Oh, rats!

Late one night a couple of weeks ago, my oldest daughter, Megan, and I sat on the deck, when the party was winding down and most everyone had left. "You hear that squeaking sound?" she asked. I said I did, and she said with great sureness, "It's rats." When I reported this to Elizabeth a night or two later, she said, "Do we know that she knows this for sure?"
The next night, Elizabeth came in and said, "Megan was right. I saw them."
So we've met for rat watch (with wine, of course) every night about eight-thirty or so. Elizabeth's night vision is better than mine, as is her hearing unless I have my hearing aids in. So she sees them and hears them (sometimes I do, and I caught a glimpse of a bold one going from the tree to the gutter one evening).
Last night was the kicker--a baby rat fell out of the sky (actually probably from a tree) and landed too close for comfort to Elizabeth. She and my friend Linda had just been discussing talking to the rats, explaining to them, that we know they're hungry but they should move on. When the rat fell, I said, "Just talk to it, Elizabeth." She did, but it's unprintable.
The attraction has been my fig bush. Every year something eats the figs, and I thought it was birds and squirrels, so we put up tin pie plates. But those don't phase rats--and Elizabeth has seen them eating figs. Tonight the fig tree is bare of fruit, but the squeaking was less and we only had two sightings.
Sophie has been vigilant throughout. She sits alert on the edge of the porch and occasionally dashes off to bark at a tree or branch. She has a grand time, and I suspect she at least keeps the rats off the ground. She did chase the one that landed at Elizabeth's feet but fortunately didn't catch it.
Greg, the lawn guy, think they'll move on now that the food supply is diminished. But I've had rats in my attic (and bats in my belfry) before and don't want to repeat the experience. I've ordered a sonic rat repeller.
It's lovely to be so surrounded by trees, but it does have drawbacks. And some year, I'd like to have my fig crop. My mom loved figs and often had a huge crop in North Carolina.

Trivia-and Jacob

Does someone out there in junk email-land know more about my finances than I do? I am suddenly deluged with offers of quick cash, advance loans, all sorts of ways to get instant money. Just think of the trouble people get into if they reply to these emails. They show up in my junk mail and in the mail TCU quarantines. And its just happened all of the sudden, like someone sent out word "Here's a likelly patsy."
Another frustration: figs cost like gold in the grocery (when you can find them) yet they're popular in a lot of trendy recipes in  Bon Appetit and similar publications. I have a source of wealth in my backyard--a large tree with tons of little green figs. But every time one gets at all near ripe, some critter--bird or squirrel?--takes an unappetizing chunk out of it.
A new frustration: a really sore tooth. I'm hoping by Monday, when I can call the dentist, it will have healed itself. They do that, don't they . . . sometimes?
Jacob has been here since noon--I fixed lunch for his dad and him, and we had a good visit. Then Christian went off to work. Jacob has been sweet and happy. My former neighbor Sue and her parents came for a glass of wine about five--I always enjoy her parents. They are from Canda, which gives me a link, and they're my age and nice people. Jacob, sometimes shy, was bright, outgoing and funny, and we all enjoyed a good visit. Now I'm in the throes of trying to get Jacob to bed--his mom complains that he stays up too late at my house (it has an advantage--he sleeps later in the morning). But he can draw out the bedtime process longer than anyone I know. I'm about to go turn off the TV, but he will play with his toys long after that. I always hope he'll go to sleep before I'm ready to.
Jacob was leery of my dog and cat when he was little. He long ago decided the cat is his friend and loves him (I'm not so sure about that, but Wywy tolerates him) and tonight Jacob was more involved with the dog than he has been, kept saying, "He's a good dog." He is, and he has the sweetest disposition--he's just sometimes overhwhelming with his enthusiasm. But they had a happy meeting tonight, which says to me Jacob is growing up--and maybe Scooby, who will be eleven in August, is mellowing with age.
While I kept Jacob company, I actually got a lot of work done on my food book--notes taken. I am so intrigued by this, though I'll be glad to work through the section on Wolf Brand Chili.

A new baby, garden news, and anticipation

My nephew Russ and his wife Beth welcomed their third child yesterday--how could I have forgotten that in last night's blog? So far, the little boy has a middle name (his mom's maiden name) but no first name. He was ten days early and and on a breathing machine. It's not, Russ assures me, a serious problem, but little "no name yet" will stay in the hospital when Mom goes home tomorrow. (Both Mom and Dad in this case are physicians, so I take their word for it!) So we  rejoice in this addition to the family. John now has four grandchildren and is expecting a fifth in September--he's catching up to me! He said yesterday he never imagined himself having grandchildren and he couldn't be more delighted--and I couldn't be happier for him.
Greg ate the first fig of my bountiful crop today--I told him the first one was his--and said it was delicious and sweeet. He's going to start walking up every evening or so to check our harvest, so we can get them before the squirrels and birds do. Some really huge figs on the tree--previous years the yard man always trimmed the tree way back--Greg let it grow out into the yard so it got sun, and the result is this huge crop, many still small but the big ones grew a lot in a week. He also discovered a big stand of poke sallet growing behind my garage. I've eaten it--Aunt Reva (Charles' late wife) used to cook it, with the strong warning that it was poison and you had to boil it, drain it, and boil it again. I don't remember much about the taste, though since I like spinach I suppose I liked it. Greg says it has a bitter taste. His grandmother or someone used to boil it and then fry it, but I'm a bit leery. I did call Charles and tell him I had it, and he says I need to be brave and cook it. What I need is an good old elderly Texas cook. I doubt there are many around who remember cooking poke sallet.
Part of the pleasure of any happy event is anticipation, and I am filled with anticipation today for the arrival sometime this evening of the Houston Alters and the Frisco Alters, plus Jacob will be here at six. I am not planning dinner for any of the others--their arrival time is uncertain. I'd planned to cook casseroles, but the boys both said not to and they were right--I'd have ended up with a lot of leftover casserole I don't need, and I'd have spent the morning cooking. As it is, I cleaned the house (superficially, I admit, but all the linens are clean), did my yoga, and piddled. A most pleasant day.
Of course anticipation has its downside--it's the enemy of anxiety. It's not that you can't walk across that open space or drive on that highway, it's anticipating it that gets you. But I'm not thinking about that today. This is a happy day!