I was walking home from school today and there was a homeless camp on the path. There was a tent and a dead campfire and chickens! Chickens in a pen. The chickens had masks on. Tiny chicken masks. And then the homeless person came out and she said "Hi! Time to feed the chickens."

I asked her "Why do your chickens wear masks?"

And she said "Because they're afraid to tell the future by themselves. Come by tomorrow and you can see them do it."

So I told her I would.

I watched the chickens tell the future today. I dropped by the chicken lady's camp and she was waiting for me.

She said "Are you ready to see the chickens tell the future?"

Usually if a stranger asks you if you want to see something you've never seen before, it's a bad idea to go along with it. Whether they're homeless or not. But the chicken lady was camped up the path far enough that she had to be a little psychic at least. Because regular people can't find it. So I already felt like we had an understanding.

I said "Sure."

The chicken lady let the chickens out of the pen, with their little masks on. They were like little luchadores, because they had little holes for their eyes and beaks and they were very brightly colored.

She said "It makes them feel powerful. Like they are channeling the energy of their gods."

I think she was talking about the masks.

She tossed out handfuls of chicken feed on the dirt and said "When the chickens have the right energy they are capable of anything."

We watched the chickens peck for awhile. Furiously. Like a cartoon of a woodchuck chucking wood on turbo. Then they all looked at each other and nodded and ran back to their pen.

The chicken lady waved me to come closer to the dirt where they ate. There, drawn out with fine lines of chicken feed on the ground, was a picture. A pointillist masterpiece. There was shadow and form and human figures in a park near a forest, I think.

Then the chicken lady stomped it out with her feet and said "Looks like it's going to be a good day tomorrow."

That seemed to be the end of the show. I said "Thanks!" and left.

I felt like I should take the bus home today instead of waking. Mostly because I thought it could be uncomfortable to walk past the chicken lady again. Would I need to stop and make small talk? Was I invading her space? Better to just avoid it.

The bus is always late. Which, if you think about it, is sort of impossible. To *always* be late? No matter what time you get there? For everybody?

So I waited on the rolling lawn a little ways above the bus stop, where you can see the bus coming from a long ways out. It was a beautiful day, a cool breeze coming out of the woods that butted up against the lawn, summer school kids playing on the grass, like it was a park, like it was exactly the same scene as in the picture the chickens pecked out in the dirt yesterday....

A voice behind me said "Carol?"

It was Ms. Amadria, the translocation teacher. She asked if I could babysit her two kids on Saturday. For $50!

I said yes. And the chicken lady was right about today turning out to be a good one.

Summer school at Psyhigh is a lazy time of year. There's remedial classes for students who flunked a course (Guilty! It was Predestination 301, but I think the teacher was just trying to make a point), and students doing "private study" (Also guilty! Trying to push my GPA as high as I can), and a skeleton crew of staff and groundskeepers. I'm friends with @Janitor Pete, who gave me the tip to stay out of lower campus today due to some kind of mutant animal altercation.

So I hung out near Deju Vu Park (I'm calling it now) and waited for the bus. Still wasn't ready to see the chicken lady, even after yesterday. But am psyched for my babysitting gig tomorrow! I hear Ms. Amadria's house is awesome. And $50! Can't wait.

I'm afraid I'm still babysitting. Ms. Amadria's kids, Carmen and Lupita, wanted to play hide and seek, and I didn't understand the layout of the house at all. Ms. Amadria really should have mentioned it's an extensive Villa Paranormale in the classic style, and at this point we're so deep inside and turned around I think we need to take a break. Banquet room after Library after Conservatory after Piazza after Game Room after I don't know what. Found Lupita (5) first, and she helped me find Carmen (7) and I assumed they'd know their way back. Or maybe they do and they're just not telling me. Either way the $50 is seeming less and less like a deal.

So we found a big bedroom with three giant canopy beds. Even pajamas in the drawers that smell fresh. And a window to open. So we're calling it a night. Good thing I have my charger.

After a long day of wandering through foyers, rooms, and balconies, we heard a table being set and dinner being served down the hall. Carmen and Lupita tore off ahead of me, anxious to see their mother. I'd assumed.

Carmen and Lupita cried out "Auntie Minerva!!!"

Auntie Minerva answered back "Carmen! Lupita! How nice to see you!"

Her full name is Minerva Queen of Mystery. It turns out she and Ms. Amadria had gone in on the Villa Paranormale together (Minerva said "Oh there's no way any of us could afford a place like this on our own, honey") along with a bunch of friends from the Academic Magicians Women's Union, including Nadia-Nadyr, Suzy Vernay, Princess Yvonne, Talma Queen of Coins, and Myrnella Montague the Memory Lady. They've got homes all over the world (and beyond) but they're all connected in the one big Villa Paranormale.

I asked "So you can tell me how to get back to Ms. Amadria's part of the house?"

Turns out it's not quite that easy, as the floor plan changes with the etheric tides. And the regular tides. All that moon and magic pulling at a house that stretches like silly putty taking shortcuts through space. The ooey gooey middle doesn't stay in one place much.

Minerva lives outside of Mexico City. We called Ms. Amadria and she assures me it will be fine, and that why should we buy plane tickets when we've got MAGIC? and that eventually the house will take pity on us and land us back where we belong, and for tonight we should have dinner and sleep at Minerva's and have a nice breakfast before moving on.

It was one of those dancing tea cup and singing candlestick holder kind of dinners.

I'm definitely asking Ms. Amadria for a bonus.

We were well rested, well breakfasted, and even sent off with sandwiches wrapped in wax paper from Minerva, Queen of Mystery.

She left us with the instructions "Just keep heading... that-a-way," as she pointed down a long hall. "I don't go down that one much--it must be a way into the interior."

We walked for hours through the interior of the interior of the Villa Paranormale. A swiss cheese wormhole of a mansion that Minerva, Ms. Amadria, and at least five of their friends all jointly own. Seven different houses, all connected through lavish hallways and parlors and forgotten wings. And me with Ms. Amadria's two kids in tow, which was supposed to be just a quick evening of babysitting and $50 in my pocket. Instead, we've spent days already wandering through this...mansion? Palace? It's almost like a museum.

The guard appeared from behind a side door. He was still adjusting his cap and belt when he said "Uh... Can I help you?" I think he was asleep in a chair.

I was so glad to see him. "Yes! Do you work here? Can you get us back to Ms. Amadria's rooms as soon as possible?"

He didn't look so sure. He pulled out a laminated map, then excused himself to talk on his walkie-talkie in the next room. Finally he returned "Ah! Absolutely simple! The easiest thing! Walk this way!"

We followed him for a long way. At least a couple more hours. Finally he checked his map and said "Right through there, ladies!"

"Thank you sir!" Carmen and Lupita sang together, then tore off down the hall. I chased after them and around the corner...

The girls cried "Aunt Suzie!!!!"

Aunt Suzie said "And what a wonderful surprise! Merveilleux! Magnifique! My little darlings!"

And that's how it turned into another night on the road.

Tonight was spicy meatballs with Myrnella Montague, the Memory Lady.

Carmen and Lupita are pretty good at entertaining themselves, thank god. Otherwise four days straight with them could be a nightmare. Is this what a full-time mom feels like? A stay-at-home mom in a house that never ends?

Maybe we'll get lucky tomorrow.

We just wanted a little outside time.

Carmen and Lupita have been real troopers. So when we came across a conservatory that opened into a garden, we had to go out and enjoy it. We hadn't been in the sun for days, and though we've been served nutritious meals throughout (and sent out with healthy sack lunches each day) kids need to get outside.

I just didn't mean for it to be so far outside.

Lupita started by running deep into the topiary. "Come chase meeeeeee!"

Carmen and I were both glad to have the chance to run, and the grounds were so inviting, and seemed to slope downhill, that we just ran and ran and ran.

Until we weren't sure which way we'd come from.

We walked the gardens for hours, finding walls and following them, then discovering they were't connected to anything. We found reflecting pools, and fountains, and sundials, but no house to return to.

The best we can do for the night is a kind of cabana, near an empty swimming pool. It seems clean, and there are hammocks, and the temperature is perfect. I can't believe how good these kids have been--no complaining, no fighting. If you grow up with this kind of thing you don't let it get to you, I guess.

Hangry. It finally hit the kids. Ok it hit us all.

We had enough brie and baguettes to last us through yesterday and the night. But by this morning the scraps were stale and Carmen and Lupita started to bicker. Soon our endless garden walk became a rhythm of tantrums and silences and make-up time and talking which soon turned into bickering and the cycle started again. And, yes, I was drawn into it here and there. You can't help it! Have you ever baby sat?

It began to get a bit scary that we no longer had a food source. Myrnella Montague's meatballs were gross, frankly, as were her green beans. But at least they were food.

By sundown things were desperate. Lupita pulled out handful of plastic pirate coins from her pocket. Like you'd get in some lame plastic pirate birthday gift bag.

Lupita said "I want corn dogs!"

Around the hedge, we heard the plaintive cry of the corn dog man.

This must be my lucky day, I figured.

Where was the chicken lady when you needed her?