For Christmas, years ago, one of my sisters recieved a book

on cat psychology. Or psychiatry. Either way, I could use it now. I think Puxa is suffering from post-traumatic feline stress disorder.

Of course, I'm fine. I've painted my nails three times since the shooting started at 7:00 pm, and I'm now eating a half-batch of brownies that I threw in the oven just long enough to cook the egg but not long enough to set. It's like hot fudge with just a hint of crust. Eaten with a spoon in the corner of the kitchen as I hit the record button on my cellphone from time to time to catch a really intense crossfire...it might not be the most effective way to relax, but it's cheaper and more accessible than Prozac...

In addition to the cat's erratic sprints from one end of the house to the other, her jungle demon screams that pass for meows, and toxic gas (or feces; I haven't yet figured out if it's nervous farting or just really stinky poop): in addition to all this, I found her playing with a small metal object on the floor last night. The minute I heard the clink, I knew what it was. And kind of stood there, shocked, while I tried to figure out how exactly a bullet had landed in my house. Yes. She is playing ball with a irregularly squashed and heavy lead bullet. Now, seeing as there are no holes in my walls and I find it difficult to imagine that it slipped in through the open window, turned the corner, and then dropped harmlessly and silently onto the bedroom floor, I must assume that it is one of Ben's souvenirs from the old house...

Ben, it's mine now. Objects that incite near heart attacks belong to the victims. New rule.

The shootout ended at about 11 pm. Or at least, that's when I went to bed. And nothing woke me up, so either the night was calm, or God was nice to me and let me sleep through it.

Coming over to Jacarezinho this morning, I got to walk past some of the carnage: even more holes in the businesses at the front of Manguinhos, several concrete light and telephone posts needing serious repairs, liters of automobile oil on the road. We're an ecological nightmare. Let's hope and pray that this weekend isn't so active. Those of us who value our lives, who value the lives of others, and who have no desire to live in a video game would like some peace and quiet. But mostly peace.

Sometime, when I'm not so stressed, I'll theologize a little here. As it is, I barely have the energy to write about what happens, so forgive me if my words sometimes come out more cynical and sarcastic than I wanted them to...