Douglas E. Berry

While Fat Bear Week has come and gone (I'm still on Team Otis) I'm having my own version.

Fat Squirrel Month.

The corner where I work is great for many reasons, one being the large number of trees along the greenway and the small grove on the other side of my corner. These trees are home to a good number of squirrels, and over the past couple of years, I've learned to identify them.

When there's no one to cross, I usually sit quietly and observe. So now is the time when the squirrels are getting ready for what passes for winter here. They are stuffing their cute little faces and packing it on!

Right now, Black Bart appears to be in the lead, being a chonk of an inkblot squirrel. Right behind him is Tweaker, so named because he acts like he just smoked all the meth. Despite still racing up and down trees for no apparent reason, he is putting on some mass. Finally, we have Squirrel Judy, who sits on her branch and scolds everyone in range of her voice. She chitters at me, the crows, other squirrels, and especially at families who leave the school near the end of my shift, interrupting her Eat What The Kids Dropped time.

But there is a new contender, and he's not a squirrel I know! I've only spotted him a few times, but he had a very distinctive white streak in his fur along the line where squirrel fur goes from bark-grey to tan or orange. I've named him the Phantom for his vanishing act. He appears to be getting enough food to move up in the rankings if I spot him more often to be sure.

You tax dollars at work, and all squirrel genders are assumed.

Goddamnit. I cannot, literally cannot take much more. Yesterday morning at work, I found out it was a minimum day from a student. When I went into the school office at the end of that shift to confirm this, the secretary said that she had meant to "drive around and hand you all this" "This" being a little yellow notice that was sent home yesterday. "But I got busy."

Halford wept. On a normal day, I arrive at 1345 and am on station until 1515. The school releases kids in two sets, one at 1425, the second at 1437. On a minimum day, I arrive at 1300 and stay for one hour. The entire school releases at 1325. If a very cool 10-year-old hadn't told me about the change, I would have shown up after everyone had gone home. My school has four guard positions because it is one of the most dangerous in the district in terms of traffic. I gave the secretary my boss' phone number and suggested that if another scheduling change came up, the best bet was to call him and he would alert the guards as well as have it on his radar should a relief guard be needed.

Speaking of which. . . I got home, sat down at the computer, and started feeling miserable. Full-body shaking, I could feel the fever climbing, I could barely work my phone to call in for the afternoon shift. I eventually managed to get into the bedroom without falling over. Long story short? One ruined t-shirt and pair of shorts, I continue to be an expert at puking into containers and spent nearly 14 hours in some form of sleep.

Ah, sleep, perchance to dream. This brings me to the Nightmare. Getting bugs like this is second nature to me now, and I know what to treat them. Acetaminophen, fluids, and rest. But when I go to sleep, I get the same damn dream every time. The details change, but the basic plot is I am involved in a land dispute, usually in England, that is wrapped in Byzantine layers of old deeds and surveyors' maps. I have no idea why I want this land, and it's one of those dreams where I know I'm dreaming, and keep thinking "If I just stop looking at the broken marble column, it will end." This one at least featured a duel. Turns out I'm a pretty good fencer!

But I finally woke up this morning and began to process what Kirsten had told me the night before. Our new trailer arrived, and not only did the dimshit delivery driver manage to cause significant damage, HE HAD BEEN SLEEPING IN OUR TRAILER AND LEFT HIS DIRTY CLOTHES BEHIND! The bracket that holds the front wheel is bent, the wires that link the trailer lights to the truck's lights had been cut clear through, and worst of all, he did enough damage to the brand new floor that it goes through the floorboards. We are livid. We are talking about getting a lawyer. This is the same idiot who "forgot" to get the envelope with the trailer keys out of his truck when he had what he said was an engine problem and had to transfer our trailer to a different carrier.

I'm serious, world, I can not handle anything else going wrong.

So I know most of you consider me a pretty smart guy. I'm not going to say you're wrong, but this morning I had a brain fart so amazing I have to share it.

Part of my pre-work routine is taking my 32oz Hydroflask, dropping a Nuun tablet in, and filling it with water. I then put it on our little kitchen island next to my mask, keys, and phone )already in the belt clip) so I can get out the door quickly.

Well, this morning I was ready to go and went for my stuff when I noticed that the lid of the HydroFlask wasn't on the bottle. Confused, I began a search. Now, our apartment is very small, and the area I had been operating in is less than 100 sq ft. But I could not find the damn thing. Needing to get out the door I grabbed another lid from my growler and figured nobody would notice that my tan bottle suddenly had a black lid.

Fast-forward (at speeds ranging from 25 to 35 mph) and I'm at the school. I get out and reach into my pocket to get my keyring so I can clip the truck key back on. . . and my hand encounters something unexpected. Yup. The lid for my water bottle. What in the Abyss caused me to put it in my pocket, I'll never know.

But yeah, smart guy means when my brain skips the grooves, it's spectacular!

Well, I'm not working until mid/late August when the school year starts, and me being me, I'll keep right on waking at 0630 despite turning the alarm off.

Which means I'll be awake, dressed, and coherent by 0700 most days. Now, there are a ton of things to get done around here; delayed cleaning, getting Darby's 60k service done, things like that, I have a plan to better utilize those hours where I'd normally be standing on a corner with a stop sign.

0730-0900 and 1100-1230 are now my writing times when I put everything else aside and do something related to producing written content. It could be playing with Scrivener, doing actual research for a project, writing stream-of-consciousness pieces, or producing actual works that I want people to feel are worth paying for.

Getting that rhythm is important. and once school is back in session, I can adjust the hours to conform with my (hopefully) longer breaks between shifts in the 21-22 school year.

So look for some content in the next week. And please, PLEASE, give feedback for good or ill. The only way I grow as a writer is by hearing what works and more importantly, what doesn't.

I'm in a weird mind space right now, as it's a week to the Crossing Guard pre-school meeting, and I'm waiting on the tax refund to start looking at getting new dentures, so I'm bored and antsy at the same time.

Or as I described it to kshandra, "I'm eight years old and it's a week until Christmas. Except I have access to beer."

There's a thing starting on Twitter calling for people to draw their D&D character wearing their player's current clothing.

I can't draw for shit, but I love the image of Tusker, my half-orc Paladin of Bane, wearing my crossing guard uniform with a stop sign tied to his glaive.

I imagine that Tusker would show little restraint in dealing with crosswalk blockers. . .

"Foul spawn of Honda! Bane has declared that the limit line is at the stop sign, which is behind you, and now you impede the path of those I've sworn to protect! Feel the wrath of the Tyrant!"

So, that's 1d10+4 slashing, plus 1d8 radiant, and I'm going to burn a spell slot for Improved Divine Smite, adding another 5d8. . .

It was 31°F when I got to work this morning, while helps to explain the 1,146 steps I took between 0730 and 0745. Move or die! But I was able to get scientific confirmation that spring is coming! I did this by noting the angle of the sun during my shift.

There are two very tall pine trees on the grounds of Scott Lane School that stand about due South East of my post at Scott and Cabrillo. For much of the late fall and winter, those pines have been blocking the rising sun. As any sun on a cold morning can help, I stared at these trees with dark thoughts of chainsaws and wild attack beavers in my mind. For a week or so, the sun was rising almost directly between the trees, as seen from my point, creating a narrow sliver of early light I could bask in by standing in just the right spot on the sidewalk. I'm sure that shaft of light hitting my hi-vis safety vest dazzled a few drivers, but I didn't care. As I'm not allowed to cut down one of the trees near me for a bonfire, I'll take my heat any wat I can get it.

I never even got to the point where I explained the importance of dancing naked around the fire. No burning trees! So intolerant. I'd have kept the safety vest on!

But anyway, this morning was the first really clear morning we've had in a few weeks, and I was pleased to see that the sun is now rising a bit to the north of these trees, and letting me get sunlight right on my corner. Bang, there you go: observational proof of the Earth's Axial tilt taken over a period of many weeks by yours truly.

For my next trick, I'll discover a means of accurately measuring longitude while at sea.

I need to get involved in my city government. Because I, a citizen, wish to petition for a redress of grievances.

In short, I need a crosswalk built. Take a look at this map.



I'm at the corner of Scott and Cabrillo. You can see I have a nice crosswalk on Cabrillo. I do pretty good business, during our annual census, I averaged 55-60 students a day, plus parents, younger kids along for the walk, etc.

But you will notice there is no crosswalk across Scott at my corner. This is a problem because the nearest legal crossings are at Monroe (top of the map) and Royal (at the bottom of the map.)

Add in that my school has a large number of immigrant parents, so I'm facing linguistic and cultural barriers. Which leads to the problem.

Epic jaywalking. Over a dozen that I see (I'm usually facing another direction to watch for pedestrians to cross) and Halford knows how many I miss.

Because it's simply ridiculous for a family coming up Cabrillo on the far side of Scott to have to walk that far out of the way to cross the street. So they risk it. I'm seeing mothers with four or five pre-school and school-aged children trying to get across Scott.

And Scott is dangerous. It's a major commuter route for some of the Valley's heavy hitters. Which means that one in three drivers is distracted. Trust me, I see it every single morning.

It's just a matter of time before some techie is reading a text and not watching the road.

I really don't want to have to call ion a vehicle-pedestrian incident.

So, what I'm going to pitch is an uncontrolled school crosswalk (the ones with the yellow bars, like I have) across Scott on the southside of Cabrillo. There's already a ramp cut on the far side, they'd just need to cut one on my side and repaint. This would cut about 8' off the left turn lane from NB Scott to WB Cabrillo.

Now I just need to figure out where to start? My council rep? The District?

The funny thing is I'd be making more work for myself, along with getting a partner to work the far side. But it'll be worth it. If anyone is curious as to why I'd need a partner, ask and I'll explain in the comments.

This morning was magical. I go on duty at 0730 and ten minutes later two motorcycle units pull up at the opposite curb, and the LIDAR guns come out. Within 30 seconds each of them had a speeder lit up.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Easily a dozen stops for each of them in the hour-plus they were there. Call it an hour fifteen, as they both left just as I was getting ready to go off-shift.

The best part is they nailed one of my chronic stop sign runners. This dude barely taps the brakes if he thinks he can make it across Scott Blvd. Today, one of the officers watched him the whole way. Had him lit up before he made it all the way across.

What was funny is I saw the Waze Effect from an outside observer's standpoint. Normally, northbound traffic on Scott races at that hour. Forget the school zone limit, these morons can barely keep it below the posted 35 mph limit. But about ten minutes after the officers are on scene, suddenly, all the traffic on Scott is meeking motoring along at the limit. Somebody must have tagged the cops on Waze, and enough people use it to cause a slowdown.

I wish I could have them every day.

Today was a "maximum traffic enforcement" day in Santa Clara. Which meant a full-court press going after speeders, unsafe drivers, seat belt and phone violators, among other things. The enforcement teams targeted expressways, major thoroughfares, and . . . school zones. :)

This morning, I had a pair of Sheriff's deputies lurking on Los Padres. They snagged three red light runners. Two of whom drove right past the uniformed officers on the big motorcycles that scream HI! I'M THE FUZZ!

But this afternoon was the best. Two SCPD motor officers set up a LIDAR station on Saratoga. In the one hour we were all there, they caught several speeders, one of whom had, wait for it, outstanding warrants. All for exceeding the 25mph limit in a marked school zone during the active school time. (Which is one hour before and after the first and last bells.)

Oh, school zone? Fines are doubled. So all of the folks stopped this afternoon are going to be paying between $479 and $766 in fines and fees when all is said and done. Not to mention either taking a point on their licenses or paying for traffic school. The guy with the warrants? Along with dealing with those, he's going to be paying for the towing and impound lot fees.

People, if you can see a school, and it is between 0700 and 1500, assume that school zone rules are in effect. Slow to 25mph and be extra vigilant. Many school zones now have a flashing yellow light on the sign to warn you what is coming.