Interesting about your interaction with the hobby shop owner. Why do you think he latched onto you so single-mindedly? Was it because you showed an interest in helicopters, and helicopters is the thing he's most interested in out of all the other stuff in his shop, and no one else wanted to talk about them? Or were other people also wanting to talk about helicopters, but he detected in you some deeper helicopter obsession that he related to, or what? Or is it just that you are a much nicer, more interesting and attractive person than you give yourself credit for? I certainly saw evidence of that when we were hiking in the mountains behind your house in Salt Lake, where people would be all over you, like ants on a drop of honey, wanting to talk to you, listen to you, and generally just be with you, even if it meant delaying their hike for half an hour or more. You should go back to the hobby shop some time, to see if he instantly gravitates to you again, and starts right up again where he left off, or if the whole thing was just a one-time oddity and he doesn't even remember you. Maybe he was on bath salts. If you had stayed just a few minutes later, you would have found yourself tied up in the back room, while he hovered radio powered helicopters armed with razor blades, around your helpless, writhing body.
Helicopters, huh? Reminds me of a student I taught once who had a touch of autism, or something. He was fascinated by elevators, and was interested in pretty much nothing else. He would make all kinds of drawings and diagrams showing different kinds of elevators, and was only interested in reading technical material about elevators. I wish I could say he went on to become a great world-renowned authority on elevators, but he lost his elevator obsession somewhere in high school, and became interested in record players and speakers. The last time I saw him -- he's probably 22 years old now -- he was trying to cobble together an income as some kind of audio technician, but it didn't seem to be going very well.
I am thinking about your concern not to do violence to the mice that share the house with you, which I probably sound sarcastic about, but I actually do admire it. But now I'm going to say some more stuff that sounds sarcastic, unfortunately..... Maybe you should become a Jain. That is a person who practices an ancient Indian religion called Jainism. I think it's already a sign that your sister is named Jane, which surely is no coincidence in the grand, eternal scheme of things. The Jains believe a lot of stuff, but one fundamental belief is that all living beings, down to micro-organisms, I think, have a soul, and it is important not to do violence to any of them. They are, of course, vegetarians. When they walk in the streets, they have a little broom that they use to constantly sweep the ground where they are about to walk, to make sure they don't step on a bug or something. That's what I've heard, anyway. Just to be helpful, I just did a google seach for "Jainism Lake Tahoe," to see if there is a nearby Jainism temple you could attend. Unfortunately, the closest hit was for a Lake Tahoe resident named Jain McClain. She is a "fine art advisor," which apparently means you go to her and tell you a little about yourself and what kind of art you like, then she goes out and buys some art for your house, for a fee. I guess it's primarily for people who just built a new macmansion, and they're looking at the thousands and thousands of square feet of blank wall space, decorated only by a few velvet paintings and a couple of Thomas Kincaide prints, and they say, "You know what? We need some more god damned art around this place. But we're too busy making money for that kind of shit. What should we do?" So they call Jain McClain.
At any rate, your mouse trap doesn't sound dumb, since it actually does catch mice. But maybe it only catches the dumb ones. If that's the case, then it's nice of you to feed those dumb mice to the animals that live a mile from your house, who are probably pretty hungry after a long winter.
--edward
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