Dead pets.

You'd think I'd be good at this by now, having witnessed some major deaths in the last two years, mainly Big Gun's mother and my marriage. But losing our two guinea pigs in the last two weeks also signaled the end of a part of my kids' childhoods: the end of the small rodent era. (Well, those kept as pets, at least. Kitten continues to bring home juicy rats.)

The house is full of phantom Chippy and Giselle chirps and squeaks. When I enter the kitchen in the am, first thing I do is look toward the spot where their cages were. It will take time to get used to living without the little furries. They are under the redwood tree with all their predecessors. The day after Chippy's interment, Kitten and Dylan were hanging out there. According to my pet psychic friend, our redwood tree is a sacred portal. Nice.

On to the next chapter, which will soon include driving and picking out colleges. I gave the older brother of a friend of my big boy's a ride home the other day. He's choosing between Harvard, Dartmouth, Yale and some university in Vancouver. He says the decision hinges on what's the most affordable! Compared to what? Paying off the deficit?