Well, I can see that this week's theme is shaping up to be: Hostile pet environments and the everydayshakespeare women.
This weekend, my daughter's guinea pig (who had a good run there for 4 years and change) went to that big plastic igloo in the sky. Two hours later, after a quick but respectful burial, I threw a birthday party for my son. It was all very Winter's Tale, end of Act 3: "thou met'st with things dying, I with things new-born." Except that I actually met with both of them, and baked a soccer cake too. I've decided I like this Shakespearean interpretation of my life better than the one that reads this as the latest in a string of curses that has befallen my little family ever since I had my students read the "bubble, bubble, toil and trouble" scene out loud.
I don't think I need you this week, Shake-Ball. I think I found my own quote to live by.
R.I. P., Blackberry. You were a sweet little cavy.
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