Goodbye, Rocky

Ben and I lost a big piece of ourselves last week--Rocky Weasel. Born in September, 2005 and originally from a pet store in Hudson, New York, Rocky (along with myself) had the misfortune to live with my ex-boyfriend Geoff for the early portion of his life. When I came back from a caretaker gig in the Vermont wilderness, I liberated Rocky W., along with his cohorts Little Miss (aka Tiny Weasel) and Ichabod from the kennel where he'd left them. They came to live with me and Ben in New Haven, Connecticut in December, an event that shall forever be remembered as the infamous Weasel Christmas of 2006.
Mistrustful from being abandoned, Rocky had quite the fierce bite when we first acquired him. Eventually, he learned to trust us--becoming the sweetest, smartest pet I've ever known. Rocky picked up tricks easily, became a rock star on YouTube, and accompanied us on many adventures, including our cross-country move to Oregon. He has partied like a rock star at a New Orleans hotel during Mardi Gras, taken in sweeping views of the Grand Canyon, and pooped in the corners of countless La Quinta hotels across the continental United States. Despite the YouTube fame of his "Up" trick, far more impressive was his ability to roll on command, known locally in our household as "Rocky, Roll." A holdover from our aquarist days in Connecticut, he had a sweet tooth for algae wafers and would perform his trick the second he smelled the treat.
More important, Rocky was a real little person. He had the ability to look you in the eye, fret when Ben or I was gone, and, I think, to love us, too. We'll miss you, Rocky Weasel.

Rocky Weasel (Sept., 2005 - July, 2012)

Dancin' Strawberry Man

It's not every day that you find a dancing strawberry man in your strawberries:

I went looking for morels today with Ben, but we didn't find any. Still, beautiful weather and a nice walk at Luckiamute. I didn't take any photos of that, but I do have a picture of me and Tiny Weasel taking a nap:

That's all for now.

Off the Bagel

Sometimes looking at restaurant menus is a good source of inspiration for cooking at home. Tonight, I was thinking about Eugene, which made me dig up the menu for Off the Waffle, an amazing waffle restaurant. Somehow, I ended up making a bagel topped with a fried egg, spinach, avocado, paprika, and pepper:

It wasn't bad, but it was no Liège waffle. Luckily, I might soon be writing for a Eugene daily paper, which would enable waffle-related field trips.

In other news, here's a photo of Tiny Weasel eating food:

It kind of makes me think of the Alien movies for some reason. That's all for now.

Bite of Benton, Tiny Weasel Update, and Screech

Today Ben and I went to A Bite of Benton, where you pay $10 for five "bites" of food, drink, or dessert. The desserts were the best: we each had a small cup of Francesco's gelato, plus brought an extra brownie home for later. Now Ben is off to work and I'm back in my office, which I escaped yesterday for a board game night in Albany.
Tiny Weasel is fine and reports that the top layer of sutures (which she chewed out) was quite unnecessary. She's been reintegrated with the other ferrets, who seem pleased to see her again. Here's a video of her drinking water ten minutes ago, to show she is alive and well for those of you who voiced concern (i.e. my mom):

This video, or something close to it, is what Ben pictures happening in my mind whenever I have a vacant look in my eye.
Out on our deck, we've traded our original scrub jay, Peanut, for a new scrub jay who we've named Screech. This morning, Ben came home to find him sitting on the bowl of peanuts screaming his lungs out at two other scrub jays. Even though he sometimes wakes us up at 6 a.m., I prefer Screech to Peanut, as the latter had developed a taste for my strawberries. All of a sudden, my plants seem to be producing a lot more berries.

Tiny Weasel's Big Day Out

Tiny Weasel had a couple irregular bumps on her, so on Tuesday I brought her to the vet for surgery. It was that or rename her Tiny Bumps, which doesn't quite have the same ring as Tiny Weasel. Sadly, she decided to tear out her sutures today. We brought her to the vet for emergency care and they used a special glue to close the wound. An hour later, she decided the glue needed to come out, too. Ben and I theorize that she has become a Christian Scientist.
With all the vet visits, Tiny is absolutely done with me, vets, medication, and trips in the car. Luckily, now she's on heavy sedation, so she no longer cares about any of it.

Translation of weasel stare: "How could you do this to me?"

Other than the Tiny Weasel emergency (and that's a pretty big other, all considered), it's been a pretty good week -- at least in terms of food. Tonight Ben and I made dumplings, and last night I made overly elaborate pizza bagels for dinner.

Spiny Norman helped with clean up, as always. He does not like tomatoes, but he says Veggie Shreds are pretty awesome. Garlic is OK to eat once, and then never again. I ate all the olives and basil, so he didn't have a chance to perform his restaurant critic powers of observation on them.

Regret

Every time I bring home strawberries from the farmers' market, Tiny Weasel rues the day she became an obligate carnivore.

Now with Video Capability

Because I've never tried to embed a video into a blog post before, I hereby present a video of Rocky Weasel licking his chops for a full minute:

Climb-a-bod

Today's highlight: Ichabod learned how to climb the screen door.