I have some questions. I know--I always have some questions. Deal with it.
Does WalMart have a Freak Signal? Think "Bat Signal" for weirdness. Sadly, I am in WalMart more frequently than I care to admit. You may make your own inferences about the aforementioned Freak Signal right now if you must, but trust me when I say I am NOT the freak this time. WalMart has gotten my money twice in just over 24 hours, so I have a pretty good sampling of what's going on there. Last night, I was sitting in my van making my list (okay, making my list and eating an Arby's roast beef). I wasn't there very long, but in the amount of time I was there, I saw The Village People walk into the store (Halloween), a freakishly tall and frumpy man wage and lose a war with what must have been a killer wedgie, and a 22-year-old man swing his grandmother's hand over a pillar. Sweet more than freaky, but odd, nonetheless.
Last night, Halloween. Today, Hitchcock and Hedren do WalMart. The first time I saw a bird, I thought the progressive lenses were messing with me. It happens. The second time I saw a bird, I thought perhaps the drugs were to blame. The third time I saw a bird, someone was right beside me and he saw it too. I watched that bird scoot its little bird self under the shelf and muttered to my new ornithologist friend that the little bastard better not fly out from under the shelf at me. The fourth time I saw a bird, the little bastard flew out from under the shelf at me, because I'm stupid like Tippi Hedren and set myself up for that. On the fourth sighting, I yelped "God," turned my cart around, and got out of there. If I'd have kept going, those birds would surely have messed up my hair and turned me catatonic. I've seen the movie.
Something else I would like to know, if some science-type could dumb it down for me, is why Prednisone makes me want to eat my house. Not necessarily MY house. Anything, really. I know "increased appetite" is a listed side-effect of Prednisone. I don't want or need an increased appetite and was pretty intent on ignoring that side-effect. Mind over matter, right? HAH! Why is that? I don't really expect an answer to this one, I'm just wondering. Mostly I'm hoping the hunger passes and I'll quit caring about the "why."
And what about that corn husk riding the wind? It struck me as beautiful. Winsome. I don't find corn fields beautiful, and there are thousands of husks in one spot. Why, then, did one husk capture my attention? Did it have to be alone and airborne, unique in that moment, at the mercy of the wind, to make me notice? This question will probably get my full attention shortly. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. This question has been trying to find its answer for a couple of weeks. What a silly thing to wonder about, much less write about, but the question won't go away.
Now a work-related question: When certain parents come in for parent-teacher conferences, do they realize that their mere presence answers every question I had about the student? Truly every question. For instance, the parent of the student who knows better than I how to do my job spent the entire conference offering suggestions about how I might do my job better. Not vague suggestions, either, but things like which spelling words I should do and what skills students that age should master. I'm grateful, too, for her input. Frankly, it would never have occurred to me to consider a class's weaknesses or study the benchmarks for grade levels. Good thing she came along. And then there is the parent of lights-are-on-but-nobody-is-home. I was trying to conference, but when I looked her in the eye I realized that nobody is home because she can't remember her address.
I better let it go for now. I think I'll look some stuff up. Maybe find some answers. If I can ever get all of my questions answered, you'll know, because the countless light bulbs powering up at once will make a glowing spot in the sky. And here we are, back where we started--the Freak Signal. Why is that?
