M I C... (C ya real soon).. K E Y.... (Y? Because it's friggin' cold out, guaranteed you're trying to break in.) M O U S E.
My youngest niece and I play Wordle every morning. Her hubby drives for a potato chip company, which means, get up, get to work, hurry, hurry, get done, beat all the other venders... ie, she's up and going when I am.... 3 ish, 4 ish. (My getting up early is due to old age, having to pee, insomnia, and.. habit.)
Today is probably the last day I'll ever play her in Wordle again. (She, 2, me, 4.. I hate her).. We share tales of excitement and mebbe we're sometimes boring with, "it's Tuesday, so it must be your nothing day eh" Today was different.
"The excitement here this morning? Hubby noticed Quincy (their kitty cat) 'playing' with something... turns out it was a mouse!!! Which, really ticks me off after all my cleaning!! Q had already killed it and I'm sooooooo glad hubby saw it or this would be a very different conversation right now. My skin is still crawling, eww!"
In every situation of life, I try to put myself into other shoes, or, in this case, into the tiny claws of Mr. Mouse. "Brrrrr its cold out here.... hey, look at that nice, WARM house. I see a hole the size of a dime (Wiki tell me mice can do that, squeeze their bodies thru a hole the size of a dime... or, a quarter inch or so), I'm going to squeeze thru, see what they got to eat, jump up on the couch (Wiki tell me mice can jump a FOOT).. maybe catch some Steve Harvey Family Fued... Kelly Clarkson... and, I always got the Disney Channel to fall back on... while we mice don't get royalties, name image and likeness crap like that, we should...
I got a new air fryer. VICTOR, tea, china? Every time I use my air fryer, I always Google or AI or whateverinthehell it's called now, "How long should I cook (a hamburger, KC Strip Steak, Boneless Pork Chop, etc)" cause of all the ways I can die, I don't want it to be a food related illness.
So, I Google/Wiki'ed'AI'ed "How long should you cook a mouse in the air fryer.?" 'You should not cook a mouse in an air fryer, as mice carry diseases and their consumption is a significant health risk."
In this day and age of CNN, FOX, SNOPES, that crap, I always seek another source to fact check. Turns out, GoogleWikiAI speaky with forked tongue. In Victorian Britain, fried mice were given to children as a folk remedy for bed-wetting. ("NO MOM, do I really haveta? Ain't we flying to Orlando Tuesday?)
They (mouses) are a delicacy in eastern Zambia and northern Malawi. Curiosity lends why not western Zambia or southern Malawi?
I learned too, don't talk badly about them. They've got keen ears (they can't see crap, but they can hear a wider range of frequencies than humans. And, they have emotions. Researchers at the Max Planck Institute of Neurobiology (wherever and whateverntheheck that is) relate they've used a machine vision to spot familiar human emotions like pleasure, disgust, nausea, pain and fear. Sounds to me like mice may smoke pot too, I dunno.
So... Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, and Phooey - more than you ever wanted to know about mice.
*Disclaimer. Actually not. Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, and Phooey are famous mousetronauts, having orbited the moon a record 75 times in 1972 on Apollo 17. I wonder if air fryers had been invented back then?
My niece, the one I usedta play in Wordle until she gotta 2 today, told me, when she was a kid she'd kill a bug... her mom (my wunnerful sister) would say ""that was probably a mama bug bringing food home to her babies."
On the other hand. I no likey mouses either. I'm not starting a GoFundMe to universally git ridda em, but... and knowing there are live capture options, I wouldn't be offended if you purchased a Victor trap and smashed the hell outta em either. Who knows, I might get a royalty.
C ya real soon. M O U S E.
Victor, an entire blog without one musical reference. Au contraire... The title even is a lyric... but, whatever...
Baby it's cold outside. (There, stick that one up your Funk and Wagnall.)
Forward by Walt Disney
Love, Victurd
*True story, believe it or not. My paternal grandfather got a 2nd job as a janitor in Walt Disney's studio in Kansas City way back in the day. He told us Mr. Disney used to stay late, was a nice, nice man and that they had wonderful conversations. What I wouldn't give for one sack of trash that he threw away at any time during that era.
