Drama and my Mama

It's not what you think. My Mom and I get a long great. However, we both have had a fair amount of drama in our lives. And our drama is always entertaining to the outside world. Sometimes I think that our lives are meant to be entertainment for others so God can keep up mankind's spirits and so on and so forth. In recent history, my poor Mama has had mower drama, dog drama, grandkid drama, and daughter drama (that would be my sister of course since I am a perfect child). Her most recent drama has been rat. Yes, you heard me correctly rat. They are having a rat plague at their house.



My parents live on what I like to call the "frontier". They reside outside a little town in Oklahoma called Walters which is about 5 miles past where Jesus lost his sandals. They have had many plagues at their house. I think they are actually experiencing the plagues described in the book of Revelation, but my Daddy says I am exaggerating. They have had the grasshopper plague where a swarm of grasshoppers ate an entire tree in one day. They have had the cricket plague several times which is really creepy because the crickets somehow make there way into every light fixture of their house and die. They have had the stink bug plague which actually closed down the town library one morning while my poor mother carried out the task of disposing of thousands of stink bug bodies that died there the night before. Up until now, the scariest plague they had was the scorpion plague where my very pregnant sister was attacked while leisurely watching T.V. on their sofa. I very reluctantly visited them that summer and had a run in with one myself that required some therapy. If you are familiar with my earlier post on my bug phobia, you would understand why. At any rate, this year the plagues have hit a new high. They are dealing with rats. In their garage. Yes, rats are living in their garage. Not the cute rats you see at the pet store, but the giant rats that are like the ones in the movie Princess Bride. And they are living in their garage. My mother has assured me that they do not live in their house. She swears that if the rats move in she is moving out. Life on the frontier will be over at that point.



When they first noticed the problem in the garage, they set out mice traps. They assumed that they had a few mice which was no big deal out on the frontier and the traps would solve the problem. The rats ate the bait and destroyed the traps. My poor Mother was beside herself. These "mice" were a force to be reckoned with. So she called the town vet(somehow in her mind he would be the one to call) and her told her to buy rat traps. This was the moment when she realized there were actually rats living in the garage. Again, she was beside herself. How could they have rats?! Moreover, how could she go to the store in her small, tightly-knitted town and buy rat traps?! In no time at all, it would be all over town that the Adkison's had rats! But living with the rats in the garage was worse than the rumors of the rats in the garage so she donned her Jackie O sunglasses and scarf and bravely went to town to buy the traps.



After the rat trap purchase, I got a series of e-mails over the next few weeks that described their latest body count. I also learned they were reusing the traps which was totally disgusting in my mind. I offered to send what ever amount of money was needed so no one had to touch rat bodies but they declined my offer. My Daddy explained to me that it was okay for him to dispose of the dead rat and reuse the trap and I was being overly concerned. Apparently, life on the frontier is altering their ability to think rationally. I have also had many conversations with my Mother about our upcoming visit and the rat plague's interference. I can deal with a grasshopper or a cricket in the light fixture. But rats in the garage will defiantly give me nightmares and unless we negotiated what portion of my therapy bill they were willing to pay, our trip must be postponed indefinitely. Since that conversation, she had called me several times and giving me optimistic news regarding their success in riding the garage of the rats. I have agreed to go through with the trip, but I am still very apprehensive. If you don't hear from me after thanksgiving, you will know that I am being held hostage by rats out on the frontier. Thanks for your prayers.