Success?

So the mouse is dead. I caved and got a trap that kills and it did the trick. Dead mouse, check.

In other news, I finally joined Facebook. I finally realized after yet another get together with friends I thought I was in touch with that there is this whole other level of "in touchedness" that I am not part of. But like it or not Facebook is slowly killing off such totally useful but now obsolete things like email, IM, and cell phones. All the ways we used to keep in touch are now secondary, dare I say tertiary, to Facebook. And b/c I like keeping up with my friends and seeing pictures of Chandler's first day of kindergarden, I joined. Sheep, lemming, in touchedness, check.

That's all for now. . . I have to go count my friends and figure out what the heck Mob Wars is.

In Response to a Comment

So, I actually do read the comments you guys leave . . . I love them actually. They make me feel like I have sort of hung out with you a bit, like we sort of had a conversation and touched base.

ANYWAY, Dave's recent comment about sponsoring a competition to build/design a humane mouse removal system made me laugh because it reminded me of one of my favorite stories about one of my favorite people. Let's call this favorite person of mine Dot. .

Approximately 50 yrs ago when I was in college, I took a wood working/sculpture art class. Dot . . was in the class with me and we had the greatest, hippy dippy pot head, free spirited, prof on the planet. I am pretty sure her name was Willow or Pond Frond or something like that. She really might have been the very definition of "Art Professor at a Liberal Arts College" . . . only maybe more so if it were circa 1972 and we were at Berkley. But whatever you get my drift, she saw beauty in everything and applauded all effort regardless of talent.

Well, one of our assignments was to build a trap. In her free spirited way she didn't define the assignment any more clearly that that. As you can imagine this made me nearly apoplectic and made Dot . . just ignore the assignment. So a few weeks went by and on presentation day Dot . . appeared in class frazzled and holding what sort of resembled a mini McDonalds constructed out of scrap wood and covered in still wet paint. The ensuing conversation when something like this:

me: what is that?
Dot.. : a mouse trap.
me: it sort of looks like a McDonalds
Dot.. : it is. its a McDonalds mouse trap
me: how does it trap mice?
Dot.. : they smell the delicious fries, come through the front doors and get trapped b/c the doors only open inwards.
Dot.. : shut up
me: and who's making the fries in there? other mean spirited mice? i mean you can't fit a cat in there.
Dot.. : shut up

The greatest part of this story is that Willow Pond Frond completely overlooked the fact that there was a drive thru (let alone a staff of hair netted misanthropic mice) thereby completely negating any sort of effective trapping and gave Dot . . an A on the assignment.

So, Dave the most humane of all mouse traps has already been designed. I just need to staff it with meanie mice, teach them how to make fries, and put a mini pylon cone in the drive thru, and I am all set.

In case you were wondering, my trap was the Corporate Trap. It consisted of a business suit and button up shirt purchased at Goodwill that I converted into a straight jacket. It was my short lived rebellion against grown ups asking me what I was going to do after college.

Arguably the best trap was crafted by a female classmate who dragged a lazy boy recliner into the art studio, put a cooler of beer and a bag of chips next to it and surrounded the whole thing with a shower curtain covered in taped up pictures of Victoria Secret and Sport Illustrated Swim Suit models. She called it, The Man Trap.

Metaphors

I recently learned where the term Humble Pie came from and its gross. Not as gross as that guy's butt cut-mustashe combo but close.

The term comes from "umbles pie", umbles being the innards or leftover parts of cows, sheep, goat, whathaveyou. So umbles were what was left over after all the good stuff went to the rich folk. Ergo, someone who was "eating umbles pie" was so po they had to eat icky leftover parts.

Some how in the olden days, eating left over remnant animal parts was humbling. Today you'd pay $6 for the tubular equivalent at a ball park and feel all American pastimey about it.

Humble Pie is also a band from the 1970s . . .


In case you were wondering, it is definitely a mouse eating my maters. I found wee little poops on the stove the other night (this definitely rules Kelly out). It is also apparently on steroids, because despite the placement of a rather heavy (by mouse terms of course, I mean their arms are like a half inch long) ceramic plate the pest got into the tomatoes and ate half of one leaving the rest to goo out all over the others.

I have still not entirely warmed to the mouse trap idea but I'm getting there.

A Mouse in the House

For real, we have a mouse in the house. How do I know this, you might wonder. Well, oddly enough not through any of the tell tale mouse-in-the-house indicators:

mini poops scattered about - nope, not a one
little gnaw marks on plastic bags full of cookies - also nope
the patter-skid of little mouse feet when you walk into the kitchen - thankfully, uh uh
a half eaten piece of cheese strategically left out on the couter - nope, the freaking chunk of cheese didn't have so much as whisker marks on it from a curious mouse sniffing

So, how do I know there is a mouse in the house . . . b/c it keeps eating my tomatoes. Every morning I walk out to my garden and I pick a bountiful supply of tomatoes. I bring them inside and put them in this nice little wicker'ish basket. And there they sit until I get home in the evening and make a salad or a sauce or slice up some mozz and basil.

Well the other morning as I was loading up the wicker basket with a new batch of maters I noticed that one of the ones on the top from yesterday's heap had the middle chewed out of it. I was flabbergasted. Only one of them was eaten out of and the little bugger didn't even have the courtesy to finish it. Just a few mouse mouthfulls and off he went.



I really wasn't convinced it was a mouse b/c it was only one tomato and it was sort of a smallish "bite" and all the other dry goods on our counter top were left totally unmolested. So I thought maybe it was a bug of some sort. Well the next morning, same thing, different tomato. So, I took to covering my wicker basket-o-tomatoes with a plate. This seemed to work rather effectively for several days. And I figured it was totally some icky punk bug and not a mouse and moved on. I mean a tomato eating mouse? Odd, right?

Then one evening I forgot to replace the plate after using some of the tomatoes. The next morning, TWO tomatoes had bite holes in their middles. The little stinker had totally just been waiting for me to get careless. So now I am finding it really hard to believe that this is a a bug b/c, not that mice are known for their acumen but I sort of couldn't bring myself to credit a bug with that sort of laying in wait strategery.

My counter move? I put a piece of cheese right in front of the wicker basket and went to bed. The next morning . . . NADA. I dunno maybe there is some sort of mouse school they all go to that teaches them that if ever there is cheese just laying about it is most certainly a trap. But whatever, this mouse bypassed the cheese and went straight for the tomatoes.

I actually started getting suspicious that this was Kelly, sneaking into the kitchen after I had gone to bed and carving out a little hole in the tomatoes just to get a kick out of me getting all worked up and playing Nancy Drew and the Mysterious Vegetarian Mouse. I in fact became some convinced of this that I confronted her on it when I found yet another gnawed on tomato After she worked through her fit of laughter she pointed out that there were actually little mouse teeth marks on the tomato.

So, we have a mouse in the house. Kelly wants to kill it. I am having a hard time getting on board with that. She said that if I could find a way to gently trap it she'd be happy to go dispose of it in some field somewhere. As of yet I have not found any mouse traps that do not either snap the neck of the the mouse or glue his little feet to a box bottom until he starves to death. I dislike both of those options.

I sort of feel like my tomato plants are yielding enough tomatoes for both of us. And I am intrigued by this little guy. I mean what sort of mouse bypasses cheese for veggies? A special sort of mouse, I say. . . and I think Erica would agree.

In case you were wondering why I keep using the masculine pronoun to refer to the mouse, I think it is because when I was a kid two of my favorite books were Stuart Little and The Mouse and the Motorcycle. Both of those mice were boy mice.

Mankind is Noodlekind

Yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of the instant noodle phenom Ramen Noodles. They were invented in 1958 by Momofuku Ando and today nearly 100 billion are sold each year (this is totally gross to me). Almost more popular than the noodles themselves is Ando, who despite being entirely unknown to the hundreds of college students who consider ramen a suitable form of sustenance, is somewhat of a hero in his home country of Japan.

Ando developed Ramen Noodles at the age of 48 in response to the Japanese post war food shortage. At the time it was highly desired but considered a luxury item b/c of its high cost of Y35 (~75 cents, this is how hard life was in post war Japan). Thirteen years later Ando unveiled Ramen Cup Noodles, which we can thank for dropping the cost to like 14 cents a package and for the proliferation of completely non biodegradable polystyrene containers.

As a result of Ando's commitment to the development of food like products the Japanese government awarded him with numerous medals and accolades. His highest honor was receiving the The Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Star, Second Class. This is the 2nd most prestigious Japanese decoration for Japanese civilians. Perhaps if he had invented SPAM he would have scored the Gold and Silver Star, First Class.

In addition to all of his major awards, In April of 2008 a statue of Ando was unveiled in front of the Nissin's Instant Ramen Museum. I can't even imagine how NOT fascinating that museum must be. The statue's unveiling was attended by (and I quote) "Japanese dignitaries" who were there in attendance of The World Instant Noodle Summit. Yeah, seriously.

This of course is actually pretty small potatoes in comparison to the fact that when Ando passed away in January of 2007 they held his funeral in a baseball stadium with 6 thousand people in attendance. The funeral included speeches by the Prime Minister and a goodie bag that contained, among others things, a Cup of Noodles and a copy of a book of Ando's famous sayings.

I find the whole thing wonderfully inane. I mean he stepped up and fed hungry people in a hard time in Japan's history and had the story ended there I believe Ando would be rightly considered a heroic pioneer. The fact that soggy noodles in salty water with dehydrated corn or its sibling brick-o-noodles has lived on to this very day, does not take away from his innovation in a time of need but it sure is entertaining.

In case you were wondering, here are a few Ando gems:

"I invented instant ramen when I was 48 and Cup Noodles at 61. In life, there is no such thing as too late."

When you enter a market, do it slowly. When you withdraw, do it quickly."

"Flavors taste best to those who appreciate them"

and his most famous: "Mankind is Noodlekind."

Have You Missed Me?

In case you were wondering . . .

The US Women's team has beaten Japan 4-2 and will be advancing to the final gold medal game on Thursday 8/21 at 9am EST (probably on MSNBC). They will be playing Brazil who beat Germany 4 -1 earlier this morning.

If someone at the restaurant Julip in Jackson, MS tells you that it is "Free glass of wine night" and then goes on to explain that means that if you order a full bottle you get a free glass, what they mean is that if you order a full bottle of wine you a free EMPTY glass. No lie. And even if you ask the waitress "does the free glass of wine apply to dessert wines?" Her answer will be "yeah" and then will have no compunction charging you.

If you are a fan of the Pogues and enjoy music in Irish pubs, you should check out the band Flogging Molly. If you have ears you should check out the band Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.

Ok that's all for now. Go USA.

A Heavy Heart

In case you were wondering, the US Women's Olympic soccer team lost to Norway 2-0 this morning in their opening match. It was a poor performance from the US. Far beneath their potential. Which, as frustrating as that is, is also hopeful that they'll step it up for their next two games and this Norwegian blunder will become irrelevant.

If you weren't wondering, that might be because you had no idea that the Olympics had even started. And officially, they haven't but since there are so many soccer matches to play they start those game a few days early.

Or maybe you weren't wondering because you don't really care about/follow women's soccer. Well, let's see if we can change that. Because you should care, if only for the next 18 days.

Here is a quick cheat sheet: There are 12 teams divided into three Groups: E, F, G (the men have 16 teams and are groups A, B, C, & D). The top two teams from each group advance plus the top two 3rd place teams from the three groups. In their group (G) the US faces, Norway (done not good), Japan (tough but beatable), and New Zealand (krazy kiwis just tied Japan). Confused? Ok, just cheer for the US. After the loss they just suffered, they're going to need all the remote cheering you can muster.

There next game is against Japan on 8/9 at 5:00am on the USA Network (my mom suggests using your TiVo). I know, its early. But hey the Olympics only comes around every 4 years (well the summer edition). And if you can't really muster the energy to watch soccer at the butt crack of dawn well then just see if you can dream about diving header goals, magical first touches, an impenetrable US goal, and a Red, White, & Blue romp.

In case you have an eagle eye, pay attention when they pan the sidelines and you might catch a glimpse of Erica Walsh, assistant coach of the US Women's Olympic Soccer team.