The Tupperware Problem and the Thanksgiving Snake

Thanksgiving is a time of abundance. We prepare more than enough food, but it's okay, because the leftovers last for several days.

There is the turkey and the pumpkin pie, the stuffing and the yams, and the cranberry sauce.

We eat until we are stuffed, and still there is plenty left over. This year, even Bow realized he did not need to finish it all in one sitting. He did not really work that hard on the turkey and the stuffing, focusing more on the cranberry sauce and the sparkling red grape juice.

When everybody has had their fill and they are just too sleepy and tuckered out for any more digestive effort, that is when we break out the Tupperware. I have to dig deep to try to find the covers to all the containers, so that everything is properly put away, ready to be eaten slowly over the next week. 

Invariably, some containers are found for which there are no covers, and some covers are found for which there is no container. Nevertheless, I managed to put everything away last night, with only a few mismatched items of Tupperware remaining, when I spotted that ribbon in the hallway that seemed out of place. 

I think I actually walked over it first, then did a double take. Not a ribbon. A snake!

Of course, what I normally do when I find a snake I need to transport from one location to another is to break out the Tupperware. I usually look for a container that will easily accommodate that particular snake. But this was Thanksgiving! All my really good Tupperware was in use and filled to the brim with goodies. I had just put everything away in the refrigerator! The only thing left were the badly mismatched containers and lids. And here was this snake!

By the time I grabbed the best container and lid I could find, the Thanksgiving snake was already making plans to escape my clutches. But I had my mother and daughter to think of, neither of whom are particularly fond of snakes.

I had to capture the snake and transport him outside before he hid somewhere in the house, only to emerge at the worst possible moment. So I pushed him with my badly chosen rectangular lid into the the circcular opening of the container I had and gingerly held the lid over the container.

I don't have pictures of this, but at one point the snake's tail was hanging outside the container while the head and majority of his body were inside. Luckily, he decided to cooperate and tucked his tail into the container, accommodating himself to its shape, so that I could press the mismatched lid firmly onto the container.

Then I transported him outside and a little way from the house. When I removed the lid, he seemed happy to escape into the night.

Any other time of the year, I have plenty of Tupperware for snakes. But on Thanksgiving day, there is only that mismatched Tupperware left. Luckily, the snake was understanding, and he cooperated even when my containers were not absolutely right for the task. That is something to be thankful for!

Unseasonably Warm and Windy with a Guest Wasp

Today has been unusually warm for an autumn day. All day long the wind has been whipping at the leaves.

Bow asked to go outside in the morning and enjoyed expressing himself.

He let everyone know exactly how he felt: strong and important and powerful.

He talked to the dogs in a gentler tone.

He watched the wind whip at the leaves.

And he settled down into a quiet contemplation of nature.

Bow settled down into some deep thoughts that he did not share with me.

We are close, but even in closeness not all is revealed.

After lunch I went for a walk in the pasture in the hot breezy air. When I returned, I found that Bow had an unexpected guest in the inner pen with him: a wasp.

The wasp was walking around on the floor, and Bow was ignoring it. I went to get a container to put over the wasp. Bow was singularly uninterested in what I was doing.

I then needed to get a nice stiff sheet of paper to put under the container, so I could transport the wasp out. The laminated newspaper account about the signing for "Theodosia and the Pirates" that Representative Ross had sent me earlier this year came in handy for that.

I slipped the laminated newspaper under the container and the wasp was trapped and ready for transport.

Bow was not interested in the wasp still. Something else on the floor caught his attention.

He did not object, however, when I took the wasp outside to release it. The wasp did not seem in a hurry to fly away, though.

When I went back to Bow in the inner pen, he did not mention the wasp at all. He just wanted me to get him his rug.

Too Cold Out to Play

Today is the first truly cold day of the season. Even the woolly worms have all disappeared. It's too cold to play out. But Bow insisted on going out, anyway.

He sat there for a moment under the swing, shivering, and then he asked to go right back in. Once inside, he asked for his rug, which at this point is a very small bundle of rags.

He sat there looking dejected and cold and sad. But then I had an idea that would cheer us both up on such a chilly day. Hot chocolate! I told Bow about my idea, and he immediately perked up. He kept cheering me on with positive grunts as I prepared the hot chocolate in the kitchen. I served it with a spoon and warned him it was still quite hot.

Bow took delight in every aspect of his hot chocolate, handling the cup and the saucer and the spoon with care.

He took careful sips with the spoon at first.

Later, when he determined it was safe to do so, he started sipping directly from the cup.

He was very delicate and careful throughout the process.

Bow drank his hot chocolate slowly and deliberately until there was none left. Even after he had handed me back the cup and saucer, he still kept on slurping contentedly, savoring the memory of the warm, sweet treat. He was no longer upset about it being too cold to play out.