It Almost Ate Me

For reals.

I walked out to the back edge of the yard to water our dogwood tree. On my way back, while minding my own business, I [luckily] happened to look down...and see a big snake staring at me. It almost scared me to death. I ran around it onto the porch...where there conveniently happened to be a hoe. (No, Mariah Carey was not on my porch. A garden hoe, silly!) I looked at the hoe, and pretty much knew I wasn't going to be able to rally the courage to kill this snake. But then I thought about how close it was to the house and how I rarely pay attention to where I am walking. I pictured myself just casually walking through the yard and stepping right on it - like I almost had moments earlier. I also thought about Buster and how much time he spends by himself on the porch. I couldn't let a snake eat Buster Cat Nixon!

I had to do something. Christopher was, OF COURSE, playing softball, so I took a deep breath, picked up the hoe and went back outside. I've seen other people kill snakes with garden tools. How hard could it be? One solid whack, two pieces, right? Soooo wrong.

I crept up behind it, raised the hoe and then brought it down. I brought it down as hard as I could, and tried to aim perfectly. I felt like one of those guys trying to win a teddy bear at the state fair with one of those mallet things. (I wonder if those guys also feel like they might throw up at any minute?)

Well - I hit the snake, but instead of separating it into two pieces, like I had hoped, I mostly just angered the snake. Crap. We stared at each other for several minutes before he started to slowly slither away again.

(I should also mention here, that as soon as I struck the snake, I felt immense guilt. You know how I feel about animals. If that snake was in a cage in someone's house, I would have picked it up and played with it. To see it curl up in pain, really made me feel bad. Guilty.) That being said, I decided I would have to hit it again. Clearly, I had just not hit it hard enough the first time. You might guess that the second swing didn't result in two pieces of snake either. This time, he was not going to turn his back on me. We stared each other down for a good 20-30 minutes before he started to move again.

At this point, I was shaking so badly, I didn't know if I could even lift the hoe. I did. I missed. I pulled it up immediately and swung again. Wow. Open mouth, cobra position, hissing, the whole nine yards. I think he was really loosing patience with me. Again we just stared at each other. I don't think I could have possibly gathered enough courage to do it again. I started trying, but mostly I just kept dancing around him. I even shrieked a few times. I'm not sure if it was the dancing or the shrieking...or the awkward movements with the hoe, but something caught our neighbor's attention and I heard "Ginger? Are you trying to kill something?" Our neighbor came out to her backyard and I explained the situation. She said her husband was on his way home and she would send him right over when he got home.

I have to admit that I didn't try nearly as hard to gather the courage to hit the snake again after she said that. The snake and I just stared at each other. For a long time. I started to wonder if my neighbor worked in South Carolina, but it didn't matter to me. I was willing to wait. I'm not sure how long it was, but eventually I heard him say something behind me. I turned around and he was carrying a rather large shovel through the yard.

I stared in shock as he pounded this snake with the shovel. Multiple times. From directly above. And it would. not. die. Can you imagine how long I would have been out there with that hoe??? There was no way I would have ever been able to kill it! I would have died from fear first. Eventually he picked it up and carried it out to the woods and hit it some more. He assured me it was dead, but that it might wriggle around some more. Psh - like I was going to go check or something. This had turned out to be almost a two-hour ordeal.

Christopher called not long after I came back in - all shakey and sweaty.

"Hi! What are you doing?"

"I almost died!"

"WHAT?!"

"A snake almost ate me."

After he came home, I got the flashlight, my camera, and a tape measure. I made him get the hoe. We went out to the woods. He pulled the snake out.

(somehow it got skinny. do snakes deflate when they die?)

(incase you can't see, that's about 45 inches. aka 3 feet, 9 inches...and it wasn't even pulled tight.)

(go ahead - click the picture - make it bigger.)

I am telling you right now. Don't you DARE leave comments about "It's just a black snake. Black snakes are good. They kill rodents. You are horrible." That thing had teeth. I like rodents. I will feed a rodent brie en croute. I am not terrible. Didn't you hear? He would have eaten Buster Cat. If you would like to comment on my bravery, prowess and heroism, you are welcome and encouraged to do so.

Buster and the Cantaloupe

If you have scrolled down to the bottom of Nixon Notes, you have seen Buster and the cantaloupe. That picture doesn't really do the situation justice. Buster LOVES cantaloupe. I cut some cantaloupe this weekend and he went nuts. I guess he smelled it - he started jumping up my leg and biting my bum.

(before)

(after)

The Herd can speak fluent French...in Russian

It was brought to my attention that rather than blogging about high shipping charges and hot peppers, perhaps I should be blogging about The Purple Herd’s Mighty Comeback. So noted, BT.

Christopher plays softball for the Purple Herd. I don’t go to many of his games anymore. I feel a little bad about it because I used to go to all of them in Raleigh. But let me tell you how my first game in Winston went down:

Ginger: Daaaamn, Christopher, this is straight-up in the ghetto. Should I be packing?

Christopher: Ginger. Stop. You’re being ridiculous – it’s fine.

Ginger: No, seriously – this is the ghetto…

Christopher: It’s not bad! This is the nice park!

Ginger: mmm-hmmm

There I am…the only one there…sitting on the bleachers all by myself...in the dark. Until! I hear a rustling coming from the woods behind me. I turn. There is a homeless man in a trench coat emerging from the woods. Lovely.

Dude watched the game with me. The whole game. It was uncomfortable. He talked the whole time…not to me, but he talked.

Ginger: Hey – did you see that homeless man watch the whole game with me? That was awesome. He talked the whole time.

Christopher: Yeeeeeeeah.

Ginger: He came out of the woods, you know.

Christopher: Yeeeeeeeah.

And after further investigation, Christopher was right – that WAS the nice park. The others = worse.

Anyway, enough of my excuses. The Purple Herd basically rocks. They dominate. However…the previous two weeks’ games didn’t go so well. They lost an unheard – eeer – unherd of two games in a row. They needed a little support. Herd Management outlawed the normal Herd jerseys, as well as the color purple (the actual color, not the movie). Players were instructed to wear ridiculous, non-purple shirts and to rally before the game at Foothills.

I received an invite to Foothills and figured I could brave the field, and the people from the woods, to watch a game. I even bought Christopher an “I *heart* Mexican futbol” t-shirt to wear for the game.

(what is that little ball of fluff by Christopher’s knee?)

(aaaah – that’s it – it’s Bust-man)

Other notable shirts were BT’s shirt which words cannot do justice, one that read “I *heart* hot moms,” a Lionel Richie Fan Club T, and baseball shirt that read “masterbatter” with two baseball bats under it.

(I found this pic on BT’s facebook page…this is the shirt.)

The shirts worked! The Herd won! You can read all the details here (highly recommended - Herd Management has a way with words). There were some pretty good plays in the game, and Christopher made this crazy dirty…I mean good, slide into home. Unfortunately, he was out, but there were two? three? runs ahead of him that made it in! The slide was impressive. I’m glad I caught it in-between all my texts to Megan telling her about the bathroom. The bathroom at this park is probably a whole other blog post, but basically, it’s the type of place horror movies are made of. Think Candyman. The bathroom also started with:

Ginger: Uhmmm…I’m not going in there…

Christopher: Ginger. Stop. It’s not that bad.

It was that bad. Totally that bad. There was a bug that watched me the entire time. But it was worth it see the Herd make their comeback.