Chipmunk Protection Program

There is a killer lurking in our family… so cold-blooded that with each victim, a pride beams on his face that seems to say “I do this for you.”

His name is Jordy. And he’s our cat. Each day is an adventure with Jordy. Because we have a dog who uses a dog door, we also have a cat that is free to roam the great outdoors. We never know what struggling, half-dead creature from the wilderness he will lay at our feet next. This behavior in cats is very common. It is how they display their value to the pride. However, with my husband and me, it has the opposite effect, making us question our judgment for adding him to the pride in the first place.

Our home has three levels and there will be some days when I’m doing laundry upstairs and I hear the squawk of a bird that cannot escape Jordy’s long-clawed grasp. I dread going downstairs. The constant pressure of knowing that I’m the only chance at rescue that sparrow has is more than I can bear sometimes. That little guy’s fate rests in my bird-fearing hands.

Other days, (and these are my least favorite) he brings us those giant buzzing bugs that make a sound like a hand buzzer in Jordy’s clamped teeth. That’s when I calmly and quietly lock myself in the bathroom with my cell phone and text my husband downstairs. I remind him that critter control is in his job description as a husband and that no one eats dinner until he has exiled said critter.

But worst of all, is Jordy’s favorite victim, the chipmunk. Did you know that chipmunks can run really fast? Did you know they can collapse their skeletons and fit underneath closed doors? Not so easy to rescue, I assure you. But hubby and I have it down to an art. Our critter rescue kit consists of three items: A shoebox without the lid, a broom, and an album cover. Any album cover will do. Ours is a collection of Irish ballads with a misspelling on the cover that reads “The Green Grass of Ireland: Traditional Irish Folksongs Your Going to Love.”

To rescue a chipmunk, it takes two people. One person holds the broom and yells “BOOGA BOOGA” at the little rodent to get him cornered in an area free from furniture. The other person takes the shoe box and slams it down on top of the little guy. Don’t feel bad if you don’t get him the first time. It actually takes about 37 tries before you wear him down and he runs slowly enough to trap. Then slide your Irish ballads, or Barry Manilow, or that William Shatner Sings album cover under the box slowly and carefully. Carry the album with the box outside to a non-disclosed location and set him free under the chipmunk protection program.

Then when the cat brings him in again, repeat steps 1-3.

Taming the Junk Monster

Do you know why I love baskets so much? I wish I could tell you it was because they’re made from natural materials and reuse found items or come from a renewable resource.

No, I like baskets because they’re a pretty way to store junk you don’t exactly know what to do with.

As I’ve told you before, my home is more chaos than order. And as a working mom, there are many piles of things I had meant to do something with but just never got around to it. The bigger baskets are wonderful to keep in each room so you can throw things in them for years at a time and then forget you even owned these items. So my goal this past month was to purge the junk and find as many ways to repurpose it as possible so as not to have it all end up in a landfill.

There is a basket on my dining room floor that originally was meant to hold decorative cloth napkins so that you could see the pretty colors even when the table wasn’t set. Last week I put the basket up on the table to see what was in it now. Here’s what I found:

3 DVD’s (two of which had no cases)
14 pens
6 pencils
1 Tiger Beat magazine from 2007
1 yo-yo
1 unwrapped Tootsie Roll (at least I hope that’s what it was)
1 deck of cards minus the king of spades.

Oh, and at the bottom, the unseen, dust covered, cloth napkins

Unload any of the dozens of baskets in my house and you’ll find a multitude of carnival prizes, birthday goodie bag treats, missing puzzle pieces, and unfinished crafts. Most of it, just junk.

My husband, bless his heart, suggested having a garage sale. I can’t think of a darker place in hell to be than sitting in my garage taking the time to dust off and mark a bud vase for 25 cents that no one will buy because they have 18 of them sitting in their own baskets around their own house. Nope, for me garage sales are a lot of work for very little pay off. But hey, if it works for you? Have at it!

Here’s how I tackled the Gang Green junk monster. First step is to send the kids with my hubby to the pool for the day so they don’t know I’m ridding them of the burden of Happy Meal toys they never played with in the first place.

Next I grabbed all the grocery bags from my own personal plastic vortex in my laundry room which is one big shopping bag stuffed full of hundreds of small bags. The Kroger bags were for paper recycling. That included the 51 card deck I found and the 3 Christmas cards left in the box, and puzzles with missing pieces, et cetera.

The Wal-Mart bags were for the Salvation Army donations. Home dec items I never put up. Picture frames I didn’t fill. One ceramic goose (don’t ask).

The Target bags were for all the small toys that were never that loved. This would make a sad Disney/Pixar movie but honestly, it’s them or me. Broken went in the trash. Then, I filled up my sink with soap and hot water and soaked all the usable toys so I wouldn’t stay awake at night wondering if germs from the last bout of bronchitis ended up on a Slinky somewhere.

Then it was time for distribution. The seven Kroger bags went into my own recycling bin. Then I headed for the Salvation Army drop-off with 5 Wal-Mart bags. Don’t forget the receipt for tax time! Then I stopped at my dentist office and donated a bag of toys for the “Treasure Chest”. Next, I headed to the doctor’s office with more treasures for the waiting room. Then I took the rest to the elementary school where teachers give them as rewards.

When I returned home, there was a big “Yay Me!” welling up inside of me and since everyone was still at the pool I high-fived the dog. He wasn’t nearly as excited as I was. But with the junk purged I had a new lease on life so I rearranged the living room furniture just for fun. When I moved the couch, I looked down to find the king of spades looking up at me. So I threw him in the nearest basket. Don’t worry, I’ll get to him soon.