The Return of the Rabid Squirrels

They're back.

I refer, of course, to the killer squirrels who have made consistent (if failed) attempts on my home and life for the past four years.

As I sit typing these words, I face a vent in the wall. Attached behind the vent is a long silver air duct tube. And from that tube for the last 20 minutes have come the sounds of scrambling, scurrying, and the click-clack of the nails of a creature that is drawing closer... closer...

Pounding on the wall doesn't work. Rattling the vent doesn't work. Shining a high-powered flashlight down the tube while screaming "Go away!" makes the scrambling pause, but only until I click the light off.

Is it squirrels? Mice? Rabid termites? Who the hell knows. Or cares. Andy Rooney could be hiding in my vent system and my only comment on finding out would be, "Get him out of here."

It's hard to focus on writing when my eyes constantly stray to the vent. At any given moment I expect glowing red malevolent eyes to glare back at me from behind their vented prison. The way I see it, I have several options:

1. Ignore the sounds and hope whatever is making them will go away. (A confession: This has been my plan of attack this past week. It doesn't seem to be working...)
2. Yell "Eat hot death!" as I throw handfuls of rat poison pellets down the tube. Only I'm thinking throwing poison down a vent designed to circulate air to my home may not be the smartest use of my time.
3. Cave and call the exterminator people who charged me the GNP of a small country last year when they removed the squirrels from our home.
4. Curl into the fetal position and make Blair deal with it when he gets home from work.

Am I running an animal hotel? We've still got the stray cat under our house and now this.

The noises have stopped as I write this blog. I think whatever it is senses I'm planning against it. If you don't see a new blog entry from me tomorrow, you'll know something here at home went very, very wrong...

Popcorn, Beer, & Changes in Time

Here's a question: Does time differ for you on the weekends than it does during the week?

It surely does for me and I commented on it yesterday to Blair. It seems as if I have all the time in the world on Saturday and Sunday, and even though I sleep in and dawdle over many tasks, I feel like I get so much more done than I do in the same time frame on a weekday. Why is that?

Yesterday (Sunday) for example, we slept in a bit with the time change, got up and leisurely read the paper. Then Blair did some gardening work while I finished up some articles that were due today. Then I went for a run. Then we both showered and blew over 2 hours in front of the TV, watching the ACC championship game (Sorry, Wolfpack). Then we went for a 4 mile walk, then the grocery store, then hung outside with the neighbors.

(I must digress . When we came home from the store, our neighbors were attempting to chainsaw through a dead tree in their front yard and push it into the street and the whole block was standing around watching them. Blair went to help the men and I joked to Pat, the woman's house we were in front of, that a good hostess would provide snacks. I didn't notice Pat disappear, but 10 minutes later she appeared with bowls of hot popcorn. Then M., the homeowner whose tree was being felled, brought out beer for everyone. So we ate popcorn, drank beer, and joked around for 40 minutes while we watched this tree come down. I love, love, love my little town.)

Anyway, after all that we came back and I cooked and Blair did taxes and so on. I felt like the day was slow and leisurely, yet we accomplished a ton. Now it's Monday, I have the same amount of hours, and I feel like I get nowhere close to the same amount of work done. Why??? Does anyone else experience this? I'd love to hear people's thoughts on this.

Making it Happen

Blair drove into Greensboro this morning for a haircut, so I rode along and had him drop me off at Battleground Park for a run. I hopped out of the car at 7 AM, jogged for 46 minutes, then walked for 10 minutes until he pulled in to get me.

It was a lovely morning. Crisp but not freezing. Older people were bundled up with scarves and hats walking dogs of all ages and sizes. A few running groups and individual runners were out but not the throngs of runners that tend to show up closer to 8-9 AM. The runners and I nodded a "aren't we out here early" grunt at one another as we passed.

I used to live in the apartments behind Battleground Park when I first moved to Greensboro. That's how I lost my weight from college. I was new to town and knew no one, so I spent many a Saturday and Sunday walking, then eventually jogging, the parks. Back then in my twenties, I used to jog one time or maybe one and half times around the park. Today, in my mid-30's, I whipped off 2 plus laps with little effort. I love being in better shape now then I was then.  I still need to get my speed up, but that will come with practice this summer.

It's still a battle of wills to get myself outside to do it. It was still dark out when I got dressed for the run this morning and I was thinking, "I could just stay home and run around here," knowing full well I wouldn't go as long or as far as I would if I were "stuck" in a park. Then driving there I was thinking, "I could just go sit in a Starbucks and sip hot coffee and read the paper while Blair gets his hair cut." But once I got there and started running, I was fine. I enjoyed it, had a great run, and was glad I went.

Pushing through. That's the key.

Running Music

My I-pod is in a little funk in that our computer refuses to recognize it. Which is killing me because I bought some new running music I'm eager to download.

I run to the oddest song choices. The song I'm dying to download (and which I'm grooving to on the computer at full volume as I type this) is "My First, My Last, My Everything" by the late, great Barry White. Brings back fond Ally McBeal memories. Good beat and good lyrics to run to.

My other songs of choice for running include:

• Crazy Train by Ozzy Ozborne. I was never a fan back in the day but dang--the guy can actually sing. And this is as close to the perfect running song I've ever found in terms of fun and tempo
• Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. This was blaring before the start of the half-marathon and I feel pumped every time I hear it. "With tramps like us, baby we were born to ruuuuuuuunnnnn.....!"
• Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. Gotta get my country in. I've also got a little Dixie Chicks, Toby Keith and Sara Evans
• Veronica by Elvis Costello. LOVE this song. Great tempo and rather a sad, upbeat song all at once.
• She Works Hard for the Money by Donna Summer. I see the video in my mind as I run.
• Suddenly I see by KT Tunstall. Theme goodbye song from "So You Think You Can Dance."
• The Glamourous Life by Sheila E. - Bring back the 80's!!

That's a small sampling. Some days I run to Simon & Garfunkel or Olivia Newton John and there's a lot of Aerosmith.  What about my readers? What songs motivate you while you sweat? (At the gym, that is. Let's keep it clean, people...)