April 25, 2006

Lions And Other Animals

I didn’t care much about exotic animals and how they lived before I went to Africa. Going to the zoo was a chore, not an adventure. The boys were always bringing home books and telling me random facts about various critters that I heard and promptly forgot. It was Finn who ruined the allure of my leopard print Snugglebutt pajamas by identifying them as a jaguar print, which was not nearly as sexy.

Once I got to Kenya and began driving observing the wildlife in its natural habitat, learning about animals became much more exciting. For example, on one game drive we came upon a group of lions lazing about. Even to me, it was obvious that they had eaten recently. They could hardly keep their eyes open.

Our guide told us that in the lion world, the lionesses do all the hunting. After they kill the prey, the men muscle in and eat until they are full. Only then do the ladies get to eat what is left. This fact made an impression on me. Our home is not so different from the Serengeti in this regard.

When it comes to providing food for my family, I am much like a lioness. I go to Publix and purchase the ingredients.

I prepare them, while also watching the news, helping with homework, administering first aid, and mediating fights.

When dinner is served my three cubs pounce. Often I have to restrain them from gobbling everything up until a blessing is said.

If I don’t hustle to the table on Taco Night, I am left to graze upon the sparse remnants of the meal.

Sometimes I just have to fix myself a bowl of cereal instead. I sympathize with the plight of the hardworking lionesses in Kenya.

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Since the ~~tragic~~ death of the hermit crabs I have added another Animal to this household, and it cleans messes instead of making them.

Yes, I purchased the purple Dyson Animal, and I am a satisfied customer. Here is proof of the vacuum’s remarkable capabilities. I performed a test that any nitwit could think up. First, while Bill lay on the sofa laughing at my enthusiasm, I vacuumed the den rug thoroughly with my old Hoover Wind Tunnel.

(This is the miniskirt that in an extreme lapse of judgment, I wore to my 20th high school reunion. Bad fashion choice. My little sister later helped me clean out my closet, and told me not to wear it out of the house; thus I wear it only around the house when doing things like making tacos or vacuuming.)

Then the boys gathered around and helped me assemble the Animal, which was quite easy.

The boys were begging to use the Animal first, but after spending that kind of money I wasn’t about to cede the virginal scouring of the rug to them. I vacuumed the den with the Dyson, and then we all gathered around to inspect the contents of the dirt chamber. Look what 100,000 G of centrifugal force sucked out of my “clean” rug:

Whoa! Seeing all that dust and dirt was so satisfying that I immediately vacuumed the rest of the house, with equally stellar results.

The Animal comes with about eight different attachments, which were pretty intimidating. I’ve never been one to sit down with an instruction manual and work out how to insert part A into part B. Fortunately, Porter had an innate feel for the workings of the Dyson, and soon had it in full stairway mode.