Stalin died in agony. I feel pretty bad about that, but there really wasn’t anything I could have done, so at least I don’t have “Oh, man, if only I had…” on my mind. Ken is going to C’ville by himself tomorrow, so I’ll get the office to myself. Woohoo. It was weird because as I was driving to work this morning, something ran out in front of the semi ahead of me. It was bigger than a mouse but smaller than a squirrel. A ground squirrel maybe? At first I though, maybe it’s just a leaf, but then the…
Stalin, my mouse, died today. I won’t go into detail. It wasn’t pleasant for me, and I doubt much of anyone would enjoy reading about it. My last ditch efforts to save him were in vain. When I’d done all I knew to do, I laid him back in his cage. He didn’t move all day. Selecting a spade from the Myer’s shed, I dug a hole beneath their apple tree. It may sound like a romantic place, but it turned out to be a rather stupid choice, too many roots in the way. “Well, Bud,” I said through a…
I was typing up a computer entry for a book card yesterday when I stopped and started staring off into space. It’s kinda scary when I do that because I’ll come back a few minutes later, look at the screen, look at what I was doing, and think, where the heck did I go? I’ve done this since I was 6 at least. That’s when daydreaming got to be noticeable, I suppose. When teachers would pass me and I’d be staring, comotose like into a wall. When I was out in Colorado for a week, I found myself doing this…
Cara manned a booth from the Leadership Institute at a home school convention here in Richmond Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I came home early on Friday from work because Ken needed me to Fed-ex something. Cara called soon after I got home. I agreed to meet her at her hotel in Midtown. We went out to eat at the Olive Garden at the YLS’s expense. After I put a guilt trip on her about the tip she left, we drove “in search of a bar” but ended up at Books-a-million instead. Somehow we ended up in the art section. “Dali!”…
“Are you a mouse?” I looked up from where I was silently thumbing through index cards in a card catalog drawer and pulling author/book cards. Florence was standing there addressing me, “You’re so quiet! Cough or something once in a while. Get up andmove around! Anything to let us know you’re there.” She paused and put her hand on my shoulder then asked, “ARE you there” I answered quietly. “No.” When I’m not acting loud and raucous, I do tend to be unobtrusive, especially in new situations. I’ve entered the house, made my way around, and eventually entered whatever room…