Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Spring Time Buzz

I am happy. Giddy. Light-hearted. Practically fun-loving. And most unlike myself. I blame spring. Or credit it. Certainly there have been enough stresses: the guinea pig finally died of ovarian cancer, our daughter is suddenly being homeschooled, I've given birth to a book and need to nurse it 24/7 to keep it alive, there is trip planning to do, murals to paint, press releases to send--yet I'm cool with that.

You know, meds cannot be overrated. I thought of this yesterday as I got four new tires on the minivan. There was a time when taking a vehicle to get new tires, dealing with strange salesmen in an even stranger smelling venue, while chasing a preschooler, would have been stressful. Oh, and dropping off four press releases and review copies at the post office on the way. Normally, I would have been shaking, twitching, maybe swallowing my words and speaking in fast, not well enunciated sentences while begging for the ordeal to be over. It's good to get older and have better insurance.

Actually, emotions are quite roller coaster-like around here, one minute there is glee, the next glares, then hysterical laughter, then rages involving broken windows and sippy cups crashing into breakable objects. And then there are the kids. The guinea pig passing away was sad, Dolly the brillo pad piggie had been doing pretty well for an ancient guinea pig that had endured rough love with a rabbit, and had cancer, but even someone as stout of heart and willing to please had to pass to the great beyond someday. She was buried with love and flowers and tears next to the grave of my rabbit, Clover, that great bunny in the sky.

I've been on a pet care roll lately: cleaned the fish tank an hour ago, furminated the dog (google "furminate" cool product), picked up the doggie debris, our daughter cleaned the guinea pig's cage yesterday (the surviving, younger, male member of the furry family) and the surviving rabbit's litter, too. Crickets for the lizard are tomorrow. I definitely inherited some sort of caretaker gene.

The preschooler is asleep on the couch, which means a late night for all of us, OK since we will be picking up the minivan from the service department where it has had a checkup and the brakes replaced because I only just learned how to downshift on an incline.

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