Long ago, when I was a bit more spontaneous, I did something so out of character in weirdness that my family still requires strong drink when the story is retold. If you don't have an adult beverage in hand, you might want to pause and fix one, or if you're reading this at breakfast just splash a little vodka over your cheerios.
When our son was in middle school, he developed a fixation, an adoration, an absolute passion for - raccoons. Well, in his defense, the little critters do have an adorable face, who can resist that mask of mischief and those dexterous paws. For my Christmas gift that year, he and the Spousal Unit built a magnificent bird feeder, with a large open platform to allow many birds to dine simultaneously. What we didn't realize until spring arrived, and hibernation ended, was that the area raccoons would designate our feeder as the Dependable Buffet and arrive on schedule each night to devour the seeds and suet block to the very last and delicious crumb.
The same family group came with such regularity that we were able to distinguish individuals and soon gave them names as befitted their features, dining manners and girth. Well, one morning after the school bus had scooped up the kids and I set out on my morning walk, there, next to the gutter, was one of "our" raccoons, hit by a car and expired. Now, to understand what followed this discovery, you have to appreciate how relentless our son was in his pleas for a raccoon. He had raccoon posters, raccoon pictures, raccoon notebooks and a stained glass raccoon in the window of his room. Each night as the crew arrived we sat together watching their feeding frenzy. To say we had bonded with this tribe of midnight bandits would be very accurate.
Seeing this little fellow, deceased and preserved by the night's cold, ignited a thought in my mind. Like the proverbial lightbulb of inspiration, this was a
super nova of an idea. I raced home, got the minivan, and unrolling the old rug kept in the back (because not only are Scouts well prepared, so are their mothers) rolled the little raccoon into the rug and hoisted it into the van. I zipped over to the nearest taxidermist found in the yellow pages and asked the man for an estimate. When he said $300 and a six month wait I was nearly faint. That was too much even for my heartfelt desire to please the future service dude, so I sadly folded up the rug and took the raccoon home, completely absorbed in my loss - because by now I had kind of bonded with Rory. Yes I named him, are you judging me?
So back home, with the now thawed raccoon, I was beginning to appreciate the obvious. Namely, he had to be "disposed" of, and rather quickly. Calling Animal Control seemed callous, since they toss roadkill into the regional landfill. Yuck. Rory needed dignity and a proper send off. I hustled around preparing for burial, getting a tarp, shovel, gloves and the wheelbarrow. I trotted my equipment out back below our landscaping and fenced yard, and started to dig a hole. While it was April, the ground proved to be a tad bit frozen, and well, it was hard digging. I dug for several hours and was getting a bit hot and bothered, and more than a bit weepy, wanting to finish before our son got home from school to see the Circle of Life in brutal closeup.
When the hole finally seemed deep enough, and I was smeared with sweat, dirt and frustration, I placed Rory, wrapped in his rug, into the wheelbarrow and trotted him out back. By now, the neighbors were taking an interest and perhaps thought the Spousal Unit had met an untimely end and I was even now trying to hide the body. Rory had gained at least 20 pounds over the preceding hours, and rolling him into the hole did not go as I had imagined. His plump butt fell in first, and he rolled into the much too small hole as if sitting up for a treat, head peeking out of the hole.
Dear Lord!! I was exhausted, the hole was too small and the ground frozen, and I was not only exhausted but competing against the clock. I decided that if I heaped enough dirt over Rory's head and "gently" pressed down, it might work. Picture me gently jumping on the mound trying to compress Rory and that's close to what happened. I decided heaping rocks on was a good touch to keep something from digging Rory up like a zombie raccoon, and also a good memorial.
So, after a refreshing shower, and a very late lunch to restore my spirits, I was composed and calm by the time our son returned from school. I gently broke the news that Rory had gone to Raccoon Heaven and while I thought he could have been preserved by taxidermy, the cost was prohibitive. I was met by a blend of classic teenage indifference and horror.
Him: you were going to put a dead raccoon in my room?? Me: Well, not exactly, he would have been preserved by taxidermy. Him: So his DEAD EYES would stare at me while I slept??? Me: um, well, you could turn him to face the corner at night? And they put in glass eyes anyway. Him: Mother, You Need Help.
Kids - they're impossible to please. Rock on Rory.
The last week's prep work for a Garden Sale: soaps and gardener's hand balm. Mmm it's too bad there isn't a scratch and sniff feature. It's that good. Enclicken to enlarge photos.
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We (well I did, the guys were humoring me) had a delightful afternoon browsing the various art shops filled with pottery (yay), jewelry, Irish clothing, and gourmet food shops. The store we over indulged in sold balsamic vinegars and olive oils infused with delicious flavors, the shop owner graciously arranged for us to have them shipped home. It was almost like a wine tasting, with wee cups and spoons to sample the varieties. I can hardly wait to macerate fresh summer fruits in the chocolate raspberry vinegar, and The Spousal Unit has plans for the jalapeño lime oil to baste pork chops on the grill. 
He and his father always have projects when they are together, some just plain fun. They constructed a large Lego StarWars Walker, to add to the collection begun nearly 30 years ago. That's how our holidays have always been spent, with the two of them sharing in transforming thousands of minute pieces into a pirate ship, a space vehicle or aircraft. I am just thrilled not to have to dust them any longer. TSU also caulked a shower, glued carpet to basement steps, and the two of them built two enormous work tables in the basement for weapons cleaning and a basic work bench. Our timing was perfect to catch the flowering trees, the plums, cherry and apple blossoms were out in profusion, the air was delightfully perfumed.
