Hungry Like the Wolf
October 5th, 2008
Friday night we were just about to go to sleep, when oh my hell, there was this incessant HOWLING and YELPING and it was … a pack of coyotes, which is apparently par for the course this time of year. This, naturally, led to a search of how to protect your pet in “coyote country” and my God, would you believe it was the ONE TIME Sunny had to go out and pee at midnight and that I brought a GIANT STICK? Because while I am apparently safe, especially now all girth-y like, coyotes like to eat wee dogs such as pugs, and because she’s such a pansy, she doesn’t stand a chance. Also, I can mostly guarantee that all *I’d* be good for is standing around and screaming while some dingo eats my baby.
(Also, PS, another pack just wailed outside AS I TYPE THIS. THE HORROR.)
I’m woefully behind on phone calls and e-mails to friends, and if you are one of them, I apologize. It’s just that the vast majority of my non-work time is now being spent shuffling from random condo to random house and/or making phone calls and asking questions about heating sources and the option for window AC units. It’s becoming a bit ridiculous, although would you believe that we’re actually considering STAYING in our tiny town, rather than moving closer to the city? I KNOW, I never thought it would happen either, especially given its lack of proximity to anything that sells anything at all.
But then I think about the fact that I have lunch with Adam three days a week (yes, we’re lame like that), and how he could walk to work, and be RIGHT THERE if I needed him with a new baby, as opposed to way more than an hour away, and … oh well. I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt that I’ve found approximately four times the amount of totally gorgeous homes here for a lot less money — or, I should say, accurately PRICED places, unlike the strangely, creepily overpriced (VERMONT) city market. Places that include CENTRAL AC, and if anyone remembers my long hot summer of misery, my God, that’s a huge selling point, as I don’t want to drown my baby in pools of my own sweat.
I did find a local mom group (look, I KNOW, but if I’m staying here, I really think I’ll need it), and I’d be sort of lying if I wasn’t strangely attracted to the idea of raising a baby in a small town where neighbors look out for you — my neighbors here are gems, truly, the deep-frying ones aside — and living out some bizarre JC Wiatt Country Baby fantasy. Apparently the hormones are working overtime on all kinds of delusions. We’ll see.
We’ll also see about this place that I’m looking at tomorrow which is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen — it’s a giant loft-like space in a 1930s renovated barn that includes — please wait for it — a 25-seat movie theater included with the house. I … what the …? I don’t know. I do know that it’s totally movie night at our house if we decide to take it. I might also add that Craigslist is completely and utterly useless in this case, and I don’t even look at it anymore. USELESS. Who knew?
In other news (like any of this is NEWS), I have been waking up at 5 a.m. every morning positively STARVING, and this morning at 6, I irritated the entire household by crunching on a pear in bed so loudly that it apparently sounded as though someone was “jackhammering in the bedroom.” Now, I doubt it was like that (A PEAR, come on), but I remember reading other pregnant bloggers’ accounts of late night/early morning wake-ups for snacks and thinking, Seriously? No freaking way.
I’m here to tell you: Way! It happens. I would not have been able to go back to sleep if not for that delightful, life-giving pear. Which reminds me, I had a sort of mystical experience this weekend with a batch of Japanese apple-pears and would now like my own personal supply (they were so good I was GROANING in ecstasy), and WOE, they are at the end of their season. I feel like there should be a special stockpile of all seasonal fruits in some kind of holy storage unit only accessible by pregnant women, starting with Asian pears. I was like a person in a movie who’d smoked too much weed and had the munchies — there was moaning! Writhing! And lots of “OH MY GOD TASTE THIS” as I shoved bits in front of an entirely unimpressed (and not high or pregnant) Adam.
And finally, three unrelated things that have confused me and/or stuck in my craw all weekend:
1) Why do outdoorsy people assume that we’re ALL outdoorsy? I saw a place this weekend where the dude dropped the names of approximately 1100 hiking trails in the area and tried to sell us on the fact that we could cross-country ski out the back of the house. Folks, do I SEEM like the type of person who longs to cross-country ski out the back of my house? I mean, it was all lovely, but he went ON and ON and Adam and I were a little glazed over by the end, because Jesus, we get it, YOU ARE OUTDOORSY. WE ARE NOT, however, and would prefer to focus on more important things like how many cable hook-ups there are and in what rooms, and hey, is there central AC, by chance? KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE.
2) Of all the terms for a woman’s breasts, I believe I am most mystified by the term “funbags.” No matter how you slice it, it’s not flattering. Bags don’t sound like anything particularly firm, not even the fun variety, like a bean bag chair.
3) Beverly Hills Chihuahua was the number one movie over the weekend. I don’t even know what to say other than that.
Happy Monday!
*Oh, Duran Duran. A bit of delightful ’80s nostalgia here.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
20 Comments Add your own
1. slynnro | October 5th, 2008 at 6:44 pm
With regards to number 2, I find anything involving “milk” to be the most offensive.
2. Suebob | October 5th, 2008 at 7:34 pm
That coyote sound is so eeeeeerie, especially when they yelp with joy over something they have killed. It made my hair stand right up.
Looking for a place to live always makes me lose faith in humanity a bit. Like the $1100 a month garage conversion apartment (no insulation, “office” was a closet with extension cord in it, “kitchen” sink literally at knee level).
And you’re right. By the time they are “bags” they are no longer fun. I should know – I’m rapidly heading there.
3. Carolyn J. | October 5th, 2008 at 7:44 pm
My least favourite term is “jugs”, which also has milk connotations.
I grew up at the edge of a small town. I could and did cross-country ski out my back door. I longed to move closer to the happenings in the city and when we did, I longed for country peace and quiet. I still do. A small town is an excellent place to raise a child, in spite of the fact that everyone knows your business.
4. Camels & Chocolate | October 5th, 2008 at 8:29 pm
Fun bags??? Really???
And I lived in the desert in AZ for several summers and also witnessed many a coyote pack (or as they call them there, KIE-OAT). They’re quite scary and sound like hordes of screaming children. Keep Sunny safe!
5. Swistle | October 6th, 2008 at 3:43 am
There were a few times when I had a bowl of cereal in the middle of the night. I was just so HUNGRY.
A THEATER? What’s strange is, I kind of want it. Even though I can’t see using it.
6. susan | October 6th, 2008 at 4:22 am
We had coyotes living across the street in the cranberry bog, but this year they went strangely silent. I heard the other day – at my daughter’s birthday party not 50 yards away from said coyote den – that the coyotes on Cape Cod had all died off from rabies. Which makes me feel SO MUCH BETTER. Maybe we should replace them with rabid dingos.
7. Danell | October 6th, 2008 at 5:59 am
Yes, the term funbags is seriously grotesque…yet you talking about it makes me snort and snicker like an eight-year-old boy.
8. Jess | October 6th, 2008 at 6:00 am
I ran into a coyote in the street outside my uncle’s house in Arizona once, and immediately crossed Arizona off my mental list of states I would ever consider living in. But I wouldn’t have thought there would be coyotes in VERMONT. ARGH.
9. Danell | October 6th, 2008 at 6:01 am
And also, most of the guys I’ve heard use the term “funbags” also liked to use “mudflaps” for…um, another part of girlie anatomy. Ew.
10. claire | October 6th, 2008 at 6:09 am
Duran Duran coming through for you today! Great match up there – what with the hungry… and the wolf-type animals and.. well, i guess you know.
It’s funny that you’re getting cross-country skiing information being a few months pregnant now, like that’s the first thing you’re going to do when you move into a new house. “I know the nursery isn’t done yet, or anything, but i just gotta go hit the trails. I’ll be back…”
11. Kristin H | October 6th, 2008 at 6:39 am
“Fun bags” is not right. I’ve never even hear d the term. Did someone actually use it around you?
Two words for coyotes: cree-py. On the bright side, if you do stay in tiny-town VT, your baby can fit right in: http://tinyurl.com/5ykbqq
12. ali | October 6th, 2008 at 8:24 am
i once heard them called ‘happy sacs’ which is just all kinds of wrong.
13. Shelly | October 6th, 2008 at 8:46 am
Oh…Duran Duran…….I LOVE Duran Duran…….seriously love them.
Funbags? Never heard that one before….but am grossed out nonetheless. We got a puppy this weekend….and the lady we got him from insisted on petting him whilst in MY arms, therefore, manhandling MY breasts while I cradled the dog…….creepy.
14. Leah | October 6th, 2008 at 10:26 am
I don’t get the middle-of-the-night hunger regularly, but when I do it’s brutal. It’s always at 5:30 a.m. on the dot, and even though I try to ignore it every time, it doesn’t go away and I can’t go to sleep until I get up and eat something. My go-to is trail mix, which is loud and crunchy and in a really loud and crunchy bag. I also always end up spilling some on the floor, which wakes the cats up and starts a cycle of feline madness. I would say that I can’t wait for pregnancy to be over so I can get some damn sleep, but HA, and also, I hear breastfeeding hunger is even worse.
15. Kristabella | October 6th, 2008 at 5:16 pm
I don’t like funbags either, mostly because what part of them are fun for me?
Also, when you took the GIANT STICK to fend off the coyotes, I immediately pictured the scene from Parent Trap where the girls told the evil soon-to-be stepmonster that clacking sticks together would ward off bears. Or coyotes.
16. TwoBusy | October 6th, 2008 at 7:02 pm
(in Robert Shaw voice)
Coyote’s outside… pug’s outside… your pug…
“Farewell and ado, to you fair Vermont puggies… farewell and ado, you pugs of Vermont…”
17. Zoo | October 8th, 2008 at 8:45 am
omg, Country Baby. I think I just fell in love with you a little bit.
18. giant bean bag chair | Bo&hellip | October 27th, 2008 at 4:54 am
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19. giant bean bag chair | Bo&hellip | October 27th, 2008 at 4:54 am
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