How Squirrels Prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse

Last weekend, we saw this thing that the squirrels did and it kind of freaked me out. It’s like they’re getting ready for something.

Preparing.

Maybe because this is the second drought year in a row in California. Maybe because they know that next year, Winter is Coming.

But what if they did it because something wicked this way comes? And if you think spooky Shakespeare is too much, look at this.

It’s a pine tree, right? Not even that big. Normal size for Southern California mountains.

Get closer.

What is that?

It’s my proof that something is up:

The woodpeckers made the holes. Then squirrels filled them up with acorns. Every. Single. Hole. From the bottom of the tree to the top.

Here’s the stream of conscious that happened while I was looking at this tree: That’s a LOT of acorns. They could feed a LOT of squirrels. Heck, they could feed an entire family of people. They could feed MY family of people in an emergency. And every single pine tree in the dang park looks like this.

In the Springtime, after the mildest winter So Cal has seen in decades.

Waaaaiiit a minute.

They know something. And whatever it is made them store ten years of squirrel food in a grove of trees in Southern California, which translates to roughly two years for a human family of five. So even though I’d love to tell you where I found these trees, I’m not going to, just in case. I’m sure you understand.

But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Stolen Goods ~ Dana

*Names have been changed in this story to protect… the guilty (me).

When I was playing volleyball for Long Beach State in the mid 90s, the men’s and the women’s teams were a pretty tight knit group. We hung out together, went out dancing together, had classes together, dated, and knew each other’s parents. Among the favorites of all of the parents was Suzy* who was the mom of one of the guys on the men’s team. Suzy is beyond tall, is always sun-kissed tan, has the perfect natural shade of sandy blonde hair, and a gorgeous twinkle in her sky blue eyes. And on top of it all, Suzy can bake. She used to bring bags of frozen chocolate chip cookies for her son and all of his friends. And they were delicious.

At one point, I was dating Suzy’s son’s best friend. So we all trundled down to San Diego to Suzy’s house for a few home-cooked meals and lots of beach volleyball. When we arrived, the guys headed out to the beach and I stayed behind to help Suzy with dinner prep and cookie baking. As she got her cookie recipe out, I raved about the cookies, and how everyone loved them, then followed up with a question, “May I copy down your recipe?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Suzy was also known for being a Dr. Laura-type no-nonsense woman. She explained that it was her recipe and she didn’t share. My duties were to man the mixer and start it when she had added all the ingredients.

I’m not going to lie; I was hurt. And mad. I mean, really? Who doesn’t share recipes?

The rest of the weekend was lovely. Fun, sun, delicious bar-be-ques. On our last evening there, the kids all went out to a few local bars and had a grand old time. When we got back to Suzy’s house, we were all ready to turn in as we were going to head back to Long Beach early the next morning. And when I turned out the light in my perfectly darling guest room, the idea hit me: I was going to get that cookie recipe. The boys were all sleeping on the floor in the living room; so sneaking around the kitchen would be tenuous, at best. Nonetheless, I had the courage of a few adult beverages behind me, and I was on a mission.

I crept down the stairs and blindly started going through drawers. These were the days before cell phones, so I had no instant flashlight, and I couldn’t just snap a picture of the recipe when I found it. Soon, I found a paper and pen, and after a few drawers of kitchen utensils and canned goods, finally found her recipe box and scribbled the recipe as quickly as I could, completely undetected. Thank you, margaritas.

We packed up the next morning, ate the breakfast burritos Suzy made for us, and I never looked back! I’m a thief and I have no remorse. None.

So today, I will share with you my stolen cookie recipe. They really are delicious and I giggle every time I make them. I hope you enjoy!

Suzy’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

2¼ c. flour

1 tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. salt

2 eggs

1 c. shortening

1 tsp. vanilla

¾ c. white sugar

¾ c. brown sugar

1 12 oz bag toll house semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375.

Mix flour, salt, and baking soda separately. In the mixing bowl of a mixer, beat together shortening, vanilla, and sugars until creamy. Add eggs one at a time and beat well. Slowly add flour mixture and beat on low speed until well incorporated. Once all flour is added, stir in chocolate chips.

Drop by heaping tablespoons onto cookie sheet and bake for 9 minutes.

Scouring the Sink ~ Dana

Well, for those of you who are hoping that title is a metaphor, you are sadly mistaken. It’s time for another recipe for our Footloose and Chemical Free page. I have been in a stalemate with adding new cleaning and beauty products to my cabinets, but I am reinvigorated and renewed and finding lots of new great cleaning products!

I’ve always used scouring agents in my kitchen sink and in my bathrooms. But last week, when I dropped the Comet in the bathtub and inhaled a nice green dust cloud, I knew it was time to start looking around for an all-natural alternative. I came across this recipe at bloom-doula.com, which is quickly becoming a great resource that I turn to for information on essential oils.

I already had all of the ingredients on hand for my other all-natural cleaners (like laundry detergent, all purpose cleaner, and hand sanitizer), so it was no problem to measure them out and mix them together in a mason jar. No more green dust. No more harsh chemicals.

Powdered Sink Cleaner

½ cup Borax

½ cup super washing soda

½ cup baking soda (set aside 1 Tbsp if you will be using essential oils)

½ cup salt

15 drops essential oil (I used lime for my first batch, but lavender, lemon, or grapefruit would also work)

Directions:

1. Combine Borax, washing soda, baking soda, and salt in a (preferably glass) container with 2 cup capacity. If using essential oils, keep 1 Tbsp baking soda aside.

2. To add the essential oils, mix 1 Tbsp baking soda and 15 drops essential oils together with a mortar and pestle for several seconds until well combined. Then add to the other ingredients.

3. Cover container and shake well to thoroughly combine all ingredients.

4. Use as you would any store-bought abrasive cleaner like Ajax or Comet. Sprinkle a small amount over desired surface and scrub with a damp cloth or sponge. Rinse well.

I’ve also started using that AWESOME hand-crocheted dishcloth, pictured above, that my mom’s cousin, Reenie, made. Homemade, sustainable, wonderful! In case you are interested in making your own, I found this tutorial online. You’re welcome.

Cookie Monster ~ Jen

I was a Campfire girl. We didn’t sell cookies. We sold almond roca and mints. And it wasn’t a very big deal. We walked the neighborhood, called grandma and sold at the local grocery store.

To be fair, I don’t think Girl Scout cookies were a great big thing in the 80s either.

Teresa is a Gold Award Scout. That’s the Girl Scout equivalent of an Eagle Scout. Over the last 15 years, I have bought my fair share of cookies from her. Cookies were always a big thing for her, but I just assumed she was good at selling them, and probably the exception, not the rule.

The last month—our first foray into Girl Scout cookie selling—has disabused me of that notion.

Every single movie parody, stand up routine and Saturday Night Live send up of the Girl Scouts is deserved. Maybe not where the girls are concerned, but I promise you that the adult Girl Scout world is a virtual Jonestown and you better drink the koolaide.

From the Family Guide to Cookies 2014 published by the Girl Scouts:

Why a cookie program?

Did you know that participating in a Cookie Program helps build self-esteem? Learning that you can set a goal, budget for your needs, create a marketing plan and then go and make it happen teaches our girls to believe in themselves better than any “self-help” training.

Doesn’t that sound like a creepy recruiting pitch for selling timeshares in the Caribbean?

When you couple this with the understanding that only $.70 of each $4 box goes back to the troop or scout and that our leaders were required to commit to a certain number of cases before ordering started, that little blurb is pretty impressive spin for what is a massive fundraising campaign for the organization. GSA gets $2.08 per box.

Also in the Family Guide to Cookies:

If you can’t see it, these are the guidelines on Whistleblowing and Divorces. Third party whistleblowing is not acceptable, along with anonymous whistleblowing. If you are going to call out your five year old neighbor for doing a walk-about after the walk-about sale window has closed, you better be ready to give your full name.

My favorite part of this little publication:

I’ve tried for three weeks, but cannot begin to imagine a situation where a border treaty seemed like the only, best, last solution.

I’m running a huge risk by writing this. It says very clearly in the Adult Code of Conduct—which both Shea and I had to sign—that willful creation of discord is a violation. Uh-oh.

Because I haven’t even said what I really want to say.

How on earth can an organization which claims to want the best for their scouts, including physical health, sell these things, which are pure crap??? Tons of calories, sugar, palm oil and unpronounceable ingredients.

The Thin Mints and Peanut Butter Patties are vegan. How can that be when they are covered in chocolate, I wondered. Turns out, chocolate comes from a bean. That’s vegan. The higher the percentage of chocolate, the more pure it is.

And yet my ingredients list clearly states that the Thin Mints and Patties contain less than 2% of cocoa. Animal by-products are not vegan, but chemicals are? Talk about the letter and not the spirit of the law.*

And how about the math of it all?

If a young lady sells 1250 boxes of cookies, she qualifies for a Google Chromebook. She’s earned her troop $875. She’s earned GSA $2575. She’s earned herself $400 in Cookie Dough that she can apply towards Girl Scout trips and costs. The troop and GSA take-away from this child’s efforts is $3050.

A Google Chromebook retails for $199.

Maybe these details are the man behind the curtain when we’re talking about building self-esteem “better than any self-help training”.

Two weeks ago, I got called in to help pick up our cookies because I have a Tahoe. I drove to our local semi-pro baseball stadium where I was directed by a woman wearing a tutu to park in the holding lot. I joined two of our troop leaders in their big cars. At our appointed time, we lined up our cars to drive through the parking lot. At this point I was kind of out of words because we were following behind a U-Haul that someone rented to pick up their cookies. Across the parking lot, I could see toy haulers and horse trailers. I was told not to get out of my car at any time for any reason once I entered the cookie line, where soccer moms and dads wearing tutus were loading boxes of cookies and grooving to Taylor Swift.

When our leader hit the front of the line, the lady with the clipboard laughed. Threw her head back and laughed.

“You’re only getting 67 cases? You don’t need all these cars! You only need one. We can get 230 cases into the back of a mini-van!”

Our troop leader, who I love and who I know will never drink the Koolaide, waved me off with a roll of the eyes and a smile. I knew what she was thinking: Now we’re that troop.

Thank. Goodness.

*I’m not saying that I didn’t eat a whole box of Thin Mints all by myself. I’m just saying it was bad for me.

Two to Tango ~ Dana

Last weekend I completely stepped out of my comfort zone and, at the age of 38, performed the Argentine Tango in my first dance recital.

Here’s how it all came about. A very good friend of mine is a professional ballroom dancer. In fact, he and his professional partner recently came in 3rd in the world in an international competition in Amsterdam. I met Jaime when my husband bought us West Coast Swing dance lessons for Valentine’s Day before we had kids. Since then, Jaime and I have danced on and off, just for fun, in my living room and have become dear friends. This last October, we were talking about my birthday and how I was struggling with the recent loss of my father.

“Remember the part in the movie Evita when the couples are dancing the tango, clinging to each other in their sadness after her death?” I asked him one night. “Can you just come and dance with me? Can I just cling to you and cry and tango?”

Without a second thought, Jaime said to me, “I’ll do one better. I will choreograph a tango and you and I will dance it in honor of your father at the studio’s showcase in January.” I sobbed.

Now, let me represent my Long Beach State Volleyball girls and say that I can dance… up in the nightclubs. If you were out dancing on Second Street in Long Beach some time between 1995 and 1998, we probably danced together, especially if you were at Belmont Station. You would have noticed us, me and my 6 foot and above teammates. But let me be the first to tell you that dancing out there is WAY different than dancing in the ballroom. Way. Poor Jaime. There’s probably nothing worse than trying to get the nightclub dancer out of a girl. And to be honest, I didn’t realize just how much I really needed to learn.

The first day that I came to the studio, it was pouring rain. Jaime was waiting in the dance room, dressed in slacks, and a vest and tie. He began teaching me the Argentine Tango and I cried. A lot. Over the next weeks and months, we met every Wednesday. Every Wednesday he showed up for me, taught me, let me cry, and demanded my best, for me and for my father.

Luckily I understand what my body is doing, but at almost 40, it can be hard to make my knees do what I want them to. When did start to move like an old lady? My favorite thing that Jaime says to me is, “Ok, do it again, but this time don’t make it look like you’re in pain.” Damn it.

All week long I had been filled with emotion: love for my dad, sorrow for missing him, gratitude for Jaime’s friendship, nervousness for wanting to do well. Saturday night, when I couldn’t sleep, I found Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 on television. Near the end, as Harry is preparing to face his enemy, he is surrounded by his parents, and others, who have died. He looks at his mother and says, “Why are you here?” and she looks at him with love and says, “We never left.” I looked into the darkness, hoping to see, perhaps, my dad sitting in the leather club chair across the room. I whispered, “Are you still here, too?”

Sunday was our big day. With perfectly coifed hair and gorgeous makeup, I stepped onto the dance floor with my darling friend. We danced to “Milonga del Angel” by Astor Piazzolla, a beautifully sad and mournful tango song.

Fast, sharp, explosive steps and kicks, followed by slow, passionate accents and movements, characterize the tango itself. I can still hear Jaime’s voice from rehearsals, “Slow, slow, quick, quick, up… and… fast, swivel, swivel, swivel, stop!” And so goes the dance of grief. There are times of rage, of desperation, of explosive pain; and there are times of quiet sadness, of nostalgia. And it’s often surprising to me how intertwined they all become.

So I had my dance. I had my Evita moment and clung to my partner in sorrow. And it was life-changing. My family and my friends, who have been so unfailingly supportive the last eight months, surrounded me once more. And by becoming vulnerable, by opening my wounded heart for others to see, I invited in healing. I invited in love. By allowing them to carry me through the hard days, I find the strength to carry on. And I was again reminded that love goes on living, long after the body dies.

And to Jaime, thank you. Thank you for your generosity of spirit. Thank you for your grace and elegance. Thank you for your professionalism and your amazing talent. And mostly, thank you for sharing all of that with me, dear friend. I love you.

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