Mr. Postman

I've created an email address associated with the blog in case someone wants to contact me with an opinion or thought they'd rather not the whole world see. It's yorick1279@yahoo.com.

View from my Front Deck

This is why it's worth it to live in the country... I'll take the twenty minute drive to the city if it means getting to see this everyday of my life.

Some days the cows walk right up to the fence in the foreground- at night they're so quiet you wouldn't know it, except for the fact that the dogs raise Cain. I've walked clear to the tree line a time or two, and I'm always amazed at how far away it is. Behind that big tree to the left is a small patch of blackberries that makes the trip worthwhile.

The dogs will often return from their trips covered in a grey mud up to their haunches with a satisfied look on their faces. I'm convinced they compete to see who can get the dirtiest, for the "winner" always walks with an extra bounce in his step.

Blawgs

Over the past few weeks, I've met two of my future classmates online.

One of them is interested in computer animation. You can see examples of his craft at his blog, http://www.livejournal.com/users/goodluckfox. He posts quite frequently, so check it out often.

The other guy I met is new to the world of blogging, but quite enthusiastic about the process. You can run into his online world at http://www.cacheofreason.blogspot.com. Right now he's most concerned about exposure, so head over there and leave a comment- I'm sure anyone who has a blog remembers the feeling they had when they received their first few comments.

It's always nice to know someone's looking.

Unlucky Number

As a future law student, I've begun to pay a lot more attention to legal cases around the country, particularly to see if (and how) they'll shape current statutes.

This one has caught my attention recently:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8716780/

Apparently a gentleman in his 20's married a 13-year old girl in Kansas. Which, in Kansas, is perfectly legal as long as both sets of parents agree, which they appear to do. Apparently the fact that she became pregnant had a great deal to do with the decision, rightly or wrongly.

Nebraska Attorney General Jon Bruning sees things differently, however. He is trying to convict Koso (the husband) on first-degree sexual assault, a crime for which he can face up to 50 years in prison. He has been released on bond.

I feel that Bruning should drop the case. Whether he likes it or not, Kansas state law is Kansas state law. You can't prosecute because something strikes you as "repugnant". We learned this lesson from the flag burning cases of the 1980's.

Legally, his only recourse might be to charge Koso with statutory rape, since he admits to sleeping with her before the marriage. But even this prosecution, while "legal" would send the wrong message. We don't want grown men to have sex with minors, but we also don't want to dissuade them from committing to a problem and attempting to resolve it, either. A prison sentence will not and can not undo what has been done, and would only serve to deny the wife and child a husband, father and income-earner for the household.

All cases of course should be looked at individually, but unless it's obvious that Koso brainwashed her and that the marriage was made under duress, it should be affirmed. My gut sense tells me that at most, a jury will slap Koso on the wrist. His conviction, from what I've read, doesn't pass the "smell" test.

Update: After doing some more research, I discovered that both the wife and husband likely suffer from a mental disability to some degree. They were both in special education programs in high school. Furthermore, Koso's mother claims that Koso was a virgin until he met the girl, which she proffers as evidence that Koso is not a predator.

How all of this will influence the case remains to be seen, but now the most likely legal question is "did Koso have the mental capacity to understand his actions?"

I'm interested in seeing how this all works out.

Slim Pickens

I drove to Pickens, Mississippi a few days ago on a lark.

I won't make that mistake again.

The town is exactly as Faulkner would have written it- you have the black people living on one side of the town and the white people living on the other. The main highway through town serves as a line of demarcation. Both sides have a separate church- the police station straddles the two sides, as it sits right on the highway- and it was clear to me from driving through that things had been this way for a long time.

There's one gas station in town and the center of activity revolves around a small grocery store at the edge of town.

I originally went to see their library (they had one, believe it or not) because I thought it might be a good place to study during law school. Unfortunately, it's smaller than most people's living rooms and looks like it's in an old mechanic's shop. I guess I'll be studying at the Canton library.

Bad Luck

Those who have followed my blog will not be surprised to learn that the past month has probably been one of the most trying ones in my life. Five or six major ordeals have hit me within a four-week period, one after the other. To make matters worse, little things have gone wrong as well.

Why?

I have two theories as to why bad things happen, and each one is framed against a backdrop of Judeo-Christian thought.

The first one maintains that bad things happen because God is trying to teach us a lesson. Although this would appear to stem from a Puritanical mindset, it's not so much a comment on God's vindictive nature as humanity's unwillingness to listen. As my wife commented, God speaks in whispers. When we don't listen- he talks. When we don't listen again, he shouts. Since my wife has OCD, she thinks that God is trying to tell her that she can't control everything- that there will always be problems to solve and imperfections to deal with.

I tend to lean toward the more Job-based idea that Satan is basically making our path difficult because he fears what will happen when we reach our destination. If he can trip us up now, then he won't have to stop us when we're stronger. Either coincidentally or not, most of our problems began when we moved to Mississippi and I began preparing for law school. And like Job, I think God allows Satan a great amount of latitude when placing obstacles in a Christian's path. Without a test of faith, what is belief in God worth?

One could say that you could combine the two theories and maintain that God caused the bad things to happen because he doesn't want me to go to law school. But I have a hard time rectifying this with what has happened. I like to think that God wouldn't let one of my dogs be killed because he doesn't want me to become a lawyer. That's not to say it's impossible, only that something in my gut tells me that's not the case.

One small point, and then I'll leave it be. A day ago I went to a gas station to get gas. The guy ahead of me paid for his gas and walked away. The second I walk up to the counter, the lady looks at me and tells me that the electronic system has just went down and that they can't sell gas.

That would be odd enough, but today I went to a gas station and the doors were locked. A sign on the door said "Temporarily closed." I waited for five minutes and left. What are the odds that two gas station within days of each other would somehow close or break when I wanted to use them? I'm twenty-five, and I've never had that problem once. Then I have it twice in two days?

Something more powerful than me is at work here, and that something wants to make my life as difficult as possible.

The Shock of Death

We lost one of our dogs yesterday to the highway. To compound the matter even worse, my wife found him as she was driving home from work. She ran through the door in tears and collapsed on the couch. She knew it was him by the red collar. We had named him Hunter, which belied his gentle nature and wagging tail.

I left to make sure he was dead. Thankfully, he was. I say thankfully because my worst fear is not that one of our dogs will be killed, but that they will be sideswiped by a car, drag themselves off to the woods, and suffer for days on end in a constant state of fear before they die. I'll take a clean death any day over that end.

I'm not a vet, but I think he died instantly- or at least was knocked out instantly, and died shortly thereafter. There was precious little blood, which makes me think that his heart stopped almost immediately after the accident. Secondly, he was lying in the middle of the road, so he made no attempt or effort to get up. Even a mortally wounded dog, if conscious, will at least try to move.

I pulled him off the road to preserve what dignity he had left- by some miracle, no one had hit him again, and his body was still incredibly intact. From a distance, you would think he was sleeping. I wrapped him up in garbage bags and carried him to my parents' house, where he was buried beneath the old plum trees. I like to think he'd like it there.

It pains me to see him go but it helps to know that he knew he was loved and had a home for the few months he was with us. We picked him up off the road as a stray, so he was thankful for whatever we gave him. The four weeks he spent out here, running through creeks and fields, were probably the happiest moments of his life. You could see it in his eyes.

I'm not a violent person but I hope I never encounter the person who hit him and drove on. I can understand an accident, and I know my dog shouldn't have been in the road, but the level of callousness required to simply kill an animal and move on sickens me. Three minutes of effort would have produced a collar and a tag (with two telephone numbers) and with a little bit more effort one could have drug him to the side of the road, at least. The call could even have been anonymous. I would have been thankful to know what happened, that the driver felt a modicum of remorse, and know I needed to deal with the situation before my wife got home and saw it. Even when I tried to remove his body from the road, the cars didn't stop or even slow down- I was afraid someone was going to hit him again as I stood by and watched. There's something dreadfully wrong with our society when we don't realize and cultivate the sacred interconnectedness of all things. Hunter was a part of me, and I was a part of Hunter. Those people driving past the dog failed to realize that he was a part of them, too.

Rest in peace, Hunter. Know this- tears were shed in your memory.

The Wonder of Life

Two nights ago our pregnant cat gave birth to seven healthy kittens. Which in and of itself is a miracle, considering that she had basically been abandoned for the first three weeks of her pregnancy. By the time we found her, she was already swollen. I don't know how she found enough food to keep her babies on her own. Pregnant mothers need a lot of food, and it's hard enough for a cat to survive catching mice just to feed itself, much less seven embryonic kittens.

She gave birth to the first three quite easily, cutting the umbilical cord and licking them to stimulate breathing. But she quickly grew tired (remember, the air was broken) and pushing them out was all she could manage. That left me with the crucial task of removing the sac around them, rubbing their cheeks until they stirred, and then cutting the cord myself. Since I couldn't find a pair of scissors, I had to use my fingernails. It's amazing when you sit there and watch a newborn kitten lay perfectly still- for a moment you fear he isn't going to make it, and then he shudders and takes in his first breath.

The first six all followed in quick succession, and I had convinced myself that she was through when, two hours later, she started contracting again and pushed out a seventh. Being the runt, it was tiny, but it quickly found a nipple and started feeding.

The mother cat (called a queen in cat breeding parlance) is a good mother. She's never out of sight of her litter, and jumps in to feed them whenever they start to cry. I'm glad, for I've heard there are queens who will abandon their litters or be terribly lackadaisacal about the whole affair.

Most of them are gray tabbies, but one of them is solid black. My grandfather, who was incredibly superstitious, is no doubt turning over in his grave.

Air Supply

For the past week, the air conditioning unit has been broken in our trailer. For those who have never lived in a trailer, they are essentially metal boxes. Which means that in the middle of the day, when it's 98 degrees outside in Mississippi, it can easily be 105-110 inside the trailer, thanks to the properties of convection. There were times during the middle of the day when I had to leave and cool off by going outside, to stress the point further. Worse still, even when the day had cooled off outside, the trailer still held the heat from the day, so sleeping wasn't too much fun either.

Hence why I haven't posted- doing anything is miserable enough in the heat, but trying to get my Internet to work while sweating buckets is laborious indeed, so I gave up and just shut the thing off.

We bought a small window unit to help us survive in the interim, but all that succeeded in doing was allowing us to cool off if we sat mere inches from it on a constant basis- which is pretty much what we did for a few days there. That and drink a lot of water.

On the bright side, the air was fixed today and now it's working better than ever. Hopefully, it'll be years before we have another problem with it.

Melton

Now that I'm in Mississippi, I'm paying closer attention to the political landscape. Since Yazoo City (or County) isn't really a hotbed of activity, my attention has turned to Jackson. It is, after all, the place where a grew up and the city where I'll be attending law school.

Recently, Frank Melton became Jackson's new mayor. Although it's impossible to know his true motives, it is not hard to see that most of his actions are designed to increase his public exposure and improve his image.

It began with Melton (who is a sheriff in another county) heading out with local police officers to make drug arrests. Of course, the cameras came along. This is all fine and good, but one probably loses the element of surprise when you have a news van following you around. But it made for good TV, and sent the message to Melton's constituents that he was tough on crime.

Next, the news reported that someone had broken into a liquor store and scrawled a crude warming to Melton. The news went so far as to even show the phrase "uck Milton" on camera. Not withstanding the burglar's lack of spelling, it's not difficult to finish the phrase. When asked about the incident, Melton replied that he could not comment on the issue, since it was a matter of security.

Huh? Then why show the message, or tip off the news agency? I seriously doubt that the local news has the time or resources to cover every break-in that occurs in the Jackson area. Secondly, since it's a crime scene, it's well within the police's right to seal off the area, take pictures, collect evidence, and then leave. So why let the news know and then not comment? He wants to send the message that he's not scared or intimidated by Jackson's crime.

Next, he announced plans to tear down an apartment complex for safety and health reasons. The residents complained and the next day he was on camera claiming that he had changed his mind and that he wanted to work with the owner to renovate the apartments. The residents were smiling around him. Does anyone buy this? I refuse to believe that Melton is so dumb that he didn't know exactly how this little scenario would play out. At first he announced the tear-down (showing his toughness) and then he announced the renovation (showing his compassion and willingness to work with the people). It was WAY too calculated, but no one seemed to notice.

So now I've begun playing a game- what will Melton do next to get on TV? Here's my hunch- yesterday a guy was hit by a car while playing basketball in the street. The police fined the owner of the basketball goal two hundred dollars and confiscated the goal. The homeowners say that playing basketball allows the young teenagers to put their energy into a safe outlet, as opposed to stealing cars or breaking into houses. (I can't tell you how many times I've stolen something just because I had too much energy.)

My guess is that within the next twenty-four hours, Melton will announce that the city is going to build a basketball court in the guy's neighborhood, complete with security lights. At least, if he's half the politician I think he is, he will. Melton was once in the news business, so he knows how to frame the story to suit his needs. The Jackson media has unknowingly become a puppet that dances anytime Melton pulls the strings. I salute his brilliance.

I don't care how much he manipulates the media, as long as he makes Jackson a better place to learn and live.

Once Bitten...

My dog Charlie was bit by something yesterday morning. I found him on the front deck with a muzzle almost twice its normal size. I was worried, but not frightened, because I've had dogs in the past who had been bitten (by bees, wasps, snakes, etc.) so bad that their whole faces had swollen to the point where they couldn't see. So his was a mild case. If he had trouble breathing, or if he hadn't wolfed down the hot dogs I gave him, I would have been more worried and taken him to the vet.

I gave him two Benadryl and brought him inside so he could cool off a bit. He's doing much better today.

I almost hope it was a snake. That way, maybe next time he'll know to keep his distance. Since I found him on the streets of Atlanta, there's a good chance he'd never encountered one before. Dogs who have had a run-in usually will keep about an eight foot distance and bark like crazy until they grow weary or their owner shows up.

Out here it seems like the dogs are always getting little scrapes and cuts, either from fighting or barbwire or whatnot. As a result, I've had to create a little first aid kit to deal with it. I've got Neosporin, some Q-tips, some Benadryl, and some hydrogen peroxide. With those four things, I can treat and deal with ninety-five percent of their injuries. The other five percent send them off to the vet.

And Then There Were Eight...

Not really, since O'Connor isn't leaving until her replacement is found, but I like to make my titles catchy.

Bush is expected to select a candidate for the Court soon. I have a sinking suspicion that unless he picks Ted Kennedy, the entire Democratic Party is gonna go berserk. And to tell you the truth, I don't understand why. It's a battle they can't win, based simply on the numbers.

Choosing a Supreme Court Justice is one of a President's most far-reaching powers, given the fact that a justice holds his position for life. Rehnquist, for example, was nominated by Nixon. It's 2005, and a choice Nixon made is still influencing the nation. That's an awesome amount of power- and responsibility.

Democrats are urging Bush to choose a "moderate"- possibly because even as they fight, they know they're destined to lose. The Republicans control a (slim) majority in the Senate, thus Bush could pretty much choose anyone who doesn't have a criminal record and get him pushed through. True, the Democrats could filibuster, but then McCain would unleash the "nuclear option." So the Democrats are basically in a battle they can't win. At least they should lose it with some dignity.

Note: I generally vote for the individual I believe has the best character instead of party affiliations. Since the manner in which I live my life generally precludes government intervention, it is more important to me what the man who leads the nation holds dear than what he's planning to do. All of that is just to say I'm not "Republican" or "Democrat"; if the Democrats had this same opportunity, I can assure you I would suggest that the Republicans back down.

Sadly, though, neither side will or would. Why? There are two reasons- one emotional and the other political. Emotionally, the opposing party thinks that it will benefit them if they can bloody the nominee (and the President) in a long drawn-out battle. The Democrats, in particular, remember well the days of Bork. Secondly, both parties have become so owned and controlled by special interest groups that they are basically forced to fight, like pit bulls held in a ring. They fight because the money (millions and millions of it) tells them to. It's as simple as that. In politics, sadly, everything boils down to money.

Delayed Reaction

I would normally post more, but my life is in a holding pattern until law school starts. Not much happens when you sit at home and watch one of the five channels that you can pick up via antenna.

I did some exploring yesterday and found where the cows crossed the creek to enter the field next to our house. At the far end of the field, the barbwire fence gives way and you find yourself standing on the edge of what appears to be a miniature Grand Canyon. Either the cows or the water has cut a groove through the earth. At one point, the "cliffs" measure at least six feet above the ground below. This is nominal, I know, but its quite impressive when all the land around it is flat. At both ends of the canyon, the land slowly rises to meet the field above it, and the cows' hoofs have left little indentions that fill with water the color of coffee. It would be amazing to see them make the trip.

In other news, I finally thought of a way to keep the dogs from getting hit by cars. They never head toward the road until we go to leave, so normally it's not a problem. But I needed to find a way to make them stay on the property until we had time to leave. Since we've got to open the gate, this takes a while to accomplish. After racking my brain, I came up with the following solution: there's a small fenced pen behind the trailer that I place them in before I leave (I would keep them in there the whole duration, but I hate to keep them in that small place for too long) and then I place a large bucket of water in front of the door. Then I attach a bungee cord (the kind with hooks at the ends) to both the pen and the lip of the bucket. Then I pull out the plug at the bottom of the bucket and quickly leave.

After about five minutes (and after I've left), the bucket grows considerably lighter and the bungee cord picks it up, which causes the door to swing open. It worked fine today, and I chuckle to myself when I picture the dogs sitting in the cage whining when the door opened on its own.

Now that I know the idea works, I'm trying to make it more practical to use on an everyday basis so it's not a pain to do when we both have to leave.

Boredom

I changed my background color to make it look like a legal pad.

Nails

I'm a horrible nail biter. Which is a problem, since I would like to have nice nails in time for law school. I'll probably be shaking lots of people's hands and the last thing I want them to think is that I'm unkempt.

Stopping is difficult, since most of the time when I do it, I'm not thinking about it. So I was at a loss until I read a passage out of a psychology textbook from the 70's. It stated that there was a professor who had the same problem. What he did was place a rubber band around his wrist. Anytime he caught himself biting his nails he would pull the rubber band as far as possible before snapping it against his wrist. As you can imagine, this hurt a great deal. Once his brain got the message that biting his nails caused pain, he quickly stopped biting. On an unconscious level, his brain changed his behavior. Amazing stuff, really.

I started trying it today. I've had to pop myself a few times, but all in all, I think it's working.

Now if I can only find something to whiten my teeth...

School's Out Forever

A few miles down the highway there's an old abandoned high school. My wife and I found it while exploring the nearby area one day in the car. Ever since seeing it, I knew I had to go in. When I returned home, I did some research on the Internet but could find virtually nothing about the school. It was like it didn't exist. I did find that it was in service from at least the 40's to late 90's but that was about it.

So yesterday I headed out to explore it. It was the middle of the day when I pulled into the drive. I pulled in quite a ways to avoid the curious passerby and stopped the car where it would be hidden from most traffic. Then I climbed out and looked around.

The school itself is a brick affair with two main buildings- the classroom area and the gymnasium. These two are separated by a short walkway. There are also several "outbuildings", most of which I have no idea what they were used for. One resembles an old hospital but I doubt that was its purpose.

Note: At no point did I see a "No Trespassing" sign; if I had, I probably would have left. Thinking it through, however, one could argue that since the site was public property the only legal way one could keep an explorer out would be to declare the property unsafe to occupy. I didn't see any of those notices either, so I kept going. If a cop of resident had pulled up, I would have went with the old standby of claiming I was looking for my lost dog. It works (almost) every time.

The two main front doors faced the car. I looked at them, but they looked terribly imposing, so I built up my courage by walking around the building first. I knew that there was a small chance I would encouter a homeless person or some teenagers who wanted to break things, so I kept my ears open. My goal in this expedition was only to assuage my curiousity, not take anything or force my way in. I would only be an observer.

I shouldn't have worried. When I walked around the school, I quickly found several ways to enter the old complex. One was too wet, but the other one was perfect. Apparently I wasn't the only one interested in this little treasure, which only served to heighten my apprehension. Walking through, I realized that I was on the bottom floor, in an old science lab. It was then that I almost scared myself to death when I heard a horrible screeching sound to my right. I almost bolted, but I forced myself to stop and ascertain the origin of the sound. It was one of those old metal blinds (the windows had mostly been broken) scraping against the windowpane in the wind. Throughout my exploration, these sounds kept popping up, and I never grew used to hearing them. It's an unnatural sound that makes me think of a banshee. I can hear it as I type this.

After checking out the old gas nozzles in the science lab, I proceeded toward the stairs. A piece of graffiti announcing it's intention to do something vulgar to me served as a greeting. I slowly walked up, my imagination constantly creating horrible scenarios: the insane janitor appearing at the top with a bloody mop; the principal who refuses to admit that the school has closed and holds his students in the basement; or the random psycho killer just waiting for a sap like me to enter.

I don't know why I do these things to myself- I purposely choose to do things that I know will scare the hell out of me. Anyway, I reached the top and found myself in the middle of the main hallway. In retrospect, I believe they may have closed the school due to its small size. The main hall was quite small by modern high school standards, and I don't think I came across more than fifteen classrooms. From the hallway, one could see double doors at both ends. One set of them led the way to my car.

Meandering in that direction, I was struck by how much the place looked like the set of a horror movie- or an X-files episode. Desks and papers were strewn all over the place, as if the teachers and students had left in a total panic. Not that I'm going to steal anything, but the whole place was an Ebay treasure trove. Sitting in the main hallway is a giant solid wood teacher's desk that had to have been built in the 1950's. It's got club feet and has to weigh at least two hundred and fifty pounds. I'm thinking about emailing the school district and asking if they would sell it, but then I'd have to admit I entered the building- so I'm at a loss.

There were still chalkboards in the classrooms and at one point I passed a room that was pitch black inside. I didn't go in- for obvious reasons- but it was eerie to look into a totally black room and have no idea what (or who) lurked inside. At this point I think I realized that I was standing in the middle of the spookiest place I'd ever seen.

Before leaving the main building, I entered an old classroom that still had an ancient set of World Book encyclopedias. I passed the old counselor's office on my way out.

Reaching the car, I was about to leave when I remembered that I had left the gymnasium unexplored. Not knowing if I would find occasion to come back, I went to take a look. Unfortunately, I couldn't get in because the rain had flooded the only passable entryway. I did get a good look however. The old high school banners still hung from the rafters, as if waiting for a roaring crowd that would never come again. The whole affair sent a chill up my spine.

Satisfied (for now), I climbed in my car and quickly left. I hope to get some pictures soon, but I think that I will find someone to go with me next time. I do know this- you could not pay me enough money to spend the night in that place.

Bucolic

Having lived in the city for the better part of two years, I am quite pleasantly surprised by the differences one encounters in the country.

The change that strikes me the most is the way time seems to slow down. Some of the longest days in my life have been spent here. It's a lazy kind of slow, one where there's not much to do and plenty of time to do it.

Those who have followed my blog know that there's a creek flowing behind my old house that I used to like and visit. As fate would have it, there's another creek behind this one. It's an old cattle ditch that runs in almost a straight line and borders an impressive pasture. At one point, it resembles something straight out of a Frost poem. The creek runs out of sight on both sides and you're staring across at an old tree line. The third farthest tree has fallen down. It's almost impossible to explain, but something feels "right" about the place. Perhaps you have to be there.

Another thing about rural life is the propensity of animal life. Just yesterday, one of my mutts herded about sixty cows like he'd done it his whole life. I wasn't there to see it, but my wife reports that he looked just like the cattle dogs you see on TV. He's a Newfoundland mix, so I suppose he just went on instinct. I've seen a few deer, a snake, and a white, graceful bird that likes to toy with my dogs. Even the earth feels alive, although that's hard to explain too.

Then there are the bugs. Bugs, bugs everywhere. I can't leave my front porch light on for fear that the deck will soon be consumed by thousands of them. Normally, I wouldn't care, but I don't want them to annoy my animals. There are some beautiful moths and butterflies as well. They land on you, slowly move their wings, and then flit away into the afternoon.

It is fitting that the Japanese chose the haiku to express nature- I see them being composed around me all the time.

Move From Hell

I'm finally settled in my new home in Mississippi. It took almost exactly a week to get everything unpacked and in place. Only seconds ago, I was able to establish an internet connection- hence the long time between posts.

The move, although well-planned, quickly fell apart at the seams. First, I had trouble renting a moving van from Budget. They sent me to another location and then I had trouble using the Amex, although it should have worked. So I had to put down $500 on my debit, which is money I really couldn't afford to spend at the moment. But I also needed my things in Mississippi, so I plunked it down.

Secondly, my wife and I planned on driving down together with the last of the pets and the moving van. I would drive the van with a stray cat in a carrier riding in the front, and my wife would drive one of our cars and transport three dogs. Well, that worked until we hit Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I had to stop to get gas so my wife stopped and the car died in an Arby's parking lot. We tried to jump it off, but no luck. She was dead. (The car, not my wife.)

After trying to think- which is hard when you have four unhappy pets- I decided that our only option was to cram all of us into the front compartment of the Budget rental truck. Try, if you can, to imagine two people, three dogs, and a stray cat all trying to fit in a tiny space for the better part of three hours and you'll get a sense of what we went through.

Thirdly, I had to drive back to Tuscaloosa a few days later and get the car fixed. Turns out she needed a new alternator, a new battery, and a new ignition switch. Since they knew I was out of town, they charged me $471.59. Once again, money I really couldn't afford to spend.

But, we made it. The dogs are happy on their six acres, the cats are content inside, and me and the wife are starting to get small chances to relax now that the maelstrom of moving is slowly fading away. I guess all is well that ends well.