woman vs. wild

The chipmunks had to be stopped. They were cute last year, bounding across the backyard, popping their furry little faces up out of the grass.

Then, they dug a tunnel into the garage, churning up a pile of dirt so high it covered the lawn mower gas cans. Then, they developed a massive subterranean labyrinth through our yard. They dug through my bell pepper plant, unearthing it entirely. Then they started in on the flower beds, as evidenced by exhibit A below.


Like I said, they had to be stopped. What follows can be classified as inhumane. Call me Hitler, because that's who I feel like. I hope PETA is not reading.

Exhibit B, below, is an invention of my father's: a utility bucket filled with water; a few handfuls of floating birdseed; and a convenient onramp. In short, a death trap for chipmunks. I don't think I need to tell you how it works.

This morning, I found not one but two furry little creatures doing the dead man's float. God forgive me.

touch your fourhead

Sometimes when Wednesday night English class ends early, we play Simon Says.

It's a little different than American kids game, because Simon (me) doesn't actually "touch" anything. Instead I say things like "Simon says touch your ears," and then the students try to remember what "ears" means.

Back in April (yes, that was forever ago, and yes, I have a backlog of blogs to write)... anyway, back in April, this made me chuckle for days:

Me: Simon says touch your forehead

Student: (starts reaching over to tap the heads of people around her, looks confused, looks at me) Touch FOUR head?

Oh yes, I was laughing hysterically, but so was she. Gotta love a woman who can laugh at herself.

I took this group picture of the class, and then Kahlah and Tabweh asked for a separate shot (they're best buds).