Snakes in a Dash: The Riveting Sequel to Snakes on a Plane. Still starring Samuel L. Jackson

Soooooooooooooooooo, I have a story. It's a true story. Some of you may have gotten wind of it already. But it's one of the most bizarre things that has ever happened to me, soooooo I'm sharing it with my blog audience of about 5.5 people.

Yesterday morning I woke up, after having some weird dreams, and got dressed in my sister's fiance's CATS shorts and my Arizona hoodie. It was Jersey Day at school, and that's the best I could do. On my way out of the house, I grabbed Paris, my snake, who had been snoozing at home after eating the biggest mouse ever two days earlier. I wrapped her around my neck and my roommate/fellow teacher were off to school in my Volvo.

As I was driving, Paris began to slither down my arm, toward the steering wheel. Before I could really stop her, she wrapped herself around it a few times, then turned back to look at me, feeling rather self-satisfied. I warned her that it might be a bad idea to be there, but she didn't listen. She hardly ever does. Things didn't get bad for her until I had to crank the steering wheel around to pull into the school parking lot and park. As I was doing that, her head got bumped a few times and I could see she was getting mad, but was too dumb or distracted to do anything about it.

I parked and went to grab her, but realized that in her irritation, Paris had decided to retreat to a less bumpy place, namely, down the back of my steering column. I didn't even know there was a hole, but she found it, and, to paraphrase my roommate, gave us the middle finger as she disappeared into my dashboard. I panicked, a little.

I rummaged around in the back of my car until I found the special screwdriver that loosened the screws that keep my dash together. I undid the bottom panel in time to see Paris's tail disappearing into a hole I could not reach into. Now I really started to panic, but it was time for school to start. My snake was in my dashboard and I had no idea how to get her out.

I taught the whole day in a paranoid haze, feeling like a mother whose child has gone missing. I didn't tell my students, because I knew they would lose it and want to spend all of their class time pulling apart my car, piece by piece. So I soldiered on, worrying and fighting back tears.

In the afternoon, one of the guys who works as a janitor at Roseland came by and said he heard I had a 'dashboard problem'. I tossed him my keys without even saying anything back and he and the other janitor, both of whom are BIG fans of Paris, proceeded to disassemble my dash. There are positives to working in a sketchy black neighborhood :) They also showed me how easily my radio pops out of my dash. Good to know, in case I need to steal it.

But, despite all their work, my snake was nowhere in sight. I decided to drive home, despite being unsure whether driving might squish, twist, or otherwise mangle my missing pet. I parked my car, ran an extension cord out to it, and plugged in a heating pad, defrosted a mouse, plugged in a lamp, and crawled under my steering wheel to do some more looking.

On my back, prone, with one arm shoulder deep in the inner workings of a volvo dashboard, I saw her underside resting comfortably on some insulation way up inside the dash. Using some pruning shears, I chopped up that insulation and ripped it out, hooking my finger around a snake that I could only assume was probably still irate, hoping she wouldn't bite me toooo hard. After a few tugs and lots of vocal affirmations of love, heat, and delicious rodent snacks, she let go and tumbled onto my face. She didn't even bite me. Probably promises of rodent snacks did the trick. What a mercenary.

But, girl and snake once more reunited, after I'd spent all day imagining grisly images of mechanics pulling her mashed body out from the grinding gears in which she'd become entangled, I broke down and cried. Sobbed and sobbed. My mother called me during my breakdown and, hearing me, assumed that Paris was dead until I could brokenly affirm that I'd just gotten her out and she was fine. Then I punished her by putting her in her carrying case for several hours, because she looked far too pleased with herself when she came out of that dash. Not an ounce of remorse. So into solitary confinement she went.

This morning I was very happy to show her back off to the Roseland community whole and unscathed. Needless to say, today was a WAY better day than yesterday.

Maybe that's not a great story, but it was a big deal to me. :) The hazards of being a snake owner, I guess. Moral: Don't let your snake get wrapped around the steering wheel.

This is my Father's world

I'm taking advantage of the last few hours of Earth Day to write briefly regarding a recent frustration of mine.

I'm done with people, even jokingly, but mostly seriously, trying to debunk the whole climate change/global warming situation. An acquaintance on Facebook recently cited, as his status, a Fox news article about how the Arctic ice shelf was actually growing, rather than shrinking, and that these liberal bastards are just trying to freak out us hard-working Americans with their environmental scare tactics. Every time someone makes a wise-ass comment about how this recent cold weather in April is actually disproving global warming, I want to punch him/her in the scapula.

Dude. The environment. We affect it. The human race has been pumping bad things into the environment at never before seen levels for the last 200 years, without any consideration for the consequences. When we destroy and dirty our planet without thought and care, we directly violate God's command to us in the Garden of Eden, to care for the earth. And subdue it. But, contrary to popular belief, subdue does not mean suck dry.

And suppose all us quasi-liberal hippie types are wrong. The world isn't in serious trouble in the next 100 years. Praise God! BUT, how dare they. HOW DARE THEY act as if we are doing the world a disservice by asking that people be conscious and responsible in the way that they use resources and care for the world we've been given. HOW DARE THEY mock people whose main goal is that Americans, especially, consider that we are not the only people that have ever or will ever live on this planet. That what we do now has implications for the future. That it is not unnecessarily inconvenient, even, to reduce, reuse, and recycle.

Can you tell this is semi-important to me? Maybe more than it should be. But I'm tired of it. Rightist reactions like that just keep pushing me left.

Whatever.

Time for a snack and bed.

Miss Independent

Ahh, another Friday night.

Survived another week of the manic clown show that is my life at Roseland. We're four school days away from Spring Break, which is, I am almost positive, THE LATEST SPRING BREAK EVER. I'm ready to tear my eyes out, then grope around blindly until I find each of my students and tear theirs out, too. I can't blame them for being antsy. At the ripe old age of 24 1/2, while I'm teaching, I'm mentally concocting elaborate plans to sneak out and give myself a two week break instead of one. Most of them involve multiple costume changes in which I wear mustaches, absurdly out of place porkpie hats, costume jewelry, and floppy shoes, whilst attempting my best Flemish accent. All of this is ridiculous, of course, when trying to escape an all-black school in South Chicago. I'd have more luck trying to pass myself off as Kanye West.

So, Brian (my future brother-in-law) and I are extra pumped for our plans for tomorrow. It was his birthday on Thursday, so we're going out to Golden Corral (oh HELL yeah) for lunch, stuffing ourselves with as much buffet food as possible, then coming back home to veg for the rest of the day and watch the Final Four. Anyone else who wants to can feel free to join in.

Yesterday I co-chaired my first ever Science Fair, which, while satisfying and successful, made me perhaps the most tired I've ever been. I don't even think I did much that was really very difficult or demanding. But I woke up this morning with back spasms and a tender sciatic nerve, which made me feel like an overweight 55 year old man. Part of it was probably the mental trauma of trying to explain over and over and over that the theme of the fair was The Invention Convention, and that, for this reason, I was not going to display four different versions of a vinegar and baking soda volcano. Seriously. I tell the classes specifically that volcanoes are not inventions. Still had them turn them in. Along with two kids who turned on a mini light bulb with a battery, and one who demonstrated that adding salt to water makes an egg float. I told them I'd let them know the day I got word that they'd invented volcanoes, electricity, and buoyancy. My biting sarcasm is wasted on these types, however. Ah well.

I still haven't had any definite word on my future at Roseland, but based on complete hearsay, I may still have a job for next year. We shall see. It would be the decent and professional thing to do to let us all know before Spring Break, I say.

Speaking of professional, I actually kicked one of my kids in the butt today. He was NOT moving fast enough for my taste. And it was Freestyle Friday (translation: out of uniform Friday) which always makes me feel a bit feisty. I'm not above whipping a marker at a smart ass from time to time either. Maybe I'll retain my job just in time to get fired. I hope not. I'd better be more careful...

I'm hoping that this next week will finally bring Spring in its fullest expression, rather than tantalizing us with 60 degree temperatures, then snowing on us. Nothing lamer than a chilly Spring Break.

Time to find some foody leftovers. Chikin' TendRz, here I come!