Jayne Doodles

Go Hawks Go!!!

Story Du Jour - #3

Ed. Note: In order to "get" part of this story, it helps to know that my Aunt Donut is diabetic.

I have been trying for quite a few weeks to find a place to volunteer at working with cats or dogs.  I finally hooked up with FOCAS (friends of county animal shelters), agreeing to work at one of the Luv-A-Pet cat centers located inside a PetSmart.  My first day was yesterday.  I arrived at 10:00 a.m. to begin training with Karen.  She told me that the morning shift cleans all the cat cages, and it usually takes the full morning shift (4 hours).  Okay by me, hate sitting around anyway.  The routine is, let all the cats out to romp (we're in a tiny room holding 10 cages and a long narrow area to walk in, also some storage area and a sink), change water, dump litter box in the trash, remove towels, newspapers, bed and toys, spray metal cage down with disinfectant and put in new newspapers, new towels if they're dirty, bed, toys and clean litter box.  My trainer was quite a tiny woman, so I ended up cleaning 5 cages and she cleaned 3. 

When I'd started I asked if they provided rubber gloves (the kind used in hospitals) and she said no.  Mental note to self: I don't mind cleaning, but I'd just as soon have on the rubber gloves.  After cleaning 5 cages it was getting close to 12:00 and with all the exertion my blood sugar was taking a dive.  I asked if PetSmart sold any candy (Alpo treats are lousy for blood sugar, I'm sure) and she told me there was a vending machine.  I went over to the sink to wash my hands and looked around for the roll of paper towels we'd been using while cleaning the cages.   When I asked for the paper towels, Karen said, "Just use the hand towel hanging up there."  Not wanting to argue on my first day (and also because low blood sugar makes me very very cranky and I'm not sure how I'd sound), I dried my hands off and went in search of the vending machine. 

After gobbling down a small package of M & Ms and cooling my jets while my blood sugar climbed back into the normal range, I went back to find out what was next on the schedule.  Karen said it was time to wash and dry off the old litter boxes.  Yuck.  Okay, since she offered to wash and I could dry.  She filled the sink with water and soap and dumped in the litter boxes.  Pretty soon the first litter box came out of the sink and I asked what they used to dry them with.  "Oh" she said, pointing to the hand towel I'd just dried my hands with 10 minutes before.  "We just use this hand towel." 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I spent the rest of the day fighting the urge to fix myself a Lysol cocktail followed by a bleach chaser.

Story Du Jour - #2

More stories from Aunt Donut, that intrepid adventurer:

One day I zoomed up to Lake Miramar for my daily exercise.  I clamped my Walkman on my waist, grabbed a bottle of water and headed off. When I got approximately to the 1 mile mark I saw a slow-moving rock ahead of me.  As I finally came along side I saw it was a fair sized box turtle, heading across the road.  Instantly I realized that he was heading away from the water, up the embankment, which was too steep for him to climb without falling over.  Since I didn't want him falling over and landing in the way of walkers, rollerbladers, joggers and bicyclists, never mind the cars, I decided to move him back to the other side of the road on the water side.  I tucked my water bottle under my arm and leaned over to pick him up.  As I was lifting him up, my Walkman fell off my waist and clattered to the pavement. 

Then I realized that the top had come off my water bottle and it was emptying all over my Walkman.  Then I realized that I had never taken the top off my water bottle.  What the?  Oh for Pete's sake.  The turtle was taking a giant whiz all over my Walkman.  Evidently, the sound of the Walkman crashing to the ground right in his ear as he was being lifted off the ground scared him half to death and he evacuated his bladder.  Yuck.  I quickly moved him off the road and went back to contemplate my Walkman.  It wouldn't be sporting of me to leave it lying in the middle of the road, but it was covered with turtle urine, which in some countries may be considered a soup base or an aphrodisiac, but was an episode of Fear Factor for me.  Oh well, nothing to do but open up my water bottle and empty it over the Walkman, after which I gingerly carried it over to the trash

Mr. Turtle is probably still telling tales about his near-death encounter on his way across the road.

Story Du Jour

*Names have been changed to preserve the relative anonymity of the blog…and protect the innocent (or at least, the ones who haven’t been proven guilty yet…)  :-)

From Aunt Donut:

Back in the late ‘80s, when my ex and I were still married, we used to go up to Seattle once a year to visit my sister (Jayne Doodles’ mom), Mrs. Buck*. At the time, my sister’s husband, Buck*, was the Director of Something-or-other at Seattle Pacific University. I absolutely love Seattle, and it is one of my favorite cities to visit.

One year, Mrs. Buck asked us if we could come up for two weeks. The University had a retreat at Camp Casey on Whidbey Island, and they were able to grab one of the beautiful Victorian houses on the island for a week in July. We loaded up the car with suitcases, pillows, sleeping bags, coolers, cameras, and even managed to find room for my daughter, Desiree, although I think she did have to sit higher than normal for the drive.

Camp Casey is a rustically beautiful vacation spot and we spent the week exploring our surroundings, going into Oak Harbor for groceries and reveling in the pristine scenery we are so lacking of in Southern California. The pictures show views of the retreat facilities, first an overall view, then a view of some of the houses and the made-over barracks, and lastly, a view of some of the beach area. 

On the last day my sister told us that she had a special treat for us – we were going to the U-Pick farms located on the island, and pick raspberries and strawberries. Well, we’re city born and raised, so we thought that’d be an absolutely wonderful way to spend our last day – searching for juicy ripe berries under the summer sun. We just happened to be smack in the middle of when all the berries were ripe, so it didn’t take us long to fill up several boxes of berries. It was with heavy hearts that we left Whidbey Island that night and went back to Seattle on the first part of our return trip. Back to work and the daily grind!  That night I washed all the berries and repacked them in coolers. 

As we headed south the next morning reality imposed itself and I had a chilling thought.  California is one of the leading agricultural states and they have a strict policy about bringing in outside agricultural products.  Oh no.  The berries!!!  It broke my heart to think I’d have to give up my precious berries to the agriculture wardens at the border. I knew it’d be quite a task, but I told my ex and Desiree that we were going to finish those berries before we hit California.  It was going to be berries for breakfast, berries for lunch and berries for dinner.  We bought a carton of half and half and some of the paper camping bowls and began the quest to be berry-free in six meals or less.

There is a theory in Economics called the Law of Diminishing Returns.  If you remember it, basically it states that the first item of anything brings the most satisfaction, and each additional item brings less and less satisfaction if experienced or consumed all at once.  So it was with the berries.  What began with enthusiasm grew palpably less so as I filled the bowls with what must have seemed at the time like a never-ending supply.  On we drove, with the cooler getting emptier and the faces getting longer, but they both knew better than to suggest we just throw the damn things out.

Finally – southern Oregon and the promise of the relief of the agricultural inspection.  But, by golly, we did it!  The berries were gone.  I was smug with satisfaction as we waited in line to get cleared by the inspectors.  We got up to the window and the guy saw all the camping gear, coolers, etc.  He did a visual inspection of the inside of the car, and then asked my ex if we were bringing in any oranges or apples.  When my ex said no, he waved us through.  My ex asked him “What about berries?”  The agent said, “Naw, we don’t care about those".

It was a long, quiet ride home.

Introducing...

Good afternoon, lovely people!  I have dawdled long enough in the land of PostethNot, and again I come to delight your senses with my nonsensical stories and babble.

Actually, I lied. 

I'm not back, per se.  I'm going to be posting some funny stories sent to me from a good friend, who thought my readers would enjoy them.  I agree.  I would like to introduce you all to the intrepid author: my dear Auntie Donut!  (She doesn't look remotely like a donut, just as a disclaimer; more like a baguette - tall and skinny, in a yummy sort of way.)

I hope you laugh about these as much as I did.  :-)