But somehow adventure always finds us. Luckily, they're usually small adventures. None of them merit an entire blog post, but here are a few little vignettes of the funny parts of life.
The Lurie Building
Three years ago, Kevin told me about a building on North Campus with the most beautiful pink blossoms. The next year, we looked forward to seeing them again, but the winter had been so cold they didn't bloom. The next year (last year), we were in Utah when they were blooming, so my friend Michelle took pictures of them for me so I wouldn't miss them entirely.
This year, though, there were no obstacles to me seeing them in their full glory. One Friday morning, I told Kevin I would drive him to campus and then swing by the Lurie Building to see the trees. Right before his building, there was a huge truck that seemed like it was reversing into a garage but was currently stopped in the middle of the road. We were stopped. The car in front of us was stopped. The bus in front of us was stopped. We had no clue what to do.
Eventually, the bus moved over to the other side of the road, and the rest of us followed. But those few minutes of waiting had slightly soured the experience for me, and the trees were not quite as beautiful because of it.
I was determined to see them again (especially since they hadn't fully bloomed yet) so the next Monday I stopped by again on my way back from a museum. This time, a really fancy SUV had pulled up right before I got there and opened all the doors. Some older people stepped out, and some really fancily dressed escorts began pulling wheelchairs out of the trunk for them so they wouldn't have to do much walking once in the building.
I sat there watching for a minute . . . and then another minute . . . and then another minute. I'm here to enjoy the trees! I reminded myself, and glanced occasionally at the beautiful trees bursting with cotton candy pink blossoms. But then I'd look back at that fancy SUV. Why had they left a door open on the driver's side? Could I get past it? Could I reverse out of the circle driveway? Would they be offended and decide to not give their million-dollar donations to the university if I asked if they would please close that door? Eventually I got up my courage and started scooting past. They noticed me moving at a snail's pace, but instead of going to close the door someone just nodded to indicate that there was room. Well, there might have been room, but I wasn't willing to risk hitting that SUV. So I ended up on the curb a little bit, but I made it past. Again, those blossoming trees weren't worth the effort. And I didn't even get a picture in all that time! (Maybe I don't want one since it will trigger too many awkward memories.)
Chipmunks
Kevin got home late that same afternoon. When he came in, I said, "Could you close the door quickly behind you?" He was about to, but there was a little neighbor boy trying to walk in.
"Is the chipmunk still here?"
Kevin immediately understood my request to close the door and I explained what happened.
Joseph and his friends had decided to explore the woods near our house. I was sitting outside talking to friends when he came back to the house nearly sobbing. "Let's go home!" he cried.
"What's the matter?"
"I don't want the witch to get me!"
The boys had apparently convinced themselves (or at least him) that there were witches/bears in the woods. I tried to convince him to go in with me so he wouldn't hold onto a fear of them, but he refused. So into the house we went. I told him that witches weren't real, and that even if they were real they'd be afraid of little boys. Bears were real, but there weren't any in our woods. He had lots of questions about who would be scared of whom and why wouldn't they be scared of little boys or grownups, and I calmly answered them all as I moved the laundry along. Then I went upstairs and stopped midsentence with a yelp. There was a chipmunk in my house! It scurried into the closet and then under the dishwasher. I swung the door open and grabbed one of Joseph's sticks in his porch collection to try to prod it out. No luck.
I rehearsed the Family Proclamation in my head. Whose job was it to preside, provide, and protect? Not mine! And Kevin was still on campus! So I hurried over to my neighbor's house and asked how he felt about getting rid of a chipmunk. He obliged and grabbed his broom. He poked under the dishwasher, but there was no sign of it. Not under the piano, not under the couch, not in the closet. It didn't seem like it could have fit under the door to the basement, so we just assumed it went back outside. He found a chipmunk right outside my door right after that, so that was a good sign.
Even so, I felt a little uneasy that night since I never saw the chipmunk leave the house. (I felt almost as uneasy when I thought about how long that chipmunk might have been in there. Had it come in a few hours earlier when Joseph had left the door open for a few minutes, or had it snuck in the same time as us? Neither made me feel very good.) Each time there was an opportunity to go to the basement, I invited Kevin to go in my place in the off chance that it had somehow made it down there. Out of curiosity we got our stuffed animal chipmunk out and started leaving it around to see if the other of us would get startled, but it never worked.
Given that it's been more than a week, we've seen a chipmunk run into a neighbor's house (presumably the same brazen little guy), and we don't smell dead chipmunk (which we have smelled before in our dryer vent), I think we're safe. But I always keep the door closed.
(Funny side note . . . Joseph loves his Snow White books right now. But it seems like the combination of scary woods, witches, and indoor chipmunks would not be a good hit at our house.)
Well, it looks like these mini adventures have become longer than expected. But don't worry. There are more to share. It's how we roll.
Is there a reason I don't know about why we should be worried about chipmunks in the house? Also, I can't believe it got in!!!!
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