Things that cannot be unseen.

Oh boy. Walking Petunia to school today, we came upon a gruesome little crime scene on the sidewalk a block over. A chubby little field mouse was decapitated and his head was lying next to his body. No blood, no guts, but a couple of fat flies buzzing around. Poor Petunia almost freaked out. I am very proud that both of us held it together well.

I held her arm, outstretched and walked her quickly around the little corpse and told her to close her eyes. After we were passed it, I explained to her that most likely, it was one of the local feral cats that had done that. (The lady in the house next door to the dead mouse feeds the stray cats.)

Petunia told me that she was worried that she would think about it all day long. I told her that when she saw the picture in her head, replace it with a picture of the Goddess kissing the little mousie and making it all better. Goddess loves all animals, including the kitties who mutilate mousies. *sigh*

I've discovered that I handle gross stuff so much better after becoming a parent. I'm sure age has something to do with it as well, but hanging onto one's sanity and not losing it is essential in raising children. OK, I admit, I have lost it a few times and will most likely do so in the future, but at least when I do the kids understand and sympathize/emphasize (losing a grandparent, seeing poor Spot run over in the street, etc.).

Last Friday, the boys told me that they encountered a boxer mix dog on Cherry Street while walking to LHS to catch the shuttle. The dog walked up, all friendly like to Bug, who ignored it, and then walked up to Bear, GROWLED at him and then BIT his messenger bag! The boys yelled at it and it ran away. Geeze louise! Thank goodness for small miracles. Both Sharky and I went over the rules about encountering stray dogs and what to do if one of them gets bit. (Get to the nearest house with lights and ask them to call 911, don't try to walk to the school unless it's right there.) We told them that their backpack and messenger bags are good weapons if a dog tries to bite and that being stern and loud is a very good deterrent. (I've learned from experience that most stray dogs around here are/were pets and do respond to a very forceful "GO HOME", and "BAD DOG" when necessary.)

Speaking of dogs, I was very proud of Petunia on the first day of school. One of her friend's dad walked their dog up to the school to pick him up and the boy introduced her to the dog. She asked his dad if it was OK to pet the dog first before touching. I praised her (later on of course lol) and thanked her for remembering that simple rule. If I had done that (asked permission from a grown up and not a child), decades ago, I would not have been bit by a neighbor's "friendly family" dog and the dog might not have had to have been put down because of it. *sigh*

Z and I went downtown yesterday morning and while the person who we were supposed to meet with was not there, everything went smoothly and she called me last night to tell me that she had received confirmation on our reservation for PPD. *phew* One less thing to worry about!

Borrowed Mr. DL's car last evening and Bear and I went to Publix. Sharky wasn't home yet, but we had to go and pick up a few essential supplies. Bug and Petunia stayed home but it wasn't even 10 minutes before Sharky arrived home. Of course, Bear and I spent way more than we intended to *rolls eyes* but there were a lot of things on sale (which ends today) that we did need, like cereal, etc. My abfave cereals are Post Selects Cranberry Almond Crunch and Maple Pecan Crunch (tastes almost like pecan pralines) - not only are the flavors fabulous, the flakes don't get soggy very fast in milk (soggy flakes are nasty). They were B1G1F, so I picked up two of each. I think the best way to eat them would be to mix one of each kind together and add a few more dried cranberries. Mmm...

Lunch today will be leftover fried chicken. Mmm, mmm, good. Can't argue with that. LOL

The annual act of taking the first apple, roundish, blushed with crimson, the flesh beneath its skin firm and sturdy and ready to explode upon the tongue, announced by a fragrance so clear and subtle that the memory centers deep within the brain let loose an avalanche of nearly forgotten summer tastes, memories that are themselves inseparable from the expectations of eager youth--this plain act of snapping the fruit from the branch or lifting it from a wooden crate and drawing it up toward the ready mouth was an affirmation of the senses. To eat into the apple, to press the edge of the teeth past the taut, unwilling skin into ready white meat, to feel the spray of tart and honeyed juices rain down against the tongue and wash over the palate, was to know again how exquisite are the treasures of the ordinary earth. Apple season--not the apples of summer best left for sauce pots and jelly jars, but the apples that fall in September and October, when the sun is sliding south--is the time for harvest mischief. It is the time of last temptation before the cold and darkness, and the growers are the agents of temptation. You understood about apples and temptation when the preachers arrived Sunday afternoons.

Frank Browning, in Ronni Lundy's "Cornbread Nation 3"