- Heading to Rust Belt Town today to celebrate my grandmother's 89th birthday. We're happy to do this, but could it not have been planned before Wednesday? This is what drives me and Tripper CRAZY about my family.
- Writing tests are finished, and I'm pretty happy with how my kids worked. I still feel that there should be more than 4% of the kids in the whole state who are considered advanced, but it's not up to me.
- The rumor mill is busy in Dogpatch, especially in the Dogpatch Area School District: Will Principal Stan be chosen for second in command? If so, who will head Dogpatch Area Middle School? I'd like a principal who has no goals, that's what I'd like, I would. Stan has done great things, and I'm tired now. I just want to teach.
- If my assistant principal, Dr. King, is appointed, I may have to kill myself. She's an amazing woman, 70 years old with no plans to retire. She also volunteers as a hospice chaplain and, as a Red Cross disaster worker, goes out in the middle of the night to assist local firefighers. We think she has Asperger's Syndrome. She would give a practice assessment ever damn day if she found research to support it.
- I had yet another bat encounter Thursday night. We had the day off from school due to power outages and gale-force winds, but things had died down by midafternoon, when the Senora and I headed to the Club. After a short shift there, she deposited me home, where I planned to enjoy the crock-potted Hawaiian Chicken that awaited me. As I walked into the dining room carrying my supper, I saw what looked to be a bird rising in flight past my living room curtains. I grabbed the phone and my food, then stepped onto the sunporch and called Tripper, who was on his way home. "It's probably a bat," he said tiredly. "Stay in there and see where he goes." "Are you kidding me??" I asked. (Although I have, indeed, become braver in these matters, I was not going to stay in the house when Someone Else would soon be home to take care of the matter.) When Trip got home, he looked around and couldn't find the little fucker. He ate his supper, then went upstairs to look around. While he did that, I grabbed the MagLite and poked around downstairs again, and found said fucker nestled behind the couch. I called Tripper, who finished the task.
- This is possibly the 15th bat I've had to deal with in my life, directly or indirectly-- meaning they were in my home and Trip did what needed to be done. I guess it's better than dealing with wolverines, but still.
- We're not surprised that a bat turned up. We had a freakishly warm day or two, and Trip has been working in our bedroom-- ripping the plaster down to the lath. It's quite possible we've disturbed their hidey-hole. It's what you get for living in a hundred-year-old house.
- Now we're kind of living like refugees-- our bedroom furniture scattered about the upstairs, crammed into nooks and crannies. It'll all be worth it, though.
# posted by Chrissy Snow @ 2/14/2009 06:12:00 AM
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