Tossing the Beaver.

So anyway, I have an item to cross off the old bucket list you guys. It may not be the most refined of tasks to do before I die, but nonetheless, it can't be overlooked. Bucket list is a bucket list. See, what happened is that I poked a dead thing with a stick. A real live dead thing: a beaver, in fact. Poking a dead thing with a stick is one of those rights of passage that just never happened to me. And now I had my chance, it had washed up on the beach at my brother, *Ree and his lovely wife, *Joyston's beautiful swimming spot on the river that runs through their property. Oh sure, I'd consumed a couplefew wobbly pops before hand, but that's not important. A little cider is good for mostly everyone. Fruit group.

It started when my brother exclaimed ever so happily that he had, in fact, spotted the poor beast, belly up on some rocks upstream from the swimming area. *squeaaaaal* The conversation in my head went as follows:


Self: Don't blow this, Self... this is your chance... This is really happening!!1!
Self: Yes, we've been waiting for an opportunity like this all of our life...
Self: Yep, it hasn't even been dead long- no flies.....
Self: AND you're surrounded by family witnesses, so nobody can say that you didn't poke a dead beaver with a stick!
Self: It's true, Self, and look- A wiener stick!
Self: Totally! That's totally a wiener stick! Dude, the stars are all aligning for us!
Self: Let's do this thang!
Self: Don't say, "thang" it sounds so dumb.
Self: Well I only said it to us
Self: Fine, but mayhap it shall be the last time we say, "thang"
Self: Fine... Wait! someone else is going up to it.... Quick! Quick! Push them over so you can poke it first!!
Out loud: OUTTA MY WAY, I HAVE A STICK AND I MEAN TO POKE SOME DEAD BEAVER WITH IT!
Brother: We heard everything you just said to yourself, Michelle.
Self: HOLY. CRAP. He can read our thoughts, Self.
Self: Shhhhhh
Brother: You're still talking out loud.
Self: That's amazing, Ree! Can you also tell the future?

WELL I gave that beaver 3 good pokes with that stick. It was pretty satisfying, you guys. I got all my pokes in and high fived Neil. I felt great. I'd poked a dead thing with a stick before the age of (inaudible). Everyone was pretty impressed, I think... except Joyston. She had to steal my bucket list thunder. She raised the bar. She picked it up with her bare hands, gave it a discus champion whirl and tossed it, in all its dead, stinky, yellow toothed beaver glory toward us. WELL. I was impressed and maybe a little jealous since I've never tossed a dead thing at anyone before (except maybe a fish, but that doesn't count. Dead fish are practically everywhere. Big hairy deal). I hadn't even thought of putting, "Throw a dead thing at your relatives" on my bucket list. Good thing I carry a pen.

See? Beaver. Toss.

Well Joyston missed everyone, but she's diligent. Nobody wants a dead beaver secreting its death upstream from their swimmin' hole. Kids play there, after all. You have to be practical. So naturally she picked it up by the leg as my brother backed up the trailer so that he could drive it away to a better final resting place (downstream near that bear we saw). She missed again, but our brave Joyston knew she had to carry on. So she picked that beaver up, gave it a good swing and flopped it into the trailer bed. SHLUCK, is the sound that made. Why would you pick it up and place it in the trailer, when you have a perfectly good opportunity to perfect your dead beaver tossing aim from 10 feet? You never know when that kind of skill will come in handy. Weddings, boring family reunions, geek shows..... You never know what life is going to throw your way. No, I didn't mean to make that pun. Yes, I'm sorry.

I want you to stop, take a cleansing breath now, think of a fresh, clean spring day. Now try to think of the smell of laundered sheets, directly from the clothesline, baking bread and strawberry soap. Are you good? K, now imagine the aroma. Really imagine what a dead beaver, which has been soaking in the muddy river for a while might smell like after being flung around a beach. Of course beavers, as I'm sure most of you know if you've ever been to the otter exhibit at your local zoo, already smell like fishy, wet dogs. Dead ones are especially aromatic. My other sister in law, um... *Fonda and I had to struggle with laughing and gagging simultaneously.

It was quite an experience. Not everyone can get tickets to see a Joyston Beaver show (what.). Kudos to her for doing what had to be done, but also kudos to me for poking at it with a stick you guys. Kudos to ME.

*names changed to protect their identities