Houston, we have a problem...Life on Mars looks eerily familiar.

I finally have internet again!!!!!! Woo-HOO!!! I feel as though I have regained the land of the living. I have reentered the human race after a period of involuntary seclusion. First things first: Don't worry, mother, the motel wasn't that bad. Or maybe it was, but hey, I'm a librarian, I don't scare easy. (Too easy, anyway.) Annelise, maybe for our next adventure we should run away and join the circus? We could probably adapt pretty easily now. No, I didn't meet Jack Nicholson. If I had, I would have asked him if he knew Johnny Depp, and if so, could I get a meet and greet. Thanks, Mr. O'Keefe, I have a Nikon D80. Don't listen to anyone who says Canon is superior to Nikon. Yeah, I've never been brave enough to even read any Stephen King, so I'll have to take your word on the "book is better than the movie," although that is the way of things 98% of the time. (By the way, I read 'Love Walked In'-GREAT!!! I was reading through going, "Oh, I LOVE that movie!!! Oh, I know exactly which part she's talking about!!!" Thanks for the suggestion!)

So everyone knows that today is Veteran's Day, the day we celebrate the signing of the Treaty of Versailles and pay tribute to all the courageous men and women who have made it possible for us to celebrate whatever we want, however we want. Don't turn blue around the gills yet, this is not going to be a post about the history leading up to the signing of the Treaty, promise. (Although it is interesting to note that, when Hitler's armies conquered some of the more prominent European signers he had the same railway car which had been used in 1918 to house the signing of Germany's surrender dragged into the same location which was now overgrown forest and forced the same countries to sign their own surrender to Germany in the same car in the same spot. Apparently he had a hard time letting things go.) Anyway, it being a bank holiday, the public library was also closed. Glory hallelujah, a day both we and public school are closed, rather than getting the run-off from teacher workdays. With hurricane Ida moving across the state, we're expected to get up to 8 inches of rain today and tomorrow. The wind has been blowing 15-20 miles an hour (literally, no exaggeration, I just looked it up). The high was 57 degrees. Cold. Wet. Windy. I was planning on spending the entire day in a blissfully hygiene deficient shower-less state if I felt like it. I would sit inside by the warm fireplace reading a biography on Nelson Mandela and cheerfully watch the dripping trees outside sway alarmingly in the 15-20 mph winds. Sound good? Yeah, it did to me, too. Instead, after an insomniac night, the phone rings verrrrry early. Rings persistently, in fact. I figured it was one of two groups, a random political call (of which have been calling at the crack of dawn from some unknown reason) or the American Red Cross, who calls me in an obsessive stalkerish way, as my blood type has an O at the beginning. (The only thing is, these little vampires don't have perfectly tousled hair and a 'Oscar-winner' style moody gaze. ) I let the other 'party' hang up, only to be awakened again half a second later by more persistent ringing. "I just gave blood!!!!" I screamed at the phone. I dragged myself across the floor and picked up the receiver "Whaaatt?!" I whined. No, really, I put on my Mrs. Ha-Wiggins voice and answered as professionally as possible in my near-comatose state. Good thing too, it was a summons for a substitute teaching job. Yes, you read me correctly. Me. Substituting. In Art. Just to prove the universe has a sense of humor.

I got dressed and reported for duty. The first class was third grade. "Ha," I naively though, "I can handle third-graders." No, my friends; there is a sixth sense among the little darlings. It sniffs out fear like a blood hound. As they meandered in, spotted a face they didn't recognize, put two and two together in the most mercenary of fashions, their faces lit up with a maniacal gleam. Sharks smelled blood and my life was at stake. Have you ever seen grey-hounds sprint out of the gate after one of those synthetic rabbits? That's how fast order spiraled into anarchy. I might as well have handed out the Elmer's glue and invited them to stick their noses in, just to add a little more hyperactivity to the scene. Suddenly, from the dark recesses of the Caves of Lascaux my ears detected amongst the din a horrible, soul-piercing wail of agony. "Lord, if I never get anything else I ask for, just grant me this: please let all body parts be in their correct state of attachment." Turns out it was Caesar the turtle in a mortal state of sideways-ness. He had gotten himself in a 'tight spot' in the mulch and his stumpy little appendages couldn't reach the bottom to right himself. I did a search and rescue for Caesar and got a standing ovation accompanied by tearful expressions of gratitude. (Okay, well, maybe not, but one little man did express his approval by "Dude, that was awesome!") Not wanting to potentially pick up the swine flu from Caesar, I promptly washed my hands. I turned to the paper towel dispense and searched vainly for a release lever. And searched. And searched. Searched until some tender hearted juvenile took pity on the poor out-dated substitute and surreptitiously waved a small hand over the motion sensor. I sheepishly took my paper towel and quickly dried my hands.

45 minutes later I traded 3rd graders for 4th graders. I nearly teared up as I watch them tromp out; it was like watching the men you survived the muddy trenches of France with be reassigned to a different regiment. 4th grade descended. The carousel of irony began to turn once again. The accompanying theme song of "Don't draw on yourself." "All on art on paper only, please." "Take that out of your nose!" "Don't touch the person next to you, please!" "No, you can't release Caesar into the wild; especially in weather like this. He's had enough excitement for today." etc., etc. 45 more minutes survived. Lunch, assembly, planning period, steel myself for the last leg of the day's journey. Incidentally, I was on my last leg of just about everything. The 5th graders trooped in. I realized today that I stopped growing in the fifth grade. "Are you the substitute or a new student?" Okay, so they didn't ask, but one child did eventually say, "Where is Mrs. ----?" "She's not coming today." "Are you the substitute?" "Incidentally, yes. Yes, I am." Their looks of incredulity defy description. Want to hear the funniest part of this whole story? I enjoyed it. It was an adventure. Like climbing Mt. Everest without oxygen.