I Will Hug Him and Squeeze Him...

My new favorite pastime is checking my security cams upon waking to see what kind/slash/how many wild animals visited my deck under the cover of darkness.  It’s my own personal version of, “While You Were Sleeping”.
Surprisingly, Tycoon the Raccoon has been visiting EVERY NIGHT since he trashed the place a couple of weeks ago.  Hasn't missed a one. 
Last night, however, something different happened.  He brought a friend.  Don’t get excited.  It was a fellow raccoon, not a bear or a billy goat or anything crazy
I’ve been getting a lot of sound advice, which includes enrolling Tycoon in the “raccoon relocation program” or doing something even more severe to discourage his nocturnal meandering so close to my fuzzy slippers (to which he bears a striking resemblance, ironically). 
Unfortunately — or fortunately, depending on how well you happen to fit in a trap — I have a gene that makes me fall in love will all things furry or feathered.  (Thought bubble:  No, wait, because I would l…

Undeep Thoughts -- Eavesdropping

I'm on a diet. And since I don't shop, I'm sitting at one of my favorite Italian restaurants where the head waiter greets me with a double-cheek kiss, and I return the sentiment by nodding politely when I can't understand a single word he says. No matter though. I'm here waiting for someone else to throw arugula in a bowl and make it taste better than when I throw it in a bowl. Don't ask me to explain it. It just is. So while I wait, I'm eavesdropping on these two dude's conversation about Bill Gates and the news that he's on track to become the "world's first trillionaire" and is complaining because can't gift away enough of his money. PS, they're tipsy, and asking Siri stupid questions ("hey Siri, what channel is the Yankee game on?" like that kinda stupid) while trying to flirt with the young bartender. She's nice enough - or perhaps smart enough- to let them believe (briefly) that they are as hilarious as the…

Garden Like a Boss

I don't know what got into me, but two days ago, I came home from the office, pulled down my driveway, and ripped three, very dead trees out of the ground with my bare hands. Then, as if possessed by what would happen if Bear Grylls and Martha Stewart mated, I ripped open a tube containing 1,000 sunflowers seeds and poured them into my dead tree holes, stomped some fresh dirt over them, imagined a skunk being able to easily sniff them out with the skill of a truffle pig, and buried them a little deeper - with my feet. Then, as if covering up a crime, I lugged the dead tree carcasses to a wooded area on my property (while wearing pretty suede boots with satin laces on them, totally poor choice of tree pulling footwear), and threw them down the small ravine with the 'tude of a Mafia boss who just realized Pauly Cacciatore shorted him ten bucks. "You trees wanna die on me? You think it's funny? Funny how? I make you laugh like a clown? Do I amuse you?" I taught …