I sold those dishes! And no I didn't spend some of the money on fast food. Please. (Jack in the Box.)
I'm also working on a truly hideous scarf that I kept trying to tell myself I liked because I'm gaudy, and then as I was knitting I came across a big patch of yarn that had maple syrup on it and realized I HATED THAT SCARF. I tried to wash it off and then I put it in a bag so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. ANY. MORE.
But really, I think I like it a lot because that thing is ugly.
Oh man, I was just reminded of the time when there were raccoons fighting outside of my bedroom in high school. I woke up in a cold sweat and heard this horrible hissing and barking outside and was convinced there were rabid dogs near my window. When I looked out I saw two raccoons hissing and snarling at each other and suddenly? My image of cute little raccoons was ruined forever.
Those stupid raccoons were destructive. And I just realized maybe I shouldn't tell the story I was actually going to tell. No, I will. The raccoons were a problem, getting under everyone's mobile homes and having babies under the floor and eating all of Cinnamon's food and washing their creepy human looking fingers in his water every night. So my dad got a permit and a trap from Fish and Wildlife to catch them, and they said feel free to trap and kill them because they were a problem.
During that time I was on my way home from a choir trip and called to check in. I don't remember how he got around to it, but my dad said he had killed a raccoon. Even though we didn't own guns I think I asked if he shot it. When he said no, I asked if he broke its neck. "Broke its neck? I'm not sticking my arm in there with a hissing raccoon. I drowned it."
WHAAAT IS THIS
And my dad proceeded to say that he put cinder blocks together and stuck a tarp in it, essentially making an above ground pool, if you will. He filled it with water and put the cage, raccoon included, into it. Dad just emailed me. I am supposed to call this the Pit of Death.
THE RING OF FIRE
But isn't it saying something about how manly I think my dad is that I thought he broke a raccoon's neck? I have this totally butch image of my dad. In my head he is the epitome of manliness, riding a tyrannosaurus rex through the burning wasteland. You know, punching sharks and stuff. There are sharks on land in this terrifying future.
Really he just likes to play puzzles and doesn't actually enjoy being the designated raccoon killer of the family.
Um, anyway, Jesse and I went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium last weekend. Sharkbait, hoo ha ha.
I sent my parents an email about the raccoon story to get their feedback. While my dad wrote, "be sure to accurately describe the Pit of Death," my mother said, "I was not involved. I thought the whole idea was madness." Those two sentences regarding the same story describe my parents perfectly.