Wow, that was close...

OK, that baby possum (who's getting bigger every day) almost gave me a heart attack last night! In all fairness, I almost gave him one, too.

I opened the kitchen door to drop some papers into the recycle bin. The possum (who I've named Opie Jr., after Opie, his mama) was hanging halfway over the edge, about a foot away from my hand. When I opened the door, the sensor light went on, illuminating him and all his gray furriness. The light scared him, the movement scared me, and we both jumped back in horror.

Poor little guy was stuck, trying to get out of the bin, and I was trying to shut the door before he came scurrying inside. It was mass confusion.

He finally made it over the edge and outta there in a hurry. I slammed the door, and whispered a bad word. In the silence, I could hear my heart going a hundred miles an hour -- it was, as Mark would say, bleating fast.

I like animals, I really do, but I'm more for saving wildlife than recycling it.

Gimme a P, gimme a T, gimme an AAAAA!

The transformation from "irresponsible Heather" to "active, involved mother" is now complete--I hit the final milestone last night when I attended my first-ever PTA meeting.

It was everything I thought it would be--a library full of moms who took this stuff very seriously. They were friendly, welcoming me in, and they were right on task--one woman even rang a bell every time somebody strayed too far from the topic at hand. (Man, I wish I had a bell like that at work!)

We reviewed the budgets from last year and for this year, and all the coming events and fundraisers. We discussed the priorities for this year (academic enrichment programs and 5th grade camper scholarships), and how to fund them. They had their own lingo, and I felt like people must feel when I start spouting off diabetes terms--a little glazed over, like "I'm not sure what you're saying, but you sound pretty smart."

It was all over my head, but I felt happy to be included. I listened to the carefully-worded phrases encouraging us to pass each motion, and I mumbled "Aye" every time they said, "Those in favor, say 'Aye.'" (And I resisted the impulse to shout "Nay!" just to shake things up a little.)

This being the first meeting of the year, it ran a little long, and after 90 minutes of sitting in an uncomfortable little wooden chair, I was glad to be dismissed. (OK, no one actually said, "You're dismissed," but that's how it feels when you're in school, student or not.) I felt sorry for Mark, who sits in a similar chair all day long. I sit all day at work, too, but in a fancy mesh chair that swivels and tilts and pretty much does everything but make me coffee.

Afterwards, I walked home, which brings me immeasurable joy. I don't know why I love walking to Mark's school every day, but I do. It makes me feel connected to the community, part of the school and the neighborhood, in a way I never felt when I drove Mark to school in somebody else's neighborhood. I love joining in the stream of kids walking up the block, and I love talking to the funny crossing guard, who worries about things like a little dog that almost got run over. "I tried calling him over here, so that I could cross him at the crosswalk," she told me, and I thought, "Now that is a woman who takes her job seriously." (And thank God for that!)

I was all in a post-PTA-mom glow when I walked up the driveway toward home. But it wasn't Mark who first greeted me at the front porch--it was the baby possum! Luckily, there were no cats around this time, and I was completely unarmed (no SuperSoaker or flashlight), so he let me pass by quietly. I eyed him cautiously (he freaks me out a little), and he eyed me back.

He's cute enough, I guess, but I decided right then that maybe I don't have to be on such close terms with every resident of my neighborhood...

Never a dull moment around our house

Edra came over to do laundry, and reminded me that the chaos of our house is always entertaining.

It started with the kittens from next door. (Still haven't trapped the little suckers--that Houdini is an elusive little kitty!) They were making a ruckus outside, so I opened the front door to check it out. I saw a repeat of the scene about a week ago at 1 in the morning--two kittens and a baby possum scurrying away.

That poor little possum. I don't know what the kittens are thinking. He's about their size but twice as solid, and I'm sure his teeth are much sharper. I know the kittens are curious, and maybe they think he's just a big rat or something, but they keep trapping and tormenting him, and sooner or later, they'll regret it.

Anyway, the door opening scared them all off. But the kittens didn't go far; they didn't want to give up their prey. I grabbed my giant Super Soaker squirt gun, and aimed toward the kittens. The possum ran by me, which freaked me out a little, but he ran toward the kitten's house, which freaked me out even more. I sent that little guy right into the lion's den!

I retrieved my giant blue Mag lite from inside. I scanned the deserted porch next door, searching for the possum. I couldn't see him anywhere, which was a good sign, since that meant he wasn't locked in any tiny kitten jaws. And it was at that exact moment that Edra walked outside and saw me on the front lawn--Super Soaker in one hand, Mag lite in the other, surveying the scene in the dark, in bare feet.

She took one look at me and asked, "What are you doing out here?" I explained about the kittens and the possum, but it sounded stupid, even to me. I realized it was pretty dark out there, I didn't have any shoes on, and there were fuzzy little animals running scared throughout the yard. I also thought that where there's a baby possum, there's probably a mama possum, and I didn't want to tangle with her.

"Guess my work here is done," I told Edra, and headed inside. As I walked back to the front door, a low-hanging palm frond grazed my head, and I jumped about 10 feet--I was still a little on edge. Edra just looked at me and shook her head.