Foxy the Watcher

This is Foxy II

When I was young I had lots of stuffed animals like many young girls probably did. I loved each one of them as if they were real, live pets. My brothers took great delight in abusing them by punching and throwing them which sent me into fits of rage.

Foxy took plenty of beatings from the boys as well as from my cats. I had a crazy cat who thought Foxy was his love mate. He'd actually try to "woo" her if you know what I mean. Having been raised on a farm, I knew exactly what the old boy was up to and I didn't like the fact that he was raping my precious Foxy one little bit. Another cat just gave him baths and kneaded his tired (nonexistent) muscles with her paws.

All of those years of my petting and the boys' pounding and the rapings and kneading from the cats took a toll on poor old Foxy and by the time I was a teenager, all I had left of Foxy was his tail. By age 17 I finally had to give him up and let him rest in peace (pieces).

Fast forward 33 years to my 50th birthday. The one brother who pounded on Foxy the most was super excited to give me a birthday gift. As I reached my hand into the gift bag I felt the  most wonderful thing. Could it be true? Did I feel the familiar rough fur from so many years ago? YES!! It was another Foxy! Foxy #2!! Apparently, my sweet brother searched for years to find a mink from a broken mink stole just like the one I had as a child. He found lots of them but they were attached to whole wraps and cost hundreds of dollars and all he wanted was one and it had to be cheap. He finally hit pay dirt when he visited an antique store, found 5 minks sewn together and after telling the shop owner the story of his long, long quest, the guy sold it to him for super cheap because he liked the story so much. Mission accomplished.

At my birthday party, family members who didn't know about my love for Foxy looked on in horror as I pulled out those musty dusty minks and deeply inhaled the scent of a long lost friend. They grossed out at the fact that the minks still had feet and toenails and dusty, rough fur but I loved them. I played with one of Foxy's feet so much on the way home, one of them fell off and I carried it around in my purse for months. I LOVE all 5 of my Foxys! Who would have thought that a musty old partial mink stole could be such an epic awesome gift? I love that my brother thought enough of me to search for 35 years for something so odd and let me tell you, Foxy 2 has a special place at the foot of my bed and NO cats are allowed around it. This one will last a long time because I don't have pesky brothers beating up on it. Who knows, Foxy might last long enough for one of my future grand kids to adopt it and love it just as much as I do.

Redneck Laundry

I mentioned earlier that my p.o.s. house is slowly falling down around me and guess what????? It still is! Oh, the joy! I decided to be proactive about the broken things at home and my first stab at playing repair wonder woman was my leaking wall behind my washing machine. Yep, it's leaking all right. Clear under the wall and into the next room.

Luckily, Manchild is a redneck repairman and he came up with a truly brilliant idea that would allow me to do my laundry without flooding multiple rooms until things can get fixed the right way. He opened the window in the laundry room, ran the drain house through the opening right out into the yard and then let 'er rip.

I'm not sure how I'm going to explain the geyser coming from my washroom window to my neighbors without coming across as pure white trash. I'm pretty embarrassed to tell them what's up even though they'll see a small sudsy lake if they happen to walk through the yard that runs between our houses. Maybe I could tell them that I'm trying to get the ground to swell while I wait for the foundation company to come out and fix my house. Maybe I could tell them that I'm trying to conserve water so I'm using the gray water to water my lawn. It doesn't matter that it's rained for the last 3 days...I'm just making sure that one spot is completely wet. Maybe I'll just hide whenever I see them outside so I won't have to explain myself.

This problem probably won't be fixed for the next month & 1/2 because I'm currently a deer widow. My hubby has been gone for the last week and he's going to be gone for another week so that he can hunt full time. And I know that he's going to be spending every spare waking moment hunting after his vacation is over, so asking him for help is a waste of breath. Oh well, I guess I'll have a nice, clean green spot where my washer spews the rinse water. Maybe the spot will get wet enough and water will start standing then migrating ducks can stop in for a rest. I could have wildlife right outside my kitchen window! Then someone will call the city and I'll get arrested for hoarding ducks. And for making a pond between two houses without a permit. And for doing redneck laundry in the city.