About Industrious Warrior Maiden

Falling out of sleep, into day, into dreams, I float on mixed-up fantasies behind my mocha's steam. Fortified by stacks of Austen, Wilde, and Poe, (and Borges, Bronte, Chekhov, Dostoevsky, and Eco) I dodge the world's madness and my husband's . . . I'd rather not know. Quick to see the laughable; slow to take the quill; Like most of my pursuits, I write when on the grill. Ensconced in random musings, engrossed in random lore, I am the fearful warrior maid, industrious of yore.

Mice in the Farmhouse

We live in an old farmhouse. I am accustomed to seeing the occasional mouse in the basement. To hearing the occasional mouse in the ceiling. To finding occasional mousey evidence in the form of chewed-through birdseed bags in the entryway.

I am not accustomed to mice running full speed across the living room floor directly at my feet. Or to seeing them skitter across the counter behind the kitchen sink. Or to hearing them have an all-out clan war in my bedroom in the middle of the night.

Something has happened in the mousey kingdom between last night and the night before and I wish it would end.

We did not hear them going "vroom, vroom, vroooom."

They were not, to our knowledge, riding motorcycles.

We had not seen or heard a mouse for several months. In fact, aside from when they attempted to move into the house last fall before the impending winter, there has not been a problem. Of course, last fall we trapped two a day for a week, so perhaps that properly reduced the population. Still, for months, there was nothing.

And then, last night. I do not know if there were many or just a couple that were crazed, but a mouse was running back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, working up the courage to … DASH … directly at our feet. We both yelped. Then we heard it (or another?) in the entry way. Then we went to bed. Then we heard things clinking in the kitchen. Then we heard them fighting behind our dresser. And running across the bedroom floor. And squeaking under the bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

The first thing I did this morning was check to see if there had been a full moon last night. No dice. Can’t blame it on the moon. Then I did a quick Google search to see if there was such a thing as catnip for mice. No results. My theory of a mouse Saturnalia or Bacchanalia was groundless.

No after-party evidence was found.

No after-party evidence was found.

In fact, the only thing that changed between last night and the night before was that my husband did a little work on the chimney. In the process, some debris fell down the wall. Did we crush their home? Do we have a mischief of mice looking for new lodging? More urgently, are they preparing revenge?


World Thinking Day

If Mr. Rampage Productions can poke fun at a charity for disabled veterans (granted, that was several years ago), I feel secure in taking a stab at the below mentioned organization.

In the absence of saints’ feast days, it appears the secular world has chosen to clutter the calendar with memorials of a different sort. There is Earth Day of course, and months and days dedicated to every possible cancer, disease, and death causing agent imaginable. I once received an e-mail from one of my political representatives informing me that she was the proud co-author of a resolution recognizing the first annual World Glaucoma Day.  We have gone from daily reminding ourselves of our immortal souls to daily reminding ourselves of our very mortal bodies, it seems.

This beats all however. I received a postcard declaring February 22 World Thinking Day.

Thank you very much for reminding me and the world to think. I agree that this is a very important faculty of being human, and I deduce from your desire to designate a day to it that you either have failed to participate in said faculty or you have an even more cynical worldview than myself.

Or perhaps you are imploring us to only think one day a year – you will take care of the other 364?

Judging by the sponsoring organization, I would have to conclude that the group responsible for the brain child of World Thinking Day simply didn’t think things through. The Girl Scouts apparently have gone from teaching girls how to make campfires and selling cookies to empowering girls to think with World Thinking Day. (In the interests of full disclosure, let it be known that I was once a Girl Scout myself and that I even now eagerly await the arrival of Thin Mints each year.)

Granted, the day actually started as a day to celebrate their founders. Another source states “It is a day to think about the meaning of Guiding and Scouting and about Scouts and Guides in all the countries of the world.” However, I’m pretty sure the postcard mentioned something about Girl Scouts all over the world thinking the same thing on the same day. With their thinking ray they will change the world or something like that.

So what do they think about on World Thinking Day? To what is their thinking ray directed? World Thinking Day 2005 was all about food. The 2008 World Thinking Day focus was “Think About Water.” And the theme for 2012 was “We can save the planet.” With their thinking ray, they will SAVE the world.