Throwing Cans of Dr. Pepper at the Squirrels

Actually, it was one can of Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper but that wasn't quite as catchy of a title.

Also, for those of you that prefer your squirrels in "scampering" mode rather than those of you that like your squirrels in a little gravy on biscuits -- I should state quickly that my keen sense of distance and timing, coupled with my strong athletic ability, was in such a high form that I was able to hit the same yard that the squirrel was in, but just barely.

To tell the story, I should start at the beginning. Not quite so far back as the "When a Daddy and a Mommy love each other...", but back about a year. My wife wanted a new house and had very specific requirements. She wanted at least 4 bedrooms with a large utility room with a basement with a nice kitchen in a good neighborhood with good schools with friendly neighbors with children holding hands and singing in the streets. I, on the other hand, just wanted trees.

We, meaning Nicole, looked and looked and finally nagged enough about a house that we went, looked, fell in like and closed in the span of 20 days (including loans, etc.) This was properly efficient for me to puff out my chest and feel good about my project management skills.

However, for those of you that have not moved into a second house, there is a universal law that things will start to go bad with everything just as you are trying to sell and then after you have signed all the paperwork and are in the new house.

For example, one week before the move House 1.0 decided that the dryer was a unnecessary luxury. After all, it was warm outside and with all the talk of global warming, we could spare the electricity. However, there was not a committee meeting to discuss the issue and my wife was not in agreement. It was still under warranty (dryer door issue) but still -- frustrating.

Not to be outdone, House 2.0 decided that a functioning garage door was also an unnecessary luxury and decided to go on strike by unattaching itself from the actual door. Again, in our fine democracy, there was no meeting, vote or majority consensus.

So that is why on a fine Friday morning I was parked outside our lovely house under our lovely old oak tree. The same oak tree that a family of blue jays had under contract with the city for air rights -- and felt that the angry sqawking was not enough escalation for me to speed up my process of removing myself from their property.

So they pooped on me.

Startled, I did the only thing I could think of as appropriate for the time. I let out a squeak like a little girl, threw the soda can I was carrying and nearly hit an innocent squirrel.