I freely admit that Thursday night class is my least favorite because it involves Photoshop use (CS5 for those who care) and lessons. I am not computer challenged, but computers and I don’t always jive, so Photoshop is definitely a challenge for me. It was better than yesterday, though. Yesterday, in Design class, all we did was listen to a fascinating presentation for an hour and a half and then spent the next hour and fifteen minutes going through homework presentations. Did I mention how we did not even learn new material so we could be prepared to do our homework for next week? Did I mention that some of my classmates ramble worse than the readings for 2322 do and took up way too much time for talking about 3 PowerPoint slides? No, we don’t need to click a link and watch a 10 minute video that some fool embedded into his presentation because he knew how distracting it would be. We need to have a rhythm established and get the hell through these presentations.
After I ate dinner with my dad (chicken patties and carrot cake- yum!), I drove out and headed for Alma so I could take the Bush service road to the college. As I was turning left, I looked ahead to the street and swore I saw a huge rock which looked suspiciously turtle-like.
Well, I took a better look as I drove by and sure enough, it was a box turtle poking its head out on the white curve of the lane marker. I pulled over where it was safe to do so, put on my flashing hazard lights, and crawled out of the driver’s seat into the passenger’s seat so I could exit the car of the side away from traffic. I watched for red lights so I could be sure no one else was approaching in my direction (the speed limit over there is 55 miles an hour) and ran to the turtle when it was safe. The turtle hissed at me, but I scooped him up anyway and got back into the car and drove off before the traffic light turned green.
At the college, I tracked down the Tech Help students and asked for a cardboard box for my turtle. I rinsed the turtle off in the bathroom sink before class because it was way dirty and had a stick stuck under its chin. It hung out in the box while I learned Photoshop skills, and once class was out, I took him back to my car and we headed home. I left my manfriend a message on his phone to call me back since he was bowling; when I brought the turtle home to my apartment, the turtle was pretty damn grouchy. I gave him a baby-tub of water to chill out in while I tried to explain to my dad why I had a turtle in the apartment.
We took the turtle to a nearby park, but only after my father and my manfriend mildly scolded me for risking my life for a turtle. The turtle seemed pleased; at least now he is living in an area with an immediate water source. I gave it a grape to eat before we left the apartment, but all the turtle did was keep the grape in its mouth and not eat it.
And yes, of course I risked my life for a turtle. My mother did this a number of times when I was growing up. We pulled the car over a couple times to save a turtle and released them in the exact same park the manfriend and I went to tonight. I remember her telling me (through tears) how horrified she was one time when she was unable to make it to a turtle in time, and some horrible truck tore down the road and smashed the turtle before her eyes. She said the crunch noise was the most horrific noise she ever heard in her life.
This is why I pulled over. God put me on that service road at that moment in time for a reason, and I know it was to save that turtle. So I said a quick prayer before I got out of my car and ran like hell. And I have to say, the adrenaline rush from saving that turtle was pretty awesome.