Jimothy and The Hot Trash Panda Summer 🦝

In the midst of all the horrible stories swirling around this country, the talk of the town is the shiniest ray of light, #Jimothy, Seattle’s latest local legend!

I’ve named him Dr. Jimothy Sprinkles, since UW conferred an honorary Ph.D. on this special little guy.

Credit to creator, found on Twitter

Jimothy is a short-spined raccoon spotted thriving in Ballard, a suburb of Seattle, despite a rare congenital condition. He doesn’t seem to be in pain and it looks like he’s living his best life.

The Ferals (formerly Angel Kids) hope they get a glimpse of him because the sightings have been fairly close to their neighborhood.

A raccoon dubbed “Jimothy” that was seen trotting on long legs across a patch of grass may have short spine syndrome, a rare congenital disorder. (Courtesy of Kiana Hall)
Courtesy of Kiana Hall

Filming the creature with her cellphone Monday night, Kiana Hall was certain of only one thing: The tiny beast skittering out from under a car in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood was definitely not a cat. 

“I got very confused at what I was seeing,” Hall said. “I just have never seen any other animal like it.” 

She also didn’t know her five-second video clip would turn a teetering trash panda into an overnight internet celebrity.

Hall, 33, and her partner were strolling near the Ballard Goodwill about 8:30 p.m. Monday when she spotted what she thought was a cat under a car. She took out her phone to film the animal, then watched in disbelief as a decidedly different critter crept from the shadows. 

Smaller than a house cat and unusually round, the gray-furred creature loped on long legs across a patch of grass and up a nearby staircase before climbing over a fence and out of sight. Hall guessed it was a raccoon based on its masklike facial markings. She also suspected it had short spine syndrome, a rare congenital disorder she had learned about online.

Hall published the video the next day on her Instagram, naming the creature “Jimothy” because, she said, “he looked like a Jimothy.” 

Within hours, Hall’s video started going viral, garnering more than 5 million views and thousands of comments by Thursday afternoon. A Ballard resident who saw the video recognized Jimothy as an oddly shaped raccoon their security cameras had captured last month crawling on their patio. The resident posted their footage Wednesday on Reddit, attracting hundreds of awed comments, including ones comparing Jimothy to mythical creatures like cryptids and chupacabras. 

And thus, Seattle’s latest local legend — a belovedly bedraggled raccoon — was born. 

Seattleites’ adoption of Jimothy as their scrappy hometown hero has brought Hall “a lot of joy,” she said in a Thursday phone call. 

“I think times have been hard for everyone, so I’m really happy to have posted something online that reaches so many people and makes them so happy,” Hall said. “I just hope (Jimothy) continues to live his life freely and I hope he can be healthy.”

Jimothy’s prognosis seems positive, despite his unusual appearance, said Marcie Logsdon, an associate professor at Washington State University’s Veterinary Teaching Hospital. 

Logsdon could not diagnose Jimothy based on reviewing the videos of the “kind of crazy little thing.” But she said the raccoon was likely born this year, and that its abnormally shortened neck is likely caused by a congenital deformity of the spine. 

Jimothy appears to be functioning well and “very spry,” excellent signs for his survival in the wild, Logsdon said. 

“The fact that he’s made it to this age tells me that he’s managing and that he’s adapting,” she said. “I was surprised and honestly a little bit inspired that he’s that resilient.” 

Jimothy is likely best off “left to his own devices.” Anyone who spots him and is concerned about his health should call a local wildlife rehabilitator before trying to intervene, she said. 

“Raccoons are amazing because they have done an amazing job at adapting to and sharing urban and suburban areas,” she said. “But respectful sharing needs to remain just that.” (Curated from Catalina Gaitán, Seattle Times breaking news reporter.)

This is my personal fave cos Angel Boy (only slightly feral) teaches at UW.

Now there’s a song about #Jimothy!

Roundup of Random Annoyances

On Thursday afternoon, I saw a white van parked DIRECTLY across my driveway, completely blocking it. For a minute, I thought it might be a delivery, but I wasn’t expecting anything.

After noticing it didn’t move and no one came out with a package, I walked outside. Never one to shy away from direct action, I went around to the driver’s side, tapped on the window, and a man opened the door.

I pointed at my driveway and calmly stated, ” You’re completely blocking my driveway.”

He replied, “I’m just on my phone.”

Still calm, I responded, “You can’t block a driveway. MOVE. NOW.”

And he did move but parked directly across the street and kept staring at my house while still on his stupid phone, now with the door open.

Once again, it might not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but sometimes I have ZERO impulse control plus I know the assistant police chief lives a few houses away, if needed. I only regret not getting the license plate number.

Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with people, do you? First of all, there are literally dozens of miles of sidewalk unencumbered by driveways, and secondly, how in any entitled universe does HIS phone call justify illegal parking? I am convinced that there are more and more selfish people who think the whole world revolves solely around them, and I’m not sure why or how to navigate these life experiences.

Another random event happened at TJ Maxx as I was standing in line to pay for a couple of cute and sparkly t-shirts for Angel Girl. A woman with a full cart pushed in front of me as if I was invisible. As if I didn’t exist! The hubris!

It took me a couple of seconds to fully realize the situation, like what just happened here, because first, she was behind me and then she wasn’t. I looked around; aghast, as the other customers in line also noticed and I’m sure wondered how I would handle the situation.

This time, I chalked it up to the full moon. I shook my head, turned around, got out of line, put my items back on the shelf, and left the store. It didn’t seem to be the right time to have a confrontation over something trivial and I assumed the universe intervened for a good reason, so I listened.

Finally… my city can’t seem to figure out what to do with an intersection on my street near an elementary school. For many years, there were two stop signs, then they put in a dangerous and ineffective roundabout. Last year they took away the $20,000 waste-of-money roundabout and put in a four-way-stop. I don’t know how much it cost to remove the roundabout and cement in four stop signs, but that’s how they spend our tax dollars around here…

Yesterday, I pulled up to one of the stop signs, preparing to turn left. I noticed two cars that completely ignored another of the four stop signs and turned right, not even bothering to slow down. Since no one was behind me and I was early for a dental appointment, I sat there and watched at least SIX other cars completely ignore that same stop sign. Stop means stop, right? A couple of them even glanced my way as they barrelled around the corner, exceeding the 25 mph speed limit.

What part of STOP don’t they understand? Are they the same people who don’t comprehend that NO means NO?

Photo by Mwabonje on Pexels.com

I decided it might be wise to spend the day at home, in the garden, where it’s slightly more peaceful, although there’s STILL construction noise from next door. I’m trying to tune it all out, but it’s permeating my soul in a not very positive way.

I’m exhorting myself to BREATHE and listen to the birds who’re busy building nests in the mulberry tree.

BREATHE, Princess Rosebud, BREATHE…

Another Happy Solar Return For The Original Angel Boy

…and an interesting and coincidental fact about (of course) Leon Russell.

Eleven years before there was even a hint of a thought about any baby, even one as wonderful as Angel Boy, Leon Russell released his self-titled debut solo album on March 23, 1970.

The album featured the classics: Delta Lady, Dixie Lullaby, A Song For You, Hummingbird, and Prince of Peace.

Leon played piano, guitar, bass guitar, and vocals. He was backed by an impressive list of friends, including Klaus Voormann, Mick Jagger, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Alan Spenner, Charlie Watts, Bill Wyman, Delaney Bramlett, Eric Clapton, Jim Horn, Bonnie Bramlett, Steve Winwood, Jim Gordon, Chris Stainton, B.J. Wilson, Joe Cocker, and Merry Clayton.

What was I doing on March 23, 1970? I was in high school and I’m sure I bought that album as soon as it came out, probably at The Wherehouse or Licorice Pizza, two cool record stores that no longer exist.

But on March 23, 1981, I debuted MY one and only release of a human–the aforementioned Angel Boy–after twenty-four hours of labor and an emergency C-section. I’ve blogged a lot about the birth: https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/03/23/i-fell-down-and-a-baby-popped-out/

He’s still the same person he’s always been; a voracious reader and writer, loves to garden, is kind to animals. He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and now that he’s a dad, he skateboards with the Angel Kids and finally realizes why I worried so much about his safety.

Could he really be all grown up? Nah, he’ll always be my Angel Boy and I’ll always be the proud Boy Mom.

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

Word of the Day: Excogitate (In/Out The Box)

EXCOGITATE: To think out; devise; invent. To study intently and carefully in order to grasp or comprehend fully.

TO THIINK IN OR THINK OUT…WHAT IS YOUR METHOD?

According to wiseGEEK, to think outside the box means means to “handle a situation or challenge in an unconventional manner. The origin of the phrase is believed to date back to the 1960s, and is often associated with a famous mental puzzle called The Nine Dots.”

I’ve had a lot of jobs over the years and I’ve found that no one really wanted me to think outside the box — independently, creatively, with imagination or compassion. I felt the overwhelming corporate mantra was to agree with everything and keep quiet.

And that leads us on to another outside the box obsession of mine…

I love boxes; cardboard boxes, wooden boxes, large and small boxes. Over the years, I’ve accumulated a massive collection. (I’m not a hoarder, I’m not a hoarder, I’m NOT a hoarder. Stop thinking that!)

But a box full of Bandit was my favorite. Our poor baby died of chronic renal failure. Wasn’t she soo beautiful? Sniff.

banditjuly10 003BOX
She’s speaking to me with her eyes, ” I don’t feel very good, Mommy.” Photo by Enchanted Seashells

Do you have a favorite box? What do you collect?

Snow Day!

This WordPress snow feature has always made my childsoul irrationally happy. For some reason, it was removed for a few years, but now it’s back, and it’s joyful!

I love snow…and it rhymes with crow!

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Robert Frost

Another Day, Another Injury, Another Life Lesson NOT Learned

I’m searching for whom or what I can blame for my latest stupid injury, like maybe Mercury Retrograde or the 11/11 portal?

I surely don’t think I would set an intention for — nor manifest — bodily damage, so I guess I’ll have to accept 100% of the blame for this one, which I knew was going to happen seconds before it did.

Here’s the scenario: I was planning to step off the deck, about a foot or so, onto some pavers. The wind had blown a small rug onto the pavers but at the same time that I chose NOT to bend down and remove it, I had the thought that there was a real and distinct possibility that I couldn’t see where I planned to step down, so I REALLY should take the two seconds to remove the rug — but I did not, and there I was, once again on the ground because I had not only awkwardly trapped my foot between two pavers that were obscured by that damn rug, but, as I fell, the edge of one of them hit me HARD at the exact location of my previous split-open shin, I then fell on my wrist (one I had broken a few years ago) and sprained the other ankle as it folded under me, an ungraceful vision, most definitely NOT a pretty sight; not princess-like in any way.

Ouch.

Covered in dirt and leaves, I sat there for a while like I always do, assessing the damage and shaking my head at my own stupidity.

The scar from before looks pretty angry and a bit bloody. There’s already a bump and a lump and is blooming some ugly bruises, but no broken bones this time, at least I hope not. I can live with the sprained wrist/ankle; at this point we’re old friends.

When will I ever learn?

Somebody once said “a definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” It’s been wrongly attributed to Einstein, but some people think it’s from Rita Mae Brown or a 1981 Narcotics Anonymous pamphlet.

Maybe insanity is not exactly my issue, but I hope one day I learn not to be so careless and impulsive about my personal safety.

Adult Regrets | Forever Young

I’m not talking about the dark night of the soul burdensome self-condemnation kind of regret, but I was randomly thinking about how sad it is that when we grow up, people stop asking us who we’re going to be for Halloween.

There was always a great deal of excitement around this conversation, “Who are you going to be for Halloween?” or “What are you going to wear?”— whether we dressed as a witch or a ghost or a princess or a superhero or a pirate. It’s a way to step outside of ourselves for a couple of hours, to escape into an innocent fantasy.

Some might claim I’ve never grown up and that’s simply not true. There’s a difference between being childISHly puerile and one-dimensional as opposed to the open-hearted ability to discover and appreciate simple, joyful, childLIKE pleasures in life. That’s a good thing, in my opinion.

For Halloween, I’m never scary. I usually dress like a princess (of course) but next week I’m going to be a ballerina. I hauled out my sewing machine and made a longish sparkly pink tutu with a tulle overlay, reminiscent of Les Sylphides.

I’ll adorn myself with pink ballerina earrings (an unexpected treasure from Goodwill), my toe shoes and a tiara, so I’m really going to be a princess ballerina.

Je ne regrette rien. No regrets. Forever young.

Who are YOU going to be for Halloween?

Note To Parents Who Pick Up Their Children From School

STOP ACTING LIKE ENTITLED A-HOLES!

This afternoon I took out the trash as school was being dismissed (I live near an elementary school), and at the same time, the postman drove up to deliver the mail.

Mostly blocking my driveway was a gigantic SUV which meant the postman literally had to stop in the middle of the street which is where I met him so he wouldn’t have to leave his vehicle.

The SUV’s back gate was open, as well as all the doors, apparently because the parents decided it was a good time to clean out their gas-guzzling monstrosity.

I said to them, “Why don’t you pull up? You’re blocking my driveway and you have plenty of room in front of you.”

The mom (I guess it was the mom) said, “We’re just here to pick up our kids from school”, as if that information was at all relevant or important to me. (Which it was NOT.)

I said, “How is that my concern? You still can’t block anyone’s driveway. Move your car.” (I’m assertive like that.😀)

And so they did. You could tell they thought about arguing with me and/or defying my directive, but the postman was a witness, so they grudgingly pulled up a few feet.

But it begs the bigger question about entitlement, consideration, and basic courtesy. No wonder the kids in my town feel they can recklessly — and without regard for anyone else–ride their stupid ebikes in the middle of the street defying all traffic and safety rules when they have annoying parents like this who feel so narcissistically privileged that they’re entitled to encroach on one’s property and then don the victim cape when they’re told to move. How RUDE!

There’s lots of conversations lately about entitled people. Entitled people believe they are inherently deserving of special treatment without considering others.

For example, why should I, a complete stranger, care one iota about whether they’re picking up their kids from school as if that should somehow ameliorate or excuse the action of blocking MY driveway? Not my kids, not my problem, especially when they could have simply checked before they stopped and pulled up a few more feet. They had plenty of room.

In fact, a vehicle cannot legally park directly in front of or across someone’s driveway in California, as it is a violation of California Vehicle Code 22500. One can contact local parking enforcement or the police department to have the vehicle ticketed and towed at the owner’s expense. 

I have no patience for these types of selfish people who think the world revolves around them in their egocentric illusion balloon. An egocentric illusion refers to the psychological bias where individuals perceive the world, their internal states, and their actions from a self-centered perspective.

I was more than happy to burst that balloon for them. Perhaps they’ll be more considerate in the future, wherever they park, hopefully not here. Maybe I’ll get a sign like this if it happens again.

Photo from Google. Not my house, but same situation.

Stop acting like entitled a-holes and model decent behavior to your children! Is that too much to ask?

Earworm, Courtesy of Leon Russell

Because both of the Angel Kids’ eyes literally roll back in their heads when I make them listen to Leon Russell music, I found a slightly obscure song called “Too Much Monkey Business”. It’s more spoken than sung, like a precursor to rap music, and was written by Chuck Berry in 1956.

I played it and the Angels started singing along, as it’s a very catchy tune. I’d call out “How much monkey business” and they’d respond, “Too much monkey business!”

This song is totally earworm-worthy because they couldn’t stop singing it to themselves. All day long, during breakfast and helping to organize their books so we could donate some, I heard them quietly repeat “too much monkey business”, or “too much for me to be involved in.”

I said, “Cool song, huh?” as I planned my final move in my neverending quest to make them love Leon as much as I do.

When we sat on the sofa together after dinner playing card games, I asked Siri to play “Too Much Monkey Business” by Leon Russell and AB said, “Wait, that was LEON? It didn’t sound like him!” I replied, “That was my little joke. You had no idea you were singing one of his songs hahahahaha!”

Too late to stop it from happening; the lyrics are firmly embedded in their brains. They changed the words to: “How much Grandma business?” and “Too much Grandma business.”

They grudgingly agreed it was GOOD but asked me to pleasepleaseplease stop dancing because I was embarrassing them. I can only imagine the many ways I’ll be an embarrassment when they’re teenagers. It’s a rite of passage. They can ask their dad for confirmation.

Those kids are uber funny but I won. They’re now listening to and appreciating the Master of Space and Time–in spite of themselves. My work here is done.

Runnin’ to and fro, hard workin’ at the mill
Never failed in the mail, yet come a rotten bill
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Salesman talking to me tryin’ to run me up a creek
Say, “You can buy it, go on, try it, you can pay me next week” ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Blonde-haired, good lookin’ tryin’ to get me hooked
Want me to marry, get a home, settle down, write a book, ha
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Same thing every day, gettin’ up, goin’ to school
No need to be complainin’, my objections overruled, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Payphone, somethin’ wrong, dime gone, will mail
I ought to sue the operator for tellin’ me a tale, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

I been to Yokohama, been fightin’ in the war
Army bunk, army chow, army clothes, army car, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Workin’ in the fillin’ station, too many tasks
Wipe the windows, check the tires, check the oil, dollar gas, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
I don’t want your botheration, get away, leave me be

Too much monkey business for me

Evolution of The Mom Hug

I’m at #3 with Angel Boy, #2 with Angel Girl.

I remember that the original Angel Boy was about fourteen years old when he entered the final stage, taller than me. Now I have to get on my tiptoes to hug him and HE bends down to me.

In my mind, he’s still and forever #1 or #2, so it doesn’t seem right that the roles have reversed, and it won’t be long before the Angel Kids will also be taller than me, because mostly everyone else is.

I guess that’s why they call me Little Grandma.

**I found this on Pinterest, but credit goes to artist Giselle Dekel.**