HAMOUSE IN THE HOUSE

Mouse-o-Ramp

Last week, I participated in an event for Washington County where I was a panel member for a middle school kinda job fair...which means I got to talk about being an author. I met lots of seriously interesting kids, learned most middle school boys intend to play for the NBA, while many girls but certainly not all, still leaned toward service fields like nursing and social work. I sat next to a guy who was a rhythmic/music therapist, and he was way more interesting than I was. I drove home in a blinding, unseasonably heavy rainfall and when I walked into the basement, I heard what sounded like water hitting the bucket I keep on the shelf. It wasn't water....it was a mouse trying to escape, but I didn't know that so when I reached up to grab the bucket, the mouse jumped up. I screamed (startled not scared of mice) and dropped the bucket. The bugger ran behind the furnace. "Moron!" I yelled. "Had you stayed in the damn bucket I woulda taken you outside and let you go! Now, I must employ the Death by Peanut Butter Mouse-o-Ramp!" 

Needless to say, the offending mouse was in the bucket the next morning. Things were quiet for a couple of days, but knowing how mice work in Minnesota, the bucket remained. Then Saturday, I found mouse evidence on the baker's rack in the kitchen, but no mouse upstairs. Sunday morning, there was a mouse in the bucket. This morning, there were 3 in the bucket: mom, dad, and a little guy. It was time to call Dr. Mouselin, my mechuten who knows about these things. We checked the foundation, the basement, and the garage for possible entry points. We found one...and stuffed it with steel wool. We'll see what the next couple of days bring. 

Mice are a fact of life in suburban and rural Minnesota. Yes, they are cute, no I don't like drowning them, and would prefer to release them back into the wild when possible. HOWEVER, mice are rodents and I would prefer not to share living quarters with guys who spread a variety of diseases. But that does not prevent me from feeling bad about killing them. 

They are terrorists in cute, little, furry packets; quiet, sneaky, operating in the dark, with no remorse about destroying/contaminating your food supply. So tonight, as I was checking Mouse-o-Ramp before heading off to write tonight's episode, I caught myself saying, "There you go, you little terrorists. Mess with me, will you? You will not win!'  And then I thought about the movie MOUSEHUNT with Nathan Lane. And then I thought about me calling them terrorists. 

I know there are all sorts of metaphors and similes used in the propaganda war surrounding Israel and Hamas, and I do not make light of what's happening there. Not in the least. But the similarities made me think long and hard about my own world view. 

Obviously, there is no equivalency here. There just isn't. Or maybe it's my imagination running rampant as I plot the death and destruction of the mouse in the house. Truth is I really don't want to kill mice. Even the thought kinda creeps me out. But the bottom line is that they cannot live in this house. There is no way for me to communicate with them, to convince them to go back outside to be free. They're just lookin' for a warm nest and free food. BUT...and this is an important point....this is my house, and if I take away the bucket prematurely, they will invite all their friends in and this will escalate to something really, really ugly. 

And that's the reason there can be no cease-fire with Gaza. Even a humanitarian pause is risky, but less risky than a ceasefire. Gaza has always been the one to break the ceasefire agreements, there is no reason to believe a new one would do anything more than allow them to rearm and regroup...much the same way removing the Mouse-o-Ramp will allow mice to return to their friends to invite them in. 

Am I a terrible person for not wanting mice in the house? No. Nor am I a terrible person for not wanting to give Hamas any room to rearm. An idiotic, simplistic comparison to be sure, but for reasons I cannot adequately explain, it made me think about my positions, and arrive at the conclusion that a ceasefire is non-negotiable at this time. 

UPDATE: A little terrorist just ran past me and dashed under the fridge! Not to worry, a second Mouse-o-Ramp has been deployed. This has got to stop! But now, I may have a clue as to where they're coming from.....

The other thing that needs discussion is the wide ranging support for Hamas on college campuses and across the 18-28 age group. I think they're called GEN Z, but who knows and who cares? These are the members of the safe-space generation, the ones who think critical thinking is unnecessary for people who support extreme positions, because, quite frankly, thinking isn't one of their strong suits. Whatever. I just want to share this video asking people to sign petitions in support of Hamas.

Please watch this video. 

A lot of people will complain this is cherry-picking, or manipulating interviews, but they are missing the point. When you see people cheering for Hamas on campuses and in urban demonstrations, when you see LGBTQ folks protesting to free Palestine, they are completely unaware of what Hamas is, what Hamas does, and how Hamas kills its own citizens. When confronted with what they are supporting, not everyone chooses to believe facts on the ground, or admit, at the very least, that they are uninformed. The clip just shows it up close and personal. 

Do you think Germans went around saying "Gas the Jews" back in 1932? Probably not. 

It is the refusal of an entire generation of Americans to do their own research or homework to understand the positions they are taking. That puts us Jews in the crosshairs on both the extreme Left and the extreme Right wing of each party. And now that it's out in the open, it's apparently okay to talk about it. Take this guy Klingenberg running for the school board in Roseville, MN. Did you know that the Nazis were really trying to save Jews? I didn't either.  But this guys and his followers make it a point to spread this information as though it was true. 

On an interesting note, I do want to comment about Dean Phillips' run against President Biden: do not dismiss this guy out of hand. He is the only one who is playing the long hand. I hope by next week Feckless is sitting is a jail cell, but we can't count on that. Nor can we be so sure that Joe Biden's health will not be impacted by the incredible stress he is under. Oh, yeah, there may be other Dems playing the what if game, but Phillips is the only one currently putting it out there. I think he's cagier than the rest of us....and I'm not convinced he actually wants to be POTUS. Still....

The GOP is bound and determined to run a criminal with signs of dementia for president. What does that say about this country?

Frankly, I'm afraid to ask.

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

I'm writing this on Monday

Election Day is tomorrow.

Whatever races you have going, GO VOTE.

Especially in school board elections. 

They are way more important than you might think.

A Mouse, A Louse, and An Inappropriate Appropriation

A while back, while walking through a park in Firenze, I noticed the ground was littered with chestnuts. This took me back to my childhood, when the chestnut tree in front of our synagogue dropped its spiky load every year right around Rosh Ha'Shanah. We were always told those chestnuts were horse chestnuts and should not be eaten. Still, I loved the spiky wrappers and when I saw dozens of them on the ground, I could not help but pick up a few to find out if they were sweet chestnuts or horse chestnuts. I picked up three, stripped off the covers, and dropped them into my pocket. 

And promptly forgot about them.

Until I was home and found them in a pocket  as I prepared to do laundry. Knowing  this is highly illegal, I called the local USDA office to ask what to do. When the guy stopped chuckling, he asked a few questions, then assured me that bringing  just the chestnuts, sans shells and leaves, was not a big deal, but to be on the safe side, I should wash them in a little bleach, dry them thoroughly, and I would have a nice souvenir. So I did. 

For the last few years, they shared a lovely little pottery bowl with dried lavender that I had grown on my little mirpeset. 

The other day, I saw one on the floor, almost hidden under the baker's rack. "Hmmmm," I wonder if Young Sir got a hold of the chestnuts when he had the step stool out?" I picked it up and put it back in the bowl. 

This morning, a chestnut was on the floor again, but this one had been gnawed. I looked in the bowl...there were no chestnuts at all! Only one conclusion could be drawn: an uninvited guest has taken up residency in my house. 

Honestly, it's winter. I get it. If I knew it was just one, I would leave him alone. But just one never stays just one. 

MouseMode automatically switched on. Nothing in the cabinets. Nothing under the table. I checked the living room...no sign of activity in there. But he had gotten the chestnuts out of the bowl on the third shelf up from the floor on the baker's rack. Yup. There was "activity" in the Longaberger bread basket (which was empty save for the warming brick,) on the wooden shelf covers I used on the rack, and on top of the placemat basket. And that was it. But nowhere else. 

I checked the basement. Not a sign anywhere that a mouse was hanging around. 

Now, just about 2 years ago, I had my first mouse in the house. It was the week after the basement flood. I wrote about it. I am quoting myself here:

Peanut Butter Bucket

I was sitting in the kitchen eating my cottage cheese and granola dinner when a mouse skittered across the floor and dived under the fridge. Yes, I was startled; no, I did not yell EEEEEEEK and jump onto the counter, but I did call the junior son who told me to go to Home Depot and get a mouse trap. He told me this is part of adulting, and I needed to do this on my own. Google would help. Sure, it will. 

Having had a wonderful mouser dog and a husband who didn't mind battling critters, my experience with mice and mouse traps was almost non-existent, and what little experience I have had did not end happily. I floated around Google for a bit, and decided I need more help than it was providing, so I did the most adult thing I know...I called my machatunim* who know everything about this kinda stuff. My wonderful machatennister** immediately cried, "What you need is a peanut butter bucket!" and said she had one all put together, I should come over and get it. She also provided the Mousy Ramp for getting said critter into the bucket. She never once mentioned the word "adulting." I love this woman. Good thing they're only 5 minutes away!

The only thing that has changed was the hollering-for-help part. The Junior Son, ever so practical, strongly suggested I keep said bucket...which I did. As I write, it's in exactly the same place as in the original picture.  I'll let you know what happens. 

*******Yup. Worked like a charm. He was a little guy. I still feel kinda bad.*********

That said, I am kinda pissed about the chestnut souvenirs from Florence. I may have to go back to Italy to sneak in a few new ones. Yeah. I could see doing that if this pandemic ever lets up. 

And speaking about things to be pissed off about, turns out this is a thing. Some guy wearing a make-believe tallit (no kippah, mind you) and standing up there like he's an old time Hebrew tribesman, takes a shofar and blows it as he announces his candidacy for Pennsylvania governor. Yeah. Like he's standing at the walls of Jericho and they're gonna tumble on down because he's blowing a shofar. 

On Shabbat no less. Everyone knows you never blow a shofar on Shabbat. Oh, wait. Jews know that....not fakirs in costumes. 

You gotta watch the video on this. The ratty fanfare before he breaks into t'kiah, shevarim, and teruah is enough to send you running to shul for morning minyan. I promise you can never unsee this...this...this...travesty.

Not only is this cultural appropriation without a lick of understanding about what he's doing, but turns out it's some kind of evangelical thing. Now, VOX News is not exactly my go-to source for balanced news, but their article on this wave of shofar-blowing events was a pretty good basic explanation of what's going on. Seems like shofars are getting real popular, although the good/kosher/real ones from Israel are expensive, so they're getting their rams' horns from China. Okay, that strikes me as beyond absurd.

Look, a shofar IS a religious item used in specific services, blown in specific sound patterns with meaning. It's NOT like a Christmas tree; it's not decorative, it's been used in the same way for the same things for several thousand years, and you can't dance to it. And no, smoke doesn't come out of it when you blow. 

And I hafta confess, the image of this louse in a tallit really reminded me of the Nazi guy in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. You know who I mean...the one who dresses up like a High Priest? So far, Mastriano's face hasn't melted yet, but I wanna believe Moshe Rabbenu, Joshua, and the rest of the gang are doubled over laughing at this. But hey! This is show biz, right?

Wanna know what's scarier than a Nazi guy dressed in high priest clothes? 

The percentage of Americans who think this is real, okay, and appropriate because the election was stolen. 

I wish I had some serious words of wisdom for the leader of the Democratic Party. In order to hear any words at all, they would have to stage The GIANT Popping Noise...the one you hear when they all pull their heads outta their asses in a single move. I am rapidly losing faith that we're ever gonna hear that sound. 

BONUS LEXICON

*machatunim: child-in-law's parents.

**machatennister: child-in-law's mother
***mishbucha: family

[not shown but what the heck] machutin: child-in-law's father

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

While the weather outside is frightful

But the couch can be delightful 

With a cup of tea and 

The Pomegranate

It's getting great reviews. If you haven't read it, you should!