In the event of an intruder...

One of the things I've always wondered is how the cats would react if someone broke in. Would they saunter up to the guy, meowing for attention? Or would they run and hide?

Last night I was having a dream that someone wanted me to follow her because she wanted to show me something she had that was just like mine. I followed her to a wall where she pressed a blue button. "See?" she said, "That sounds just like your door buzzer."

"Oh, you're right!" I exclaimed. "It does!"

"No, that is your door buzzer," she said. "Wake up!"

I sat bolt upright in bed, trying to decide if the buzz I'd heard really was my door buzzer or if it was part of the dream. I had just decided that it was a dream and that I should go back to sleep when my buzzer gave a long bleat. I looked at the clock - two AM - and then scrambled for my glasses and robe. Quickly, I ran downstairs.

While I was dressing and getting downstairs the buzzer went off twice more, short blips as if the guy was pressing hitting my button by accident while pressing someone else's. I looked through my peephole but didn't see anyone in the hall. My buzzer kept going off and I could hear my neighbor shouting through the wall.

"What the hell do you want?" my neighbor asked.

"Lemme in man, lemme in," said the voice through the intercom. He sounded drunk. My buzzer kept going off.

While I was keeping an eye on the peephole Cider walked up behind me and sat down, eyeing the door. I was surprised since normally she hates the sound of the door buzzer and runs away whenever it goes off.

Things calmed down for a moment and I walked away from the door, thinking about going back to bed, when Cider suddenly stood up and murmured. I went back to the peephole and saw what Cider had heard...one of my neighbors had come up and was opening the hall door, looking for whoever was outside in the lobby. I watched through my peephole. He left, unable to find the guy who had been ringing our buzzers.

At that point Cider turned around and walked back upstairs. I wanted to stay downstairs for awhile longer - although I felt the guy wasn't a serial killer or anything, I know that a belligerent drunk and a woman living alone are rarely a good combination - but instead followed her to bed.

I kept a light on and slept fitfully until 3 AM when I heard the hall door open. Someone walked up to my door. I heard some rustling and clicking. I looked over at Cider, who didn't twitch an ear. For the second time that night I grabbed my glasses and robe and ran downstairs. When I looked through my peephole I didn't see anyone, but then I realized that if he heard me running up to the door maybe he ducked below the level of the peephole. I dropped down to the floor to see if I could see anything through the crack at the bottom of the door.

I did see something.

My newspaper. Sheepishly, I went back to bed.

Now, I'm not saying that Cider would defend me to the death or anything like that. I'm not sure if she would even hiss at an intruder. But it's interesting, and slightly reassuring, that she seems to know when something's up and should be investigated.

Oh, and where was Rusty during all of this?

Asleep.

Oh well. I guess I can count on one of my cats to be my burglar alarm.

Awesome day!

Sometimes it seems to me that the universe runs like a machine. Sometimes it runs like an old car engine, sputtering and stopping and lurching. Sometimes, like today, it runs like the well-oiled cogs on a clock, with everything ticking into place perfectly.

I'm writing this during my lunch so I can email it to myself and post it later, and let me tell you, it's been a fantastic morning. Despite the snow I was able to make good time on my commute, and even had time to stop and grab some donuts to make up for the breakfast I skipped. Before school started a teacher came into my room to vent, and the gossip I learned was the best type - interesting, but ultimately having nothing to do with me and having no potential to complicate my life. I also learned that in one of my students' recent incidents with the police* she's being viewed as a victim in the whole mess rather than a perpetrator, which means that she won't get in as much trouble.

During second period I went on a paperwork chase, which was kind of a concern. I'd caught a paperwork mistake, and could have gotten into quite a bit of trouble if the mistake was my fault. Luckily when I looked back in the files I saw that it was a mistake that was made back in 2002, and I was the first person who caught it. It'll take a bunch of paperwork to correct, but it's not my problem!

As I emerged triumphant from the Guidance Office I looked out the window and saw a welcome sight.

Ducks!

The ducks are back in the courtyard! Last year I wrote about a pair of ducks who nest in the courtyard every year. Every year they all died until last year, when a concerned teacher began setting out food and water for them. Amazingly, all the ducklings survived. Now the pair is back for another year. I can't wait until they have their eggs.

It's been a good morning and I'm sure it'll be an easy afternoon. Plus next week is Spring Break.

The clockwork days are so very nice.

EDIT: I also finished a Sudoku puzzle by myself. It was out of the newspaper. And Fridays are when they have the hard puzzles! I was so proud that I cut it out and saved it. What an awesome day.






* Yes, I have more than one student who is experiencing an incident that required police involvement. Welcome to the joys of public education.

Good & Bad

Today I sat at my desk staring numbly ahead.

It hasn't been a good two weeks, I thought.

Well, actually it's been good and bad. Erica's wedding and my engagement to Mike have been sources of joy, but my life lately has proven that trouble always comes in threes. Last week it was Liz's harrassment, this week it was an incident involving one of my students and the police, and today the third thing came.

One of my students died.

Actually, it's old news. I found out because one of my other students came to me and I said, "Wow, Juan hasn't been in school for awhile. Is he still in the hospital?"

My student's eyes widened. "Oh, miss, they must not have told you," he said quietly. "Juan passed away."

I'm not sure when it happened but I can only assume that it was last week when I was absent. In a school as big as this one, news takes awhile to go around.

Knowing that he passed awhile ago feels strange. Normally when you hear someone has died it's right after the event. It feels like standing in a lake and getting hit by a wave...a sudden crash, the pain of impact, and then it recedes as suddenly as it came leaving you standing alone, still stinging. This feels like visiting a cornfield in October after they've harvested...just dark and empty with the knowledge that you missed the chaos. I know I'm explaining it badly, but that's the only way I can describe it.

Anyway, this is the third bout of trouble so I hope it's finished for now.

Bad Day Cure

Today was a horriffic day. I'm moody, my back is killing me, and work was awful. By the end of the day all I wanted was a sponge cake on my right side, a tub of Cool Whip on my left side, and a spoon. Just alternate, baby.

But, I didn't.

I only had two pieces of cake instead of the whole thing.

I'm a model of restraint, I tell you.

Hair

On Saturday I was in my friend Erica's wedding. It was beautiful and lovely and a bunch more adjectives I can't quite think of, and there weren't any huge screw-ups. For the wedding she wanted all of her bridesmaids to have their hair put up, so when I plunked down in the salon chair and the woman asked me what I was "envisioning," I said simply, "Erica wants it up."

"Up in curls? Up in waves? Up with straight bits coming down?"

"Erica said up," I said stubbornly.

"What about the back?" the woman asked. "Would you like some bits coming down?"

"Erica said up," I said, not caring if I was making her job tougher, and not caring about the result either.

"What about the front?" she asked me. "Would you like some face-framing strands?"

I pondered. "Erica said that's okay," I replied.

So she got to work, and an hour later it was up. Up with liberal use of a curling iron, massive amounts of spray, a sprinkling of glitter glued on, and fifty-nine - count 'em fifty-nine - bobby pins. My head ached by the end of the night, and my scalp was throbbing from where my hair had been pulled and pins had been scraped across. My hair is perfectly straight, very fine, and, in her words, "slippery" - very, very smooth. It took a lot to get it to stay up all night.

This has motivated me to grow out my hair. Later on when Mike asked if I would keep it the length I had grown it out for the wedding instead of cutting it back into its usual bob I said I would. I'd like my hair up at my wedding, but not up like that.

Unfortunately, this leaves me with a year of watching my hair get progressively longer. I have no idea about hair. That's why I bobbed it in the first place. I decided that my vivid color would make up for a simple haircut, and just washed and blow-dried it daily. I have no idea how to style hair.

Last night I went to Barnes & Noble to search for a hair manual. I want a real basic one, one with arrows showing where your hands should go, and pictures not only of the products you should be using but the amounts to use as well. I got a hair magazine as well as a bridal magazine (now that I know what I don't want my hair to be like, I need to figure out how I do want it), but no matter how hard I searched I couldn't find any books on how to do hair.

So if anyone knows of any books or websites that could help me out, I'd be appreciative. Otherwise I'll just wind up keeping my hair in a fifty-nine pin ponytail for the next twelve months.

Individuality

Sometimes kids are weird. Sometimes it's more than just weirdness.

It's a cute little commercial with a good message.