Friday, July 25, 2014

Postcards: Homocidal Cat

     This summer, we have been forced to come to grips with the possibility that our cat is either a homicidal murderer, or a mob boss.

      It has been a weird summer for wild life, as in: Where Is The Wild Life? Usually in the Spring the several fox dens in our neighborhood are alive with moms and babies dashing across the street with their breakfast in their mouths. Our neighbors (Vesper's House) had a den in their back yard for years. We could not figure out why our cats were not targeted by the fox mom and babies every spring, until we became aware that one of our cats was a bird killer. And she would leave the bird at our back door, clearly to let us see how great a hunter she is, but also to leave it for the foxes to retrieve later in the evening. Like clockwork, good morning, dead bird. Good evening, bird gone. We finally figured the cat was catching birds for the foxes (fox?), and in return the fox(es) were leaving our cats alone. Brilliant strategy!
      However this year, there are no fox. Foxes? Fox-I. Fox. None. Zero. It's like they just vaporized. And when the predators disappear, the prey multiply. And multiply. Like rabbits. Because they are, in fact, rabbits.
       We are being over run by bunnies.
       I have never seen so many rabbits up here in my life.
       It isn't just the disappearance of the foxes. Fox? Fox-I. The coyotes are scarce as well this year. I have heard them maybe twice this summer. Usually I hear them nightly, jabbering and laughing their way up the street. Even if they aren't actually dancing up the street, the way sound bounces up
here it sounds like that is where they are. But not this year. Where are the coyotes?
        I dunno. I'm not here to answer those questions. If anyone reading this figures it out you can let me know.
        The point is the lack of predators and increased prey seems to have whetted the appetite of our felines.
         The first dead rabbit---a small one---was found on the back porch. Headless. We thought maybe the cat killed it and something else ate the head.
         The second dead rabbit---full sized adult---was found on the side porch. Also headless. Genoa and Harper began speculating how quickly the flies could eat a head. Maybe the flies ate the head, they said out loud to themselves, while Jim and I exchanged glances.
          The third dead rabbit---medium sized---was found yesterday in the yard. Also headless.
          At this point we have to ask ourselves what it is that our cat is trying to tell us.
          Is she simply demonstrating her vast hunting skills now that there are more rabbits available to hunt? Dropping them around the perimeter of the house to make sure we appreciate her trophies?
          Or is she the boss of an intense Kitty Crime Syndicate with whom we have somehow become sideways, and these decapitated hoppers are being left as a warning?
           We weren't sure which of the four cats was the killer, but we had our suspicions. She is all black with a tiny little white mark on her chest. A white tie. Only mobsters wear white ties. My suspicions were cinched today when I let her in and she brushed past me chewing on a cigar.
          How am I to figure out what we have done to offend the syndicate? The cat does not have opposable thumbs, she can't even scrawl the most minimal of hints. I'm left to my own devices, as I try to make eye contact and open tuna. "What'd we do?"
          She just looks at me with her swimming yellow eyes, bored. Laughing inside. I may never know...and because of my own inability to communicate with felines, innocent bunnies are being slaughtered.
          

     

Thursday, July 24, 2014

July Postcards-24 July

    These are not even remotely in order. Just sayin'.

 24 July 2014
     After a frustrating day at school in JULY, with no air conditioning, wrestling the light issue which should have been fixed ALREADY and is now pushing my fall show out of the picture...I decided to be the kid who sits at the top of the driveway on my white, Walmart chair with the American Flag sticker, watching my nearly dead, crippled dog enjoy the evening air and slurp a Redhook.

    As I did, my 25 month old, pantless neighbor shouted "HI" from her balcony. Her name is Vesper. She is frequently pantless, which is familiar to me as my children were also, frequently, pantless.
    "Hi Vesper! How are you?
     She extolled a monologue filled with semi-familiar words interspersed with Vesper trying to climb the balcony.
       I asked her how old she is now. She replied "three".
       I know for a fact she is a liar.
      "Where's Jim?" she asked. She loves Jim. Kids and cats love Jim.
       "He is paying bills."""
       She looks at Sundown (who is a dog) "Where's kitty?"
       "I dunno."
        "I have a cayo. A yayo cayo."
        "Yes," I agree, smiling at the orange crayon she is waving at me. "It's orange, I think."
        "Yayo. Yayo cayo."
        At that time, Sock emerged. Sock is, in fact, a feline.
        "Kitty!"
        "Yes, that is Sock."
         "Sock," she sings as she continues to try to climb the balcony. "Where's Hapa?"
        "Harper went to the store."
        "LOOK!" she points at Sock. "Cock!"
        "Yep. That's Sock."
        "Cock! Cock!"
         I continue to drink my beer as the naked two year old yells "cock" from her balcony in my general direction.
         Cleary I am the coolest kid on the block.
 
 
             

Thursday, July 3, 2014

   WEDS        I have said it repeatedly and I have said it loudly, there are only two reasons to run:
             1. Someone is chasing you.
             2. Eric Pung has cancer.
          Neither of these are true today, yet I just ran. For the first time in six years. Nobody chasing me. Nobody has cancer. Well, people have cancer, but Eric does not have cancer.
           I am officially that bored.
           Or something.
           Mostly I'm home without a car. I own a car, but Harper takes it every day because she has friends and places to go. Genoa has her own car. Jim has his car which he takes to work.
            I have a motorcycle, but the battery is dead and I can't scrape the money together to get it fixed. I can ride Jim's Harley, but that would require putting on pants. I don't so much want to put on pants.
            So after a week and a half of being home, without wheels, I must have snapped.
            I went out for my daily constitutional, however they are fixing the water main down the street. I do not wish to walk past the guys fixing the water main. It's a weird thing I have. I am too old and over myself to think I will be subjected to cat calls, I just do not want to walk past them. That's all. the fewer humans I have to engage the better off we all are. So. The only option is to schlep around open space for an hour.
           Which is fine, I suppose. It reminds me that "the road less travelled" is less travelled because it is poorly maintained and there are snakes. Wear hiking shoes and carry something more threatening than your iPhone on shuffle.
            So Immma schleppy up and down hills and what not. Denver is foggy from up here today. I take photos that are inscrutable and mean nothing to anyone except for me. It's kinda hot, but not terribly.
            The last mile or so is downhill, and the heat must have gotten to me, but I ran it. I just...ran.
             Nobody was chasing me.
             Well, okay, "run" is a strong word. I would say "jog". Or "fast paced galumphing". Some might even call it "stumbling". But to my bones and knees, it feels like running. So there's that.

              My iPod on shuffle was a fun game. It went from Beastie Boys to Wicked to Steve Martin to AC/DC to Spamalot and I started laughing out loud, remembering that Tina Fey warns us to never let anyone put your iPod on "shuffle" because no matter what, the lame songs will play and everyone will know who you really are. Nobody heard me laughing, because I was in open space, away from people. The grass is really tall, and many bugs buzzed at me, but one can laugh like a loon in open space and be unafraid of judgment. So I hiked and laughed and sang along with Steve Martin "Athiests ain't got no songs!" I love Steve Martin. I wore white to his concert last summer, hoping he would marry me. He did not.
              But I digress.
              Which is a lot of what happened this afternoon. Schlepping and stomping and galumphing and running freed up my mind and I thought about a cornucopia of unrelated things of interest to no one but me.
_____
THURS
         So the hike today, a bit shorter. And no running. A) It's hotter than yesterday and B) I am older today than I was yesterday. I had hoped walking for two days in the heat would help me drop 20 pounds by tomorrow.
         iPhone on random revealed more musicals than I knew I had.
         And Christmas music, which I acquiesced to listen to since it's 96 degrees out. And it's Bob and Doug McKenzie, it's ok that it's not actually Christmas. They are still funny in July.
          And Talking Heads. Asking "How did I get here?" and since it was hot and my mind was melting, I pondered that question.
           I just finished 10 years at LHS. Ten years, one building. I would have to check, but I'm pretty sure I've never done that anywhere. B. Dalton lasted ten years, but that was Littleton to Green Mountain to Baybrook to Houston. So not in one building.
           I had decided after only a year of subbing that I needed to teach. Turns out I'm good at it. But How to apply? No teaching license. Only a B.A. Two children. Somehow I fumbled my way to the CDE website (which I knew existed, I had to get a sub license. I am prone to hyperbole in my storytelling.) Anyway, located open jobs. "Littleton High School, part time Drama Teacher. Tech expertise preferred but not required." Well, that's not me. Another school also had a listing, and they did not care about tech. However their application was inaccessible without magic Teacher Certification Numbers or computer know-how. LHS' could be downloaded and printed. I filled it out with a bic pen. I mailed it, in an envelope, with a stamp.
           About two weeks later, I received a call for an interview.
           I over shot the main entrance and parked by the cafeteria, then weirdly entered by the Forum door tucked away on the side of the building. An omen of things to come.
           I was interviewed by the current teacher, John Kron, and the Asst Principal, also a John. They were both weird, nobody really asked me any tech questions, it seemed I had been invited to watch them tell inside jokes to one another. They asked what musicals I would do and I said HAIR and Little Shop of Horrors and The Pirates of Penzance, because those are the only musicals I like. They made naked jokes about HAIR.  Kron showed me around and acted like I was hired. I left.
           Kron called the next day and said "We'd love it if you would start driving to LHS to teach theatre! There is just one formality, the principal wants to meet you."
           Ummm..."meet" me? Shouldn't he decide if I'm hired or not?
           Also, shouldn't someone address the fact that I am not certified?
           So I return, wearing the same skirt I wore at the first interview because I am superstitious. The principal seemed unimpressed with me, my skirt, my resume or my presence in his office. He acted like I had the job and he was just making sure I wasn't a child molester. It was fine, I was jazzed to teach part time theatre and it was my first interview with a principal. I had nothing to compare it to.
           The principal's phone rang half way through our "interview". He answered it because I am that important and nobody holds calls while I'm present. I insist that it be that way. I sat quietly and waited for him to finish.
           He put the phone down, looked at me and said "Do you want to work full time instead? A part time lang arts position just opened. You could teach both."
            I Am Not Lying.
            That's how I got here.
            I was hired at LHS because I am not computer savvy enough to figure out the other applications. I loved them for that.
            And now, 10 years later, they think we're a STEM school but all my lights have melted in the theatre. Which everyone should have seen coming when they hired me! 
            See? I got that going for me.