Sneak Peeks by Louise Yeiser McAlpin

What do you do?

“What do you do?” the large print asked, with the tiny print below the box, advising that I keep my answer within 250 words.  I paused to think before I began.

Meditation and yoga, travel, writing, training mastiffs, reading, knitting, walking, tons of volunteer work.  I love to make up budgets and execute to-do lists and pay my bills on time.  I do not enjoy going to the beauty parlor, shopping or doing laundry.  I hate ironing and refuse to de-vein shrimp.  I like to sit in my back yard on summer evenings and watch the gloaming, keeping my eye on the woods where the tree-line meets the sky, and taking note of the exact moment the barn swallows appear, followed by bats, lightning bugs and nighttime stars.  Usually morning is my favorite time of day; but in the summer, it is the gloaming, the twilight, that mysterious transition of day into night, when the sky is a deep blue or gray or purple and the whole world changes into something else.

“This late in the summer, the lightning bugs have thinned out,” I think.  “I wonder if I should've written about that.”

Have a great last-weekend-in-July weekend!

From Louise

Bratty, Batty Q & A

1.    Why does your back hurt?

Because I pulled a muscle Sunday night, chasing a bat named Squeaky around my bedroom with a blanket over my head and a tennis racket in my hand.  I was trying to corral him out of the bathroom where he had become trapped, and back into the cool night air from whence he came, when he flew smack into my forehead.  The resulting twist/turn/scream/retreat nailed my back, sank me to the floor, and gave Jeffrey and me something to laugh about hysterically in the midst of immense pain and total chaos.

2.    At what time was the nocturnal intruder discovered?

Intruders, plural.  There were originally two, but Squeaky’s little friend Bart let himself out when my back was turned.  I discovered my tormentors at about 12:30 am, so it was actually Monday morning, not Sunday night at all.  Squeaky’s safe removal was executed a little after 2.

3.    What were you doing when you discovered the perps?

Trying to sleep, after having spent the last 4 hours studying for my 2nd to last test in How Science Works, my only remaining Quantitative Analysis requirement of my University of Pittsburgh undergraduate career.  Professor How-To has been amusing himself by trying to kill off the Fine Arts and English Writing students who were stuck in his class by order of the College of Arts & Sciences.  I have now survived two “slow” sections of College Algebra and one Philosophy of Science class. 

4.    At the time of this writing, is summer school over?

Yes!  My last test was on Wednesday.  After class, I drove home, pulled into the driveway, went straight to the dumpster (which has been there for years now, thus starting a new fashion trend up and down our street), and lobbed my notebook, textbook, and papers, one at a time, into the rubble.  I plan to forget standard deviations, heat engines, statistically significant data, and the theories of thermodynamics by the end of the weekend.

5.    Back to the bats.  How did they initially make their presence known?

They made so much noise bumping into the room that I thought Jeffrey had snuck out onto the deck from the other side, and was enjoying the night breeze just outside my door.  I was annoyed with him, and called out, “Jeffrey?” as I flipped on my light, only to see two bats swirling and circling the room above my head.  I don’t get why were they bumping into things one minute, and then smoothly negotiating the parameters of my room the next. 

6.    How were they removed from the scene?

Bart let himself out after I went shrieking from the room, down the hall, into my son’s room for help.  When we returned, armed with additional tennis rackets and sketch pads, we found only Squeaky, frantically trying to escape my evil shower that had somehow managed to ensnare him.

7.    How was the offender removed?

After several unsuccessful attempts to trap him in a blanket, and after my disastrous corral attempt, which resulted in being reduced to a puddle of pain on the floor, Jeffrey trapped our poor, exhausted Squeaky in a large cardboard box, slid another piece of stiff cardboard over the opening, ran the contraption back out to the deck, put it down, and removed the makeshift lid.  Since I was still on the floor, groaning over my back, I missed the happy sight of Squeaky disappearing into the night, but Jeffrey assured me that it happened.

8.    How has this experience affected your life?

I have fallen in love with screens.  Any window or door that does not have one should remain tightly closed.

Have a pleasant, bat-free weekend.

From Louise