A Quiet Sunday Afternoon At Home With A Patient On The Mend

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“Ms. Bean, what the heck are you doing this weekend? I see you messing around with frozen peas. Now if it was peanuts I’d understand, but peas? Please explain, I’m all ears.”

•  Looking out the window today I see, beyond an inquisitive squirrel staring in at me, a spring day filled with pale blue sky above leafless gray trees.  A couple of daffodils have made their appearance in the yard, but the forsythia bushes are showing no sign of joining the daffs.

Outside the temperature is in the upper 30s/lower 40s, which is more wintry than springy.  However, I’m not going anywhere today so the weather can do that which it wants to do without me whining about it.

As if I have any control over it to begin with.

•  I’m at home today looking after Zen-Den who had surgery [to correct ptosis] on his eyes on Friday.  His recuperation is going well.  He’s walking around the inside of the house without any trouble, able to see well enough to play Farm Heroes on his iPhone.

And beginning to get bored with the 20 minutes on/20 minutes off post-surgery eye icing schedule.  No longer do the little plastic bags of frozen peas, used to ice his eyes, charm him with their whimsical healing properties.

No, he’s leaning toward grumpy now– and I fear that he’d rather eat the peas than wear them.  But I persevere and follow him around with the little green ice packs, forcing him to use them for at least 10 minutes on/30 minutes off.

This schedule will have to do.

•  And with that I’m off to bake some banana bread.  The surgeon’s office did not specifically mention it as necessary for a proper recuperation, but I figure it can’t hurt.  Zen-Den loves it– and it might just be the thing to coerce him into cooperating with me and those damned little plastic bags of frozen peas.

“If you sit still with your pea packs on for 20 minutes, then you can have a big slice of banana bread afterwards.  Now wouldn’t that be nice?”

Later, kids.  Much to do.

In Which Fuzzy The Squirrel Seems To Blame Me For The Snow

IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANY control over the weather.

However, during this last cold snap I’ve gotten the distinct impression that Fuzzy the Squirrel, our resident goofball + star of many posts, has begun to blame me for the snowfall and wants me to suffer because of it.

I say this because he’s been consistently unwilling to get with the blogging program and permit me the honor of photographing him.  He knows that he is a favorite feature on The Spectacled Bean.

Idiot squirrel.

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THIS NEW BEHAVIOR IS PECULIAR BECAUSE Fuzzy is by nature a show-off who in the past has adored having his photo taken.

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~ ~ • ~ ~

SO WHEN I NOTICED HIM CLIMBING Tree #3479 to his home the other day, I hesitated about grabbing my camera.  I wondered if he’d be in the mood for a photo-op, but I decided to try, figuring that Fuzzy couldn’t hold out much longer.

He needs attention.

Thus it is with great pleasure, and the implied blessing of a narcissistic squirrel, that I give you my latest photograph of Fuzzy the Squirrel, titled: Rodent With Bad Attitude In Winter Our Dear Friend Enjoying Winter.

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One Deck, One Grill, One Squirrel. Of Course.

[Subtitled: Do Squirrels Eat Hamburgers?]

I happened to be walking through the back of our house when I glanced out the patio door onto the deck and noticed that our Weber grill had grown a tail overnight.

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Upon closer examination I noticed that there seemed to be a certain critter hiding behind the grill.  So I bided my time to see if, by chance, this critter was our good old friend, Fuzzy.  It didn’t take long for me to confirm that Fuzzy the Squirrel was back to his annoying tricks.

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From my vantage point inside the house I could see that our friend was using his backside to try to nudge the top off the grill, presumably to get to the hamburger grease + burnt nibbles that were left inside the grill from the night before.

DSCN3515Naturally when I inquired about his sneaky-looking behavior Fuzzy ignored me.  He is a master of indifference, so when he turned his back on me I wasn’t all that surprised.  Instead, I just waited to see what he’d do next, knowing that he can never stay still very long.

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And true to form, with one wistful sideways glance toward the grill, Fuzzy ran away from me along the top of the deck railing toward his home in Tree #3479 in the forest primeval.  It is there, I presume, he found something else to do with his time besides making himself a nuisance on our deck.

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But he also left me wondering if squirrels eat hamburgers.  So I did a quick Google search after which I realized that this question has no reliable answer, but does lead one to an unexpected link to an abstract of an academic paper.  Of course.

The Unsolved Case Of The Purloined Tomatoes

As I was walking around the back of the house on a bright and sunny summer morning I noticed that a red ripe tomato from my container garden on the deck above had fallen onto the path below.

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Curious as always I wondered: How did that happen?  

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So I walked up onto the deck where I discovered more tomatoes off the vine.  Tomatoes with little teeth-y marks on them.  Tomatoes that seemed to have somehow fallen from the vine prematurely.

– • –

Immediately my mind went to our favorite sneak resident squirrel, Fuzzy.  So I bided my time and waited to talk with him when he stopped by for his daily afternoon visit.

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After we exchanged the usual pleasantries, I looked him straight in the eye and asked: Fuzzy, do you notice anything different around here?  There seems to have been a crime committed.  A theft.  

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To his credit Fuzzy took the time to look around before he denied all culpability in the crime.  He looked to his left.

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He looked to his right.

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He glanced immediately below onto the deck.

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Then he suggested that the real culprit in this crime was that nasty old raccoon who lives in the old tree on the other side of the ravine.

– • –

When I mentioned that the nasty old raccoon hadn’t been seen in years and was presumed dead, and therefore incapable of stealing green or red tomatoes, Fuzzy ignored me.  This was of no concern to him.

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Having answered my questions to his satisfaction, Fuzzy then set about doing that which he had come to do: he started licking the terra-cotta pot to get his afternoon salt feast.

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And I was left with the impression that I’d been conned once again by Fuzzy the Squirrel.

– • –