobbing its head up and down, still said not a word, for it was not feathered, but plastic.

The Persimmon Birds

But this new breed of bird would not stir. They would not scare away by my jumping and clapping. I even hissed at them. Ignoring me, they kept pecking at the remaining persimmons until there were only a few left for me.

I was in wonder about this new bird; they looked like small bluejays but with light green stomachs. Either they were too caught up in eating the persimmons off my two trees to notice me, or they indeed were fearless.

And so, after a minute of my own squawking, I gave up. It was finally their time, the birds' time to win. Before them, the sparrows scared away very easily. I would run out to my trees and clap, they would scamper in two seconds. The crows would surrender too. These huge birds, landing in my trees in pairs, would take turns taking huge bites of my persimmons on the highest branches. After my live scarecrow show, it seemed the crows had to debate leaving, turning their heads from left to right. Then they would clumsily push off into the air, cawing obscenities at me.

Then the screeching from hell arrived in my trees by the dozens. And hundreds more large green Pasadena parrots filled the nearby skies, awaiting their turn to land in masses. At first I was shocked by the invasion, then running outside in pajamas, actually took a moment to admire these beautiful birds hanging upside down ripping my harvest to shreds. These picturesque yet noisy birds sported red feathers on their heads. But nevertheless, I snapped from my short stupor and clapped only once. Scattering them in an instant, all screeching back at me as if I ruined their vacation buffet. These pretty parrots were the most scaredy-cat of all the birds. I guess they were chickens.

So I let this first new batch of birds with green chests stay in my persimmon trees, and win. It wasn't a total win for the birds, for I had spent the last two months picking persimmons by the hundreds and giving boxes away to friends, and pairs to passersby. I also walked back into the house knowing, in the big picture, I had won. For I had eaten with great enjoyment at least one persimmon every day the past two months, and sometimes more!

Job Interviews

Isn't it ironic when you don't get a job you've interviewed for, and the interviewer says, "Good luck?" Wouldn't luck mean getting the job?

There are times in the past when I wish I had been more assertive in my interviews and not taking "no" for an answer so quickly.

Not being able to break through the low glass ceiling at Disney years ago, I applied for a "strategic planning" position. The recruiter spent her time explaining all the reasons why I didn't have the background for this cross-lateral position. Trying to be professional I answered confidently, "I can respect your position," which seemed to please the recruiter. So then I didn't get the job, and asked myself, "Where did I get that answer from and why did I use it?" I've regretted it since! I should have insisted on continuing with the interviewing process, since this recruiter was only a first-step screener. After all, my current position was a human resources coordinator, when my background was in film production!

Lasik Eye Surgery

I just had lasik, and am on my third day of recovery. I'm glad I did it. I had put the procedure off for several years. The first reason was price. I was waiting for it to come down as the technology improved. The second reason, which took up all of last year, was fear. I just couldn't bring myself to accept the fact that a laser would be cutting into my cornea, and I'd feel it.

But I needed to make a decision because my eyesight had changed for the worse. Since I'm no longer in my thirties, my glasses no longer held ground for both near and far vision. Traditionally near-sighted, I now found myself having to take off my glasses to read or crunch numbers, then put them back on if I had to look up at someone, or somewhere. My eyes would take a long moment to adjust which began dragging me down at work, and I'm an accountant. I also got tired of taking my glasses off at restaurants to read the menu and see my food, but not being able to see the person I was eating with. Blurry dates were no fun.

Progressive lenses were a less expensive option. I would be able to have the best of both worlds (visions) without the old fashioned line bisecting them in half. But having worn glasses for the last thirty years, I was ready for a new look. A better look, one where everyone told me I looked better "without my glasses."

So I called the long-postponed ophthalmologist and scheduled the appointment. Surprisingly, the surgery would only take about ten minutes; five per eye.

After a series of eye tests I was handed a tiny Valium to take. Then I was told to lie down on the bed, facing the ceiling. The room was dust free, as the doctor, her assistant, and I all wore shower caps and foot caps.

She covered my left eye with tape in order to operate on the right eye first. Having my eyelids taped open bothered a bit, and I feared when the tape would be pulled off, but it was just a hint of what soon was to come; an experience.

Several drops were put into my right eye, probably an anesthetic, because I did not feel at all when the doctor placed a metal clamp in my eye to keep it open. Then she adjusted it wider. Still staying with the experience, I felt like saying, "A Clockwork Orange."

But immediately after, I heard a buzzing, and a huge spaceship-like laser machine hovered over my face just inches from me. It looked just like the mother ship from "Close Encounters," complete with two panels of eight white lights each, with three spider-like lights dancing between them. Two red, with the center one green. I was told to focus on the green.

The green light soon blurred and things became dark. My eye felt like it was being sucked out. I found myself clutching my fists to endure the uncomfortable feeling. I heard the sound of a small drill working, which was actually the laser. Then the stench of something burnt entered my nose. I held my breath, not wanting to smell the cutting of my own cornea.

Soon the pain was over and I relaxed my fists. The doctor asked me how I felt while pulling out the clamp and tape. Trying to remain a good sport, I responded I was fine, only to be told we'd do the left eye next.

Following the same procedure again, I finally was helped off the operating table and lead to my ride home. Being forewarned, my eyes immediately shut as I placed my new "Terminator" sunglasses on, and stayed shut for the next six and a half hours.

Making a long story short for that day, taking Tylenol kept the pain at bay. Upon falling asleep with my new protective, ultra-geek goggles, I worried my eyes would be stuck shut the next morning. But they weren't, and I could see! A week's worth of three different types of drops in my eyes, combined with three weeks' worth of my brain accepting this surgery, and I'd have fine vision!

I'm now three days into recovery and so glad the procedure and moderate pain are long gone. I can't wait for week three when my brain tells my two eyes all is well and I can see close and far again. [This story was hand written three days after the surgery, but typed into this blog three weeks after].

The Drinker

Copyright 2003

I’m not much of a drinker, but I did go to a bar with a buddy and observed the other customers sitting along side me. They all looked like poor, lost souls. I imagined myself as one of them, and this is what I came up with.

Lost souls sitting at the bar,

Drinking their lives away,

Not needing to go far.

Hurt souls crying at the bar,

Drinking away their loved ones,

Who have run away so far.

Come join us as we cry from within,

Smiling on the outside,

Inside things are grim.

One more shot of vodka,

One last swig of beer.

How I wish all my friends,

Were still with me here.

Here tonight,

And here tomorrow,

Drink away my hurt and sorrow.

Remembering not the things of a smile,

Only sad times,

That were never worthwhile.

Come drink with us,

the dark group of lost souls,

Fallen from grace and heaven,

Abandoning our roles.

We all were once such happy beings,

Dancing in the sun.

But years of uphill battles,

Made life difficult to be won.

If you look deep in your heart,

You may stay strong, not fall apart.

But if you step inside to drink,

The spirits will drown you,

Once you blink.

You think of happy times before,

Gone forever, nevermore.

And time runs out, far from your side.

This bar is refuge,

Where you can hide.

Will you ever come back, my love, to me?

Or are you really gone,

Never to see?

For here I am,

and here I stay,

Another round of vodka,

To help me float away.

Float away to that place I stay,

Deep within my mind.

The liquid spirits carry me,

To places hard to find.

Another shot, but it’s the last,

Another horrid night has passed.

To fall again, then helped to my feet.

I climb to my new home, my seat.

The bartender, my best friend now,

Will pour me no more,

When I lie on the floor.

I look at him,

and plead with a tear,

Just one more, I swear it,

For morning is near.

And when morning arrives,

And a new day comes forth,

I’m lonely and dying,

For the bar, my self-worth.