Oz

One of the side effects of working in a pet store is having a large number of pets, often ones that fall outside of what society considers "normal". At one point, I had thirty-four pets, as well as a husband and child in a two bedroom flat. We've had hamsters, gerbils, mice, guinea pigs, lizards, frogs, birds, and snakes, as well as the more traditional cats and dogs. One of my favorite pets is the rat. Before you get all freaky on me, hear me out. If you can get past the tail, rats are smart and charming creatures.

Last Sunday night, I got home with the boys to find one of my rats, Oz, dead in the bottom of his cage. I got Oz a year ago, while I was working at Petco. He had been dropped of to be adopted off, since his owner was moving overseas. I had a feeling that he was going to end up as snake food. When he popped his head out of his hut when I took the lid off his tank I just about jumped. He was the biggest rat that I had ever seen. I took him out of the tank so I could clean it, placing him on my shoulder as I worked. I swear he wrapped his tail around my neck and hugged me. I went to put him back, and he just looked at me with those little beady eyes. That was it. Oz came home with me. Soon, I added another rat, Xander, to keep him company.


Oz was the first pets that I added after my husband and I split up. It was symbolic of me being able to make my own decisions about what animals share my home. In all fairness, Ed finally gave up trying to have any control over the pet population at the Richardson house, but it was nice to be able to just do what I wanted to do. So for that, I am grateful to the little guy.

Now Xander lives alone in his cage. He was sitting next to Oz's body when I found them. I think he was saying goodbye. He's been glum lately. I've been giving him extra attention, but lets face it, it isn't the same.

So for now, I say goodbye little buddy. Say hello to Kerouac, Piggers, Bacon, Milo, Merry, Pippin, Spike, Angel, Blue, Otis, and Jupiter, and all the other critters waiting for us on the other side of the rainbow bridge. Thank you for sharing your life with us. We love and miss you. See you someday.

Ode to the Library

Taking Stone to the library can go a number of ways. Yesterday was the screaming at the top of our lungs in the stacks option. Nothing screams "sad and pathetic" like standing in front of the dating self-help books, and having to say repeatedly to the screaming preschooler next to you. "Will you PLEASE just HUSH?"

Our local library is not noted for being a haven for picking up single men. The one time a guy hit on me there, it turned out he was in town for a court date and was going to kill some time by going online and looking for Christian music. Not the strongest pickup line I've ever heard sir. You may want to reconsider your approach. At the very least, may I recommend bringing up the criminal record after we exchange names?

I tend to pick up an eclectic selection of items at the library. My first stop is always the music collection.I have found more amazing artists that way. It's how I got into Jan Arden, Vampire Weekend, and Patty Griffin. Now I'm hooked.

I also have a thing for cookbooks. I love to to cook, and never leave the library without at least one cookbook. On this trip I left with The $5 Dinner Mom Cookbook, by Erin Chase. This combines my love of cooking and my ingrained sense of Yankee thrift. There's an entire blog on that alone someday.

My guilty pleasure read is self-help books. I have read just about every book in our local library about dating, divorce, dating after divorce, dating with children...sad for a girl who seldom dates, I know. I think its one of the reasons my friend Sarah calls me "Bridget Jones". I like to think that I am more like the Diane Lane's character in the movie "Must Love Dogs", but I have a feeling Sarah is right. I don't smoke, but have been known to indulge in alcohol and sad music when I'm feeling lonely. I worry about my weight, and am concerned about the very real possibility that am going to die alone. Of course no one will find my body for weeks, after it has been eaten by dogs. I also have a weakness for Daniel Cleaver types. (Now if only I could find one that looks like Hugh Grant!) I always think they're a Mark Darcy, but in the end, they are a Daniel. (Of course I wouldn't kick Colin Firth out of my bed for eating crackers either, but that's another story.)



On this trip I picked up a selection of books on divorce, including one that hit a little close to home. Drunk Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair, by Laurie Perry. Surely this was written about me. Do you think I can get royalties?

Normally I would head for the movies next, but I've been so busy that I wouldn't get to watch them before they're due. Stone was done. He was still fuming that there were no books about Thomas the Tank Engine in the collection. I tried to steer him towards something else, but he would have none of it.

So our library adventure came to a close. Six books and three CDs later, we were headed out. I got out of the house and interacted with people. Some days you just can't ask for more than that!

Why I Do "Relay For Life"

About a lifetime ago, I did a blog on MySpace about my breast cancer scare. Relay For Life is coming up, and I thought it was a good time to touch on the subject again. So here it is.

September 11, 2006 was the kind of day that starts out hopeful, then ends in chaos. I had an appointment with the obstetrician, and an ultrasound planned. In the course of the appointment, the doctor found a lump in my breast. That's when life began to go crazy. Every possible emotion coursed through me, anger, sadness, fear...especially fear.

After a second opinion, I went to the CNY Breast Health Center. I was expecting it to be a quick appointment, and planned on getting lunch and doing some shopping afterward. No such luck, because there on the sonogram screen was this big black void. The doctor came in with a serious expression on his face.

"We need to take a tissue sample. Today." In a single moment my entire world felt like it was crashing down around me. All I could picture was my oldest son's face. I couldn't breathe. I called Ed, and he literally ran out of work and up the hill to the hospital. I was sitting in the waiting room crying hysterically, when the girls in the admitting office saw me and pulled me into their office, so that I wouldn't be on display. They brought me tissues and ice water, and held my hand until Ed got there.

If you ever need to have this done. I would recommend this office to anyone. They explained everything as it happened. A nurse held my hand the entire time, and they even let Ed go in for the procedure with me.

If you have never had a breast biopsy, let me tell you that it is the freakiest, most degrading thing you will ever go through. First they "numbed" the area with Lidocane, while they tell you that you won't feel anything but a little pressure. They are lying. Then they make a slit in the skin, and take an instrument that looks like an eight inch needle with a box on the end of it. They shove it into the slit, and when they take the sample, it sounds like a staple gun going off. They repeat this about eight times. It hurt like hell. I'm lying topless on an exam table in a room crowded with people, while some guy I don't know is removing part of my breast, piece by piece. When it was all over, I started shaking and couldn't stop. It's been five years, and I still wake up screaming from nightmares about it.

In the end the tests all came back negative for cancer. I was lucky. So now five years later, I do Relay for Life. I do it for all the women who weren't as lucky as I was. For all the mothers who didn't get to watch their children grow. For all the children who watched their mothers lose their battle. I was lucky. It's my way of saying thank you. So when you see a Relay for Life event, remember my story.

Me, It's who I am...

I recently had an email conversation with a friend in which I recounted my most obnoxious traits. Being me, I saw the humor in it and thought i would share.

I am whiny, selfish, demanding, and prone to "diva moments"

I leave my clothes in piles on the floor.

I have a shoe and purse obsession that can only be called "out of control".

I cook for an army, then bitch that I am  overweight.

I'm moody.

I am beyond disorganized.

I hog the bed. And the blankets.

I chew gum constantly, because it keeps me from smoking. And I chew it with my mouth open when I'm driving.

I have to have music on constantly. Seriously. All. The. Time.

On the other hand....

I love with my whole heart.

I put everyone else's needs above my own.

I would give someone the shirt off my back if I thought they needed it more.

So that, my friends is me. Take me or leave me. It's who I am.

that one perfect moment....

There are always moments in our lives that live in our memories forever. Sometimes they are big things, like weddings, births, deaths. Sometimes though it's the little tiny moments that we hold tightly. My current favorite moment was one where for just a second, everything was peaceful and right with the world. A couple of months ago, I woke up in the arms of someone I cared about. His arms were around me, and I had one dog in my arms, another on my feet, another next to my face, and a cat at the top of my head. It was the first time in a long time I woke up smiling. At that exact moment in time, I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Of course time goes on, and things change. We've gone our separate ways, but that one perfect moment remains. It's the kind of memory that makes me hope I don't end up with dementia.  When I'm ninety, even if I end up alone, I want to be able to look back and say. "Yeah, I had that perfect moment and I wouldn't change a thing."

Canning Season 2011 Opener

So the other day I was looking for a jar of jam in my pantry. That is when I made the awful discovery. I was down to my last two jars of jam. This may not seem like much of a tragedy unless you realize that it is March in the North Country. There isn't much in the way of fresh fruit available. Two jars of jam doesn't go very far either when you average ten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches a week. Yes I could go to the store and buy jam, but have you met me yet?

About the only fruit available, that's worth doing anything with, is citrus fruit. So I dug out my trusty blue book, and looked up  marmalade recipes. I have never made marmalade before, and had no idea what on earth I was getting into. I chopped the citrus peel, chopped the pulp. Then you have to boil the peel, then change the water and add the pulp and reboil. Then you let it sit for about eighteen hours. Then you bring it to a boil again, add the sugar, and let it boil some more. I was starting to get annoyed by the whole process until I decided to use it as a zen exercise.

I stood there stirring, and stirring, and stirring some more. I used the time to run the last couple of  weeks through my head. I thought about everything I've said, and everything I wish I had the guts to say. I kept stirring and let everything go in my mind. Finally the marmalade gelled, and I could put it in the jars and processed it. In the meantime I processed the last couple of weeks. I'm at a changing point in my life. Between putting my mother in the nursing home, and making some other decisions that were just as hard, I've been through the emotional wringer. It was nice to take the time to just meditate on it. Who knew that making marmalade could also be a lesson in patience?

The Joy of Kids

This is my weekend with the boys. I typically get them every three weeks. Usually it falls on a weekend with little to no extra income, but the boys have gotten used to that. So we find things to do. This is a lot easier in the summer of course, when there are plenty of free events going on. This time of year is a little more challenging. Between the weather changing every thirty seconds, and the mud that is up to our knees, Outdoor activities are usually out. I'll be honest. I am not "outdoorsy". I like to go for walks, and sit on the beach. I don't hunt, fish, camp, ski, snowmobile, or anything like that. My idea of a good time is putting in a cd and curling up on the sofa with a good book. We've discussed my lack of green thumb before, so obviously, I don't do much gardening either.

The boys don't seem too bothered by my lack of "outdoorsiness". Fox is pretty similar to me in that regard. Except instead of curling up with a book, he'd rather play video games. At least with the Wii, he's getting some exercise. Stone, at not quite four is happy riding his little tricycle in circles through the living area. His other favorite activity involves watching the movie "Ghostbusters" on endless loop. If I have to hear that theme song one more time, I may snap. Seriously.


Weekends with the boys though are special. Not just because they make me appreciate the weekends they are at their dad's more. (I'm only half kidding here.) It gives me a new perspective on them. I don't usually get to see them interact with each other. During the week, Fox is at school during the day, and I tend to work at night. On the weekends I get to see them play together, and drive each other bananas in a way that only siblings can. This morning for instance was a two hour argument about whether Fox was going to play Wii, or Stone was going to watch "Ghostbusters". I managed to get them to compromise, but eventually it just became easier to just leave the house with them.

Last night was a study in obnoxious. A friend of mine joined us for dinner. My darling boys took the obnoxious to the next level. I sent them into the living room to watch television so Bob and I could chat in the kitchen. Fox sat backwards in the recliner staring at us through the pass window. I told him repeatedly to go watch television, play in traffic, something, anything. But he kept interrupting. Stone kept running in to ask questions. The dogs kept jumping up and licking Bob in the face, sticking their head in his crotch, the whole nine yards. After he left I read the boys the riot act, sent them to bed, and poured myself a glass of wine.

It's a good thing they are so stinking cute. I really do love spending time with them. They usually manage to make me laugh. Fox got my sense of humor. To the point that I made a joke at his parent teacher conference, and one of his teachers looked at me and said "There is no doubt which kid is yours!" He has a dry sense of humor. The kind that people sometimes don't get. I cannot imagine where he got it from. Stone is just so energetic and loving that it's impossible not to smile around him. So back I go to spend time with the boys. Until next time...