Miz S

Oh, Fred. We hardly knew ye.

I have something embarrassing to report. I think I'm turning into one of those people who are really nutty about hermit crabs. You probably didn't even know those people existed, and neither did I until I started googling "hermit crab care" recently. I found hermit crab care blogs, hermit crab care videos, hermit crab forums, hermit crab conventions and associations, and tons of other stuff.

These people really, really love their hermit crabs. The way that I love April and Rosie and Pushkin.

I've had a big ol' hermit crab for 3 or 4 years that was given to me by a colleague who was retiring. She kept it in her classroom in one of those cages that you buy at the beach on the boardwalk. She would throw in a piece of cupcake or bagel now and then. She used chlorinated tap water in his water bowl. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NEVER GIVE CHLORINATED WATER TO A HERMIT CRAB. (I'm channeling my new hermit crab forum friends.)

So, I took this hermit crab, named him Fred, and gave him slightly less crappy care that the other teacher did, but really not much better. I bought official hermit crab food and dechlorinated his water, but that was the extent of my effort. He languished in my classroom for a couple of years, but he molted several times so I decided I must be doing something right.

This year I tried to pay more attention to Fred. I bought 3 more hermit crabs (they like to live in groups, doncha know?) and I let the students spray them with water almost every day (my new hermit crab FREAK friends do not approve of this practice), and sometimes we would take them out and let them crawl around on the rug in the classroom.

Anyway, last week Fred molted and something went terribly wrong. He wouldn't go back into his old shell, and he wouldn't go into a new, bigger shell. I moved him to an isolation cage so that the other crabs wouldn't bother him, but he just sort of lay there in the water bowl looking miserable and naked.

And then he died, poor little guy.

My students were quite fond of him. We buried him in the school's butterfly garden and each student wrote a little eulogy for him. 

You might enjoy this one:

 

 

This was written by Eli, and I ADORE his ironic use of quotes--it was his last "day."

Me, I am stricken with a guilty-ish conscience. I have spent the last 3 days reading everything I can find about hermit crabs and learning just how much I was neglecting Fred and his buddies. I put together a new tank this weekend with a thermometer and a hygrometer and a this and a that,  but I think it's still not quite right. Oh, and I joined a hermit crab forum.

I AM A FREAK.

 

I realize you can't really read the labels. But you didn't really want to, did you? Anyway, after further reflection I have decided this 10 gallon tank is too small. I will get a bigger tank, and I will use this for my isolation tank.

Wait. Are you laughing at me? STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

Graduation.

Where were we when last I posted? Ah yes, graduation. Little Evangeline--MY BABY, Y'ALL-- graduated from Grinnell College a couple of weeks ago. Josh, Sasha, and I flew out there on a Saturday, helped her pack up her stuff, froze our asses off watching her walk the stage, and did a bunch of other stuff that I can't remember now.  It was fun. 

 

Evangeline's boyfriend, Nathanial. I like how he's got that "striding off into the future" look.

 

I love graduations. All those proud, happy families with their bright-eyed 20-somethings, ready to save the world or go to grad school or flounder around finding their place in the world. It's such a poignant moment in time, isn't it?  On the parents' side, that upswelling of family love and pride, tinged with a little bit of worry while you contemplate the future. Will they find their way? Will they manage when they are really, truly on their own?  And on the kids' side, the feeling of relief that it's over, the feeling of change and possibility in the air. But also, those intense friendships. The circle of friends that will probably never be all together again in the same place.

Not that I know about any of this first hand. I dropped out of college not once but twice, and didn't graduate until I was FORTY. What a slacker I was. And continue to be.

That's okay. I just live vicariously through my daughters, yo. 

We went out to dinner that night with Nathanial (the Boyfriend) and his family. We ate at the fancy restaurant in town where Evangeline has been working as a waitress. The owner, Kamal, is an Egyptian who somehow ended up in Grinnell, Iowa. He was so sweet, and he loves Evangeline and calls her "Emma Lou" which is also one of my nicknames for her. You know how you love anyone who loves your kid? Well, I loved Kamal.

Anyway, Josh and I can cross "raise daughters and see them through college" off our list. Now we can move on to "put elderly parents into a home."  Ha. Kidding. A little bit.

I suppose what we really need to move on to is "put together graduation party for Evangeline." WAAAH! SOMEONE COME PAINT MY HOUSE, REFINISH MY FLOORS, AND LANDSCAPE MY YARD, PRONTO.

Everything is a mess around here, you feel me?

One more thing before I heave myself off my ass and get productive around here: thanks for all your scary ass stories about blood poisoning and cat scratch fever, but I'll have you know my fearsome wounds healed up amazingly fast with absolutely no infection, which I chalk up to my AWESOME immune system but Josh chalks up to his constant nagging about applying Neosporin every 30 seconds for the first couple of days. 

Tomorrow's post will include adorable first grade writing samples so STAY TUNED, ALL Y'ALL BITCHES, I'M BACK.

 

She's so damn cute I just want to hug her and squeeze her all the time, but she objects, so I try to be all cool and casual. 

Scroll Down For Gross Picture of My Cat Scratch Wounds!

So, here we are in Iowa (Josh, Sasha, me.) We have not seen Evangeline yet but we will be with her shortly. Our motel is a good 45 minutes away from her college due to the general lack of facilities in the area coupled with our stupid procrastination about making reservations.

The motel is a nondescript little place right off I-80, and I groaned when I saw it, expecting it to be run-down and unclean.  I was wrong! It's adorable! The proprieter is a darling man from Australia who lives there with his mom and his dogs and cats AND has a little shelter outside for the stray cats in the area which he stocks with fresh food and water and warm straw for sleeping. I LOVE this man!

Yesterday was an all-day traveling and eating day. You know how you eat a lot of crap when you travel? By 7pm, when I was finally in the motel room, I felt bloated and exhausted, so I got in bed and read my book (The Impressionist by Hari Kunzru SO GOOD) and Sasha and Josh went out to see a movie.

At the moment we are waiting for Sasha to finish her ablutions so that we can go get breakfast and then head to Grinnell to see Evangeline. Graduation is not until tomorrow.

Hey! Wanna see something gross? Of course you do! Let me preface this by saying that this past week was hell-ish at work and everywhere else, and I was anxious and weepy and just NOT my usual cheerful self. Then, on Thursday evening, Josh and I were watching an old episode of The Wire (Oh, The Wire! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways) and Pushkin was on our screen porch enjoying the night air. Suddenly, there was that horrible noise of cats fighting. Our neighbor's cat was on the other side of the screen trying to fight Pushkin. This cat comes over all the time and harasses Pushkin through the screen and it pisses me off. We usually let the dogs out to chase him, but it doesn't seem to scare him very much.

Anyway, Pushkin was really agitated and upset. I reached down to pick him up and bring him inside, but to my surprise he whipped around and swiped at my hand. (Pushkin is normally very gentle and NEVER bites or scratches.) 

The smart thing to do would have been to get the hose and spray the neighbor's cat to chase him away. Instead, I decided to use my foot to nudge Pushkin into the house. As soon as my foot touched him he whirled around and attacked my leg, scratching and biting like a wildcat. I think he thought he was fighting the other cat. Thankfully, I was wearing jeans, but he still did a lot of damage.He got me in 3 different places: my calf, my knee, and my thigh. He tore my jeans.

It hurt a lot. And, HE'S MY KITTY WHO LOVES ME! So it hurt my heart too. Josh went out and chased the other cat away while I sobbed and inspected the damage. Here is a picture of one of the areas that got scratched, and you can see 2 evenly spaced punctures that are tooth marks. This picture was taken 48 hours after the fact. It looked a lot worse at the time. Still, it's impressive. 

It was totally my fault for reaching into a cat fight. I KNOW better.

No time, gotta run.

I'm on my way to Iowa in a few minutes for Evangeline's college graduation. Seems like just the other day that I dropped her off. Actually, that's not true. It feels like a long time ago. Well, not a long time. More like 4 years. More later if I have time. Love you guys. Miss you.

Now she's gotta look for a job, poor thing.