I could spend the next few paragraphs explaining to you why I have been MIA- and I will tell you a few stories later because they are funny- but I’m not going to dwell on it because I really hate when bloggers do that. The truth is I got busy and things got crazy and blah blah blah because you all get it.

Anyway, today is my birthday and I am 28- yup that is my story and I am sticking to it. I could totally pass for 28- most days- hey I still get carded for alcohol like a lot. I very happily hand over my ID with a “yes you may and aren’t you a wonderful person.” The best response I get to that is when people are like “well we have to card anyone who looks under 30” – I will take that, because the truth is that today I am 35 and I am a little depressed about it. No matter how many people say that 30 is the new 20 (and seriously don’t you want to smack those people?) it’s still closer to 40 than 30- so you know that makes me a bit sad.

But in most ways I so do not feel like I am 35- I think it’s because I spent my 20’s in grad school. When most people were starting their careers I was still putting on a backpack and walking across the quad to class- ok I still do this now but with a nicer bag and better shoes- but still in reality I am only four years into my career. Of course I never really feel out of place because of that because all of my friends are in the same place- but I do tend to feel it keenly when my birthday approaches and my doctor tells me that any pregnancy after this birthday will be considered high risk because of my age- ouch that hurts.

But I feel better this year than I have in a long while- I have been working out with cardio and weights and bending into impossible positions in yoga and getting into shape- which does not make me feel old (except when my husband says that my weights are “wussy” and makes me add some more and I cannot feel my arms for the rest of the day). So maybe this birthday will not be too bad at all- I am looking forward to some sushi and drinks for dinner and the german chocolate cake my husband made me. I am very excited about that cake people. And of course presents.

I promise to write more when life calms down- oh who am I kidding life will not calm down until this kid is in college- so you know when I have time and stuff!

Also it is Aunt Becky’s Birthday as well- great company and all!

So I hit a wall in my workout routine. I don’t mean I stopped doing it or haven’t been sore.  What I mean is that all this physical activities is bringing up a bunch of emotional stuff I totally didn’t expect. As I have said before I am not an overly emotional wallowing kind of person. I know that I have emotions and that they are totally normal and stuff- I just don’t like to deal with them all that much. I’m the kind of person who really is not cool with a hug from someone who is not related to me or been my friend for multiple years. All of this is kind of weird considering my hippie parents and their openness about emotions- often my punishment was to discuss why I did something wrong- say coming home past my curfew instead of just being grounded like a normal person. And I mean this was a punishment for me, not my parents.

Maybe the problem is that I feel things too deeply and I would prefer to push it down rather than sort it through. This is probably not the healthiest way to work through issues- but it’s what I do. And most of the time I do this by making myself so busy that I do not have time to sit and think or feel. If I don’t have time for it, then I don’t have to deal with it. But now I am walking on a treadmill five days a week and for some reason no matter which one I chose I am always next to the TV tuned to the Fox new channel- I think Glen Beck may be following me- he’s somehow found out about the smack I have been talking about him. And while my music is a welcome distraction my mind tends to wonder and ruminate. And I was totally not ready for what that brings up, the other day I almost burst into tears right there in the middle of the YMCA. What. The. Hell?

I’ve noticed that the pain of my miscarriage has almost been worse since April because now I think “I should have a baby right now.” And while I would probably be sleep deprived and covered in spit-up I would be so happy. But I am not there- and I am not entirely or always happy. I am also not pregnant again- for the third month. This probably does not sound like a long time and I will probably get some bad juju from saying this- but the two times I have been pregnant it happened the first month- so now my anxiety is just growing- even though I know that it shouldn’t. But below everything is my fear that I will not be able to have another child. And while I am so grateful for my daughter I do want more children and I am not getting any younger- in less than a month I will be 35. Although I will tell you that the other day I was totally carded for some wine and the checkout kid was like “we have to card anyone who looks under 30” and I wanted to run away with him forever.

I know that I need to calm the fuck down and learn to somehow deal with my inner control freak type A personality but I would like to do this without a shitload of Xanax. I mean I love Xanax when I have to fly because you would never get me into a plane without one of those things- but I don’t want to have to use it on a regular basis. So I have turned to an old standby- yoga. I have started taking a yoga class twice a week- which I have been really enjoying. I have done yoga off and on for like the last 6 years- but everything has been self taught through books and DVD’s. This may be the way that I taught myself to knit- but it probably was not the best way to learn something like yoga. So now I am taking a class and really after two weeks I am in love. It’s so calm and peaceful and not at all pretentious and crazy like some yoga studios because this is a class at the Y- so I totally do not feel self-conscious about my left over baby gut (and yes I am totally away that my baby is 2). I am hopeful that all of this will help me not only get into some better physical shape which will help the baby thing I think- but also maybe help with some of the emotional things I am loathe to actually face.

But right now my mom is in town which is awesome because she totally gets up with the bug and tells me to go back to bed and get some more sleep because I look tired. Got to love the grandma- except for all the sugar that she is loading the bug up with!

So let’s be honest- I will be 35 in July- so the thought that after a good two years of sitting on my ass I could just get right back into working was obviously a misjudgement. But I didn’t think I would be this sore! As you know my fitness plan was derailed by a nasty cold for a week- but this past week- oh I have been so very good. I did cardio four days, Pilates three times and swimming with the bug four days this week- including her first swim lesson.  Now I can barely move. It’s not like I really over did it- I mean I walked on the treadmill and rode a stationary bike for an hour (30 minutes of each) and I didn’t take it too fast because let’s face it I have not really done much besides some yoga for the last couple of years- and I stretched before and after- but oh dear god am I feeling my age this morning. This exercise thing is really making me face my age- and the fact that the bug is getting older as well. Let me explain.

The Y has childcare for members as they work out for $2 an hour- which is awesome because the excuse I have been using for the last two years is- when I have the time to work out I do not have childcare. This totally solved my problem, but I was worried about leaving the bug in a room with some other kids and strangers. I mean the kid has hardly even had babysitters that are not related to her. And she spends her days with her dad and me- so I wondered how she would take being dropped off for an hour. Of course I also hoped this would be good for her, because while I suffer through kindermusic so that she can get some social time in, I thought maybe she was at a point where she needed some more interaction with other kids. But I worried she would cry- or worse be an absolute brat- all while I was walking briskly and trying not to sing Glee songs outloud. But to my surprise she was a perfect angel- seriously the child care ladies loved her and went on and on about what a good girl she was- I thought maybe they should come home and see this kid in action when she refuses to take a nap and then throws her dinner on the dog- not to the dog- on the dog. I warned them when we dropped her off for the first time that she didn’t go to daycare or anything- so if she started to get cranky then they could get me and I would just take her home. But when I came back an hour later with two grubby dollars in my hand the bug was lining up plastic dinosaurs. They went on and on about how good she was, they couldn’t believe that she didn’t go to some sort of outside care because she played with the other kids and totally entertained herself with toys. I was a bit shocked and actually so were they. One nice lady was telling me how most stay at home moms (dude I am not explaining our very complicated situation-) have a very hard time working out because their kids don’t do well in this setting. But not my kid- and the second day she ran into the room without a backward glance at me. Thanks kiddo. Between that and the overwhelming cries of “I do” that I hear all day I think she will be leaving for college soon.

And me- well I am having to face my age as well. As I have laid on the couch and whined to whomever will listen about how sore I am I couldn’t help but think back to a time when I did more than walk on the treadmill for 30 minutes and never had a problem- of course I was 16. I know it is probably hard for you to image me as an athlete- I know. I mean I was never the best but I was fine for high school. I played volleyball and softball- I also did dance and baton twirling ( and yep I twirled fire- it is awesome). And I was in good shape- now 15 years later I have post baby abs and a real reluctance to take the stairs anywhere. In the last few years I have done some yoga and Pilates- but not consistently or hard, so now I am paying the price- even my fingertips hurt. I was reading somewhere (don’t ask me where- I read a lot of stuff I can’t remember it all) that you should think of a goal so that you don’t slack off from working out. Now something I have always wanted to do is learn to run- like really run. I have always wanted to be one of those people who were all “I’m going for a run” but I never have been. Even when I was in good shape I dreaded the Presidential fitness test where I had to run a mile- like seriously dreaded it- because I could never run the full mile.  But my secret wish has always been to be a runner. Maybe that could be a goal for me- I am not sure how to actually do this- but I’m an academic, I’ll read some books!

Have you seen this? I am sure you have but I just had to put it here because it is all kinds of awesome- like Bjork but less crazy- I am so going to Iceland!

http://vimeo.com/12236680

Yep this week has really fallen into the fail category. And I had wonderfully big plans; this was the start of my productive summer. I was going to spend the week really cleaning the house- not just straightening up, like get the cobwebs from the corners of the ceiling clean. I was also going to start my workouts. Last weekend we joined the YMCA, signed the bug up for swim classes and made plans to attend some yoga classes and get my butt in gear to walk the treadmill for a while. I am totally out of shape and need to lose some weight and I have no real excuses except that I am lazy and I have a full-time job and a toddler and no time to get some exercise in and no one to watch the baby while I do it. And the kicker is that if I exercise, if I get myself moving, I can take off weight pretty easily. But I don’t. And this was all going to change this week now that I discovered the Y has child care for $2 an hour- seriously, the bug could get some social time in and I could work out in peace and all it would cost is $2 (for members)? Awesome. I was set; I would start this great plan on Tuesday (because Monday was Memorial Day and thus the Y would be closed.)

But then on Sunday night it started, a scratchy throat, a stuffy nose and a headache- crap I was getting a cold. I had done so very well this semester- I mean I work in what basically amounts to a petri-dish so I know all of the rules- wash hand frequently, do not touch your mouth or eyes and spray student work with Lysol- which is a trick I learned when one of my grad school friends caught scabies from one of her students- seriously scabies. I have also gotten around some of this by having students turn in most assignments electronically-, which is both eco-friendly and battling germs, friendly. But no one tells you how to handle a toddler who wants to kiss you right on the mouth and then licks your face because she is pretending she’s a dog. So then I was down, and now the husband is whining because he has a stuffy nose and oh my god the world may just end because he is acting like he has never, ever had a cold before in his life!!

So we never got to the Y this week- all my plans of better health have been put on hold. And while I know that the other people at the Y are happy I did not spread my plague germs around the treadmill- I am a little disappointed that my plan didn’t work out. I am the kind of person who once I make up my mind to do something I want to do it now. And of course the bug picks this week to go all two year old on me. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was just the week that she decided she was going to push to see just how far she could go- but every little thing set off a temper tantrum of epic proportions which included the throwing of oneself on the ground, the stomping of feet and a high pitched scream that I am pretty sure could wake the dead.  Here just a short list of the world’s transgressions against the bug:

1. Milk failed to be served in the sippy cup of her choice.
2. Her blankie being put in the wash (taking a bath) because it got poop on it.
3. Being told that I would not in fact open a paint can so that she could paint the wall.*
4. The skies pouring down rain while we were outside-making us go inside to avoid hail.
5. The cat not wanting to be pulled somewhere by his tail.
6. Being told “no” in any form but particularly that she could not pull off the safety plugs in an outlet.
7. Her trains obeying the laws of magnetism and her reluctance to just turn one around so they would connect.
8. My insistence that she be buckled into her car seat when traveling in the car.
9. The reluctance of birds to come eat out of the bird feeder that we had just filled when she stood below it yelling- “come eat birds.”

10. Anyone’s desire to go to the bathroom alone.

11. Anyone’s desire to shower alone.

12. Being told she could not open and play in the stove, and the washing machine and the toilet.

13. My husband’s insistence that she sleep at some point.

And I know someone out there with a less willful child is thinking- just redirect her, distract her- and to you I say bite me. This child is stubborn and persistent, traits my husband insists that she gets from me, but my mom says I was totally not like that as a toddler- it was something that developed later in life. But it is a new week and I am not sick anymore so let’s just hope the world will treat the bug a little better- or really just give her whatever she wants because I think that is the only thing that will make her happy.

So I went on a beer run this afternoon because my husband said that drinking wine while watching hockey was un-American and did I want the terrorists to win and I was wearing my Chicago Blackhawks tee-shirt because it’s like 150 degrees out and my jersey is super hot when some douche at the grocery store rolls his eyes at me and says “What- are you from Chicago or something?”  My “yep I am” seemed to shut him the hell up, and I pretty much ignored him after that because you shouldn’t feed the douche even if they try to make small talk while they wait behind you at the cashier.

I so wasn’t trying to be the a bitch – although often I don’t have to try- but I could tell this was one of those “you can’t know anything about sports because you don’t have a penis” type of guys and honestly I just don’t have time to waste on people like that. All of my life I have always been someone you would call “a guy’s girl”- maybe it’s because I don’t have any sisters- just a brother- but I have always found a good majority of women annoying, have more guy friends than girls friends and argue the designated hitter with anyone who wants to try to convince me it’s a good thing.

Don’t get me wrong- I am a girly girl too. I like shopping and clothes and Grey’s Anatomy (quit judging me) but I also love drinking a cold beer at Wrigley field and once told a very large Detroit fan to go fuck himself in the stands of Soldier Field.  I just never got into the whole girl bonding that required drawing hearts on your spiral notebook and playing games with boys and being popular by being mean.  Honestly the whole thing just bored me to tears- mostly because I was never very good at it. I am a horrible liar and could never figure out the complicated and convoluted rules of being a girl’s girl.

Of course being a guy’s girl is not always easy- boys tended to always thing of me as a friend, and many objects of my adolescent crushes were scared away by a girl who always said what she meant and never pretended to be dumb. And there have been girls who have questioned my ulterior motives for hanging out with the guys. This actually caused me to quit my sorority on college (not that I needed much of a reason- I was never good with all those girls all up in my business). I had a guy friend who I introduced to a girl I knew who I thought he would like. I was right and they started dating, but the next year this girl went to Italy to study for a few months. I never really thought much about continuing to hang out with my guy friend until some whispers got back to me- what was I doing? Was I being all slutty and stabbing a friend in the back? There was much speculations about “my intentions” which were never as dramatic as the rumors. We liked the same books and music and dollar bottles nights at the campus bar- and we were so not attracted to each other- so we were friends. Eventually my sorority sister came back from Italy and we went to lunch and she was all “I hope those bitches didn’t upset you” because she understood and was cool as hell.

But the damage had been done and two years was too long to be sisters with anyone and so I gave away all my letter sweatshirts and the best part was that I was still friends with the girls I liked- and I didn’t have to hang out with the ones I didn’t like.  It was a win/win for everyone. And I was completely happy with my life and the decided lack of female companionship until I became a mom- and only a few of my girlfriends had reached that spot yet. Then I was pretty much screwed- but I went online and found some like-minded women and I had a community. But now I am starting to wonder how this whole “a lot of women annoy me” thing is going to affect the bug. I can see it happening already- I don’t fit in with the moms at Kindermusic or Library story time. I am just not a suburban soccermom (do people even use that term anymore?). My politics are just a little too radical- my parenting philosophy just a little too laid back and I totally lack the machinations of momdom that so resemble the social hierarchy of high school. If it just effected me I wouldn’t care- I have friends, I don’t need to be someone else to fit in with women I don’t like and wouldn’t pick for friends anyway. But I am beginning to question how this will effect the bug- will she miss out because her mom isn’t in the “cool mom” group? And how much do I want to care about this because I so want the big to understand that being yourself is much more important than being someone else just to fit in.  But I have also found that being a mom is way more complicated than what you want to teach your kid because you find yourself willing to do anything to keep any kind of pain far, far away from your kid. Or maybe there is a compromise somewhere- and I should just be careful of when I roll my eyes.

I know that does not have the same power as when Gavroche announces that General Lamarque is dead, but it’s integral to my story.

We started our morning the same as most other mornings, with a diaper change and a sippy of milk- and then the bug climbed up on a stool next to the kitchen counter to look at her fish and frogs while I made some coffee and breakfast- it’s a routine we have come to depend on. But this morning we took an unscripted exit. I threw food in the small aquarium half asleep and willed water to seep through some beans more quickly when I was interrupted by the bug yelling, “wake up frog!!” Yeah you know that that is not good. The poor frogs, both of them, are dead. I am not sure how they died- I mean they’re $6 albino underwater frogs who stayed alive for over three months- I think that is pretty good.

Currently the bug thinks the frogs are sleeping and she will be right because tomorrow I am headed to the store and getting new ones and she will never think anything of it. I am good with this plan mostly because the bug is two- she would not understand the concept of dead even if I tried to explain this to her- but this situation did lead to an interesting discussion with a friend of mine. When I told her the plan she was all “You know it’s better to not lie to your children- we will not be doing things like the Easter bunny or Santa- it’s better that way.” After rolling my eyes so far back into my head that I almost fell over, I again reminded her that our kids were two and I don’t think we have to worry about that quite yet- I mean I bought the bug’s Christmas presents right in front of her and she was still surprised when she opened them up Christmas morning. What I wanted to say but didn’t was that she better not bring that no-Santa vibe all up in my house because I am totally buying into it for my daughter who will hold on to her childhood as long as she can.

I get that some people don’t want to do the whole Santa thing (or Easter Bunny, Tooth fairey etc.)- but I guess I just don’t buy the rationale.  I don’t get the idea that you are “lying” to your kid- that it will somehow scar them emotionally when they get older and then they won’t trust you. I mean seriously? Didn’t most of our parents tell us that Santa was real or maybe your face will freeze that way? Are the majority of people scared by this? Do you resent your parents for perpetuating the Santa myth? This reminds me of the discussion I had with this same friend over how we thought our kids would fair when a new sibling came home.  She was more worried than I was- I figured that it would be an adjustment but the bug would get used to it- I mean didn’t most of us get used to it? There are very few people walking around that still resent their siblings for being born. I mean I wish my brother were a lot of things- more responsible, better with money, have an ability to stay away from crazy women- but not being born isn’t one of them. So I guess I just don’t get the whole I don’t want to lie to my kid – so we won’t be doing Santa. I mean I get why some people don’t want to do Santa- but I just don’t buy that excuse.

And of course it is not for me to buy- what you choose to do with your kid is really your business (unless you’re evil or something) but at some point your kid will come into contact with my kid and that is I think where the problem lies. I would not expect everyone in the world to live by my ideals- I mean I’m not a Republican or anything (HAHAHAHA)- but I do respect and will do my best to make sure the bug knows that she should respect other people’s ideas as well. And I’m naïve enough I guess to think that other people would do this as well. But it, of course, does not always work out that way.

What do you think? Will you lie to your kid about Santa? Does these people kind of annoy you as well?

So I have told you all that my parents are hippies right? I mean like I’m named after an Allman Brother’s song- seriously. I guess I should be happy that my name is Jessica and not Rainbow or something. I’m pretty sure that they picked my name when my dad got high and listened to the album, deciding that he liked the name- and my mom agreed. Yep that is a fantastic legacy- but really while my parents embarrassed me when I was younger- I can now appreciate them. They gave me a great start, particularly when it comes to having an open mind. They were- and are- people who believe that it is ok to have different ideas and it is in lively debate where we really learn. But, most importantly- that we were not the judge and jury of any other person and respect for other people’s choices and ideas was as important as being passionate about your own.

This is, I am sure, where I got my whole “whatever floats your boat” perspective about people. Well, as long as you are, you know, not breaking the law or hurting someone- or doing any of these things with my husband- what you do is really your beeswax. This has allowed me to enjoy a variety of blogs for a variety of reason even if the blogger themselves and I see things very differently. Just because someone has different ideas than me doesn’t mean that I automatically disregard them especially if I find them interesting or funny or talented. I mean if I think you are a kick ass photographer, or a funny storyteller or have a fabulous eye for design I don’t really care what your stance on healthcare is- or rather I won’t hold it against you if we disagree. But all this is based on just a few caveats and there are things that will get people and their blogs kicked right out of my Google reader:

1. Being racist or homophobic- sorry mountain momma doesn’t play around with that or anyone filled with hate. This does not mean you can’t have an opinion on something like Affirmative Action or Same Sex marriage- but any diatribe on not liking people based on skin color or sexuality and you are gone.
2. Judgmental parents- you know the ones who think that letting your kid eat a cupcake is a federal offense and that people who don’t breastfeed should have their children taken away from them. I don’t do self-righteousness very well; I find it utterly annoying.
3. You call Obama a Nazi and think everything Glen Beck says is true- because honestly why in the world would I waste my time on someone who obviously cannot conceive of a thought of their own.
4. Poor spelling and grammar- look typos I get, heck I have them here mostly because I don’t always do a thorough check because I write at nap time, when it comes, and sometimes it ends abruptly. But if your writing is so full of errors that it is difficult to understand what you are saying then it feels too much like work- really because that is what I do for a living. Use a friend as an editor, really.
5. No sense of humor- if you can’t laugh at yourself, take everything too seriously and to heart then you are probably a very boring person. Add more points if you cannot differentiate between someone being serious and someone making a joke. I have read far too many people getting pissed about something that was a joke to begin with. Seriously if they do a skit about it on SNL- they are not serious.
6. Claiming to be a super religious person but ripping on everyone else- just a thought, but a spiritual person would probably not spend their time finding fault with everything and everyone. I remember that one from Catechism.
7. Using words/ideas you do not know the definition of- seriously like less than half of the people who yell “socialism” actual know what socialism is and the difference between a theoretical idea and a form of government. As a side note- if you are accusing someone of being a socialist or incompetent, you should probably spell it correctly to be taken at all seriously. The second most incorrectly used concept: irony.
8. You are a member of the Tea Party- enough said.
9. Some many ads on your blog that I can’t actually read your post- I don’t mind ads on blogs, if you can make some money doing something you like good for you. But if I have to click closed five pop up ads before I can even get to what you’ve written then I am probably not even bother because it’s just too much work.

10. You get into some sort of fight with another blogger- and it carries over into every post. Honestly               I just don’t have the energy. Maybe it was because I don’t gave a sister- only a brother, and most                 of my friends have always been guys- but I don’t do mean girl behavior, especially in grown                         women.

So what about you? What is a dealbreaker for you as a blog reader?

So I told you all about the emotionally scaring experience with the first dead squirrel so that you would understand how we felt when just this week we found another dead squirrel in our yard. And while we were five years and 500 miles from the original scene of the crime the memory is fresh.

I found this squirrel in much the same way that I had found the first one, through very excited sniffing by the dog. There it was, stiff posture, glassy eyes, and a decided lack of movement. My first thought of course was “you’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me!” But I took the dog in and let the husband know- you could see the fear in his eyes. “Is it really dead?” he asked. “Are you sure it’s dead? Did you poke it with a stick?”

What. The. Fuck? “No I did not poke it with a stick because we are not in the movie Stand by Me.” I would have continued but I could see that the husband was having a flashback.  So I went back into the yard and pretended to poke the thing with a stick (because seriously I am not poking a dead squirrel with a stick) so that the husband would be satisfied. But now we are in another conundrum- because while Illinois Animal Control refused to come get a dead squirrel- we now live in West Virginia, I don’t even know if they have animal control here because in this state you better have damn good reason for asking someone to help you with a random wild animal- like said animal chewed off your hands- both of them – and then knocked out your teeth and then broke both of your legs. Because I think if I tried calling animal control the whole but I’m a girl thing would not work here in the mountain state. They’d be like: “Uh lady-what kind of a pussy are you that you can’t pick up a dead squirrel? Just pick it up and give it to one of your neighbors because I am sure they have a recipe for squirrel stew that you don’t because you’re obviously not from here.”  Seriously these people are tough.

So the husband comes up with a wonderfully brilliant plan, which disposes of the body and keeps him far away, leave it and let the raccoons have it. Seriously, that is exactly what he said. He rightly took my look as a direct attack on his manhood because then he suggested that we just let the thing decompose because it would just be good compost for the soil. That one made me laugh until it was dark and the discussion was tabled until the morning- while the husband prayed desperately for some raccoons to come deal with the thing before he had to get his hands dirty. And yes his hands because again I am not touching a dead squirrel- I don’t care what anyone says or what the animal control people think of me- I am not Ellie Clampett.

The morning dawned bright without a raccoon in sight but with an increase in flies buzzing around a decomposing squirrel in the yard. So the husband finally manned up and went outside to deal with the decomposing squirrel that, this time, did not get a name. But I will tell you he approached that thing very gingerly and he did poke it with a stick first- but I think this has taken it’s toll on him emotionally. Yesterday he told me that some other squirrel was giving him an accusatory look while he was out with the dog.

Me: How does a squirrel give one “a look?”

The Husband: Well he came down the tree and saw where the body used to be and then stared at me, like a really long time. It was like he was judging me- like I killed his friend or something.

Me: Wow, I’ve never been judged by a squirrel before- do you think he’s plotting?

The Husband: Keep laughing- I told him you did it.

And then this morning the squirrel took down the birdfeeder- and I have no idea how- but it knew I was watching and didn’t care. Maybe we should be very careful, I guess these West Virginia squirrels really hold a grudge.

Also this is the second time in my life this has happened. Maybe in some cultures squirrels that just seem to drop dead in your yard is a sign of good luck or something but for me it’s just gross. And also a pain in the ass because it is really hard to get someone to come get a dead squirrel out of your yard and you have to make damn sure that said squirrel is dead.

So like five or six years ago, back when the husband and I still lived in Illinois we found our first dead squirrel- or almost dead squirrel cause as it turned out he was still alive. It all started when we were in the back yard with the dog and he started intently sniffing some grass near a tree and I pulled him back fast because just the week before he had picked up a possum, yeah you heard that right. He was doing his thing in the corner of the yard and comes running back to me with a freakin’ possum in his mouth, like a squeak toy or something. It’s a blur of course but I managed to yell out “drop it” and hustle the dog back into the house. Then I ran back to the yard to find the poor possum just lying there- “he’s dead!” I yelled. But the husband who was watching me through the kitchen window pointed out that the possum maybe, you know playing possum, and suggested I come back into the house and check back in an hour. Sure enough the damn thing was gone- do maybe the husband is right once in a while. But back to the squirrel- which is what I found when I checked out the patch of grass the dog had been sniffing. A dead squirrel, looking all stiff and glassy eyed. I yelled for the husband because while I totally think I should be paid the same money for the same job I didn’t get married so that I had to pick up dead squirrels. So the husband grabbed the pooper-scooper and a garbage bag to deal with the corpse when all of a sudden he jumped back and he may have squealed a bit too. “It moved!!!” Great, so now we have an alive but injured squirrel in our backyard and what the hell do you do with that? Now I’m a city girl so I went to phone book and called animal control and they told me that they did not deal with wild animals. What. The. Fuck?

I would like to go on the record saying that I would not count a semi-dead squirrel as a wild animal. I mean seriously – they are almost house pets. So after a rant in which I questioned the paternity of the animal control guy and why I pay taxes when animal control will not even protect me from wild animals I calmed down enough to call the number the non-animal control people gave me to “the wild animal lady” – their term not mine. She told me to take the squirrel to a local animal hospital and if it could be saved she would come get him. But now, how in the hell do you take a squirrel, which is basically a rat with a bushy tale, to the vet? It turns out you do so in an old Nike shoe box that you gingerly hold open while your husband deposits said squirrel. It was only a few minutes down the street to the vet, but I got kind of attached to Nike the squirrel, so I was slightly upset when the vet pronounced that Nike was dyeing from some ailment and invested with fleas so they would put her down humanely. But it wasn’t really a surprise- I mean I had thought the thing was dead and it didn’t move at all when we put him in the shoebox. So I was prepared for the news, but it still kind of sucked.

But that story is important because when I tell you that my husband refused to come out to the yard when I found the most recent dead squirrel until I had poked the thing with a stick you should understand that he has been burned before and is probably emotionally scarred and not, as one would think, a giant pussy.

To be continued tomorrow when I am officially on summer vacation- I have lost of stuff to write about and nothing but time- so I need to pace myself!