Picking Up The Pieces...

It was all fun and games last week until the squirrel committed suicide on my driveway....

This past week just happened to be one of those extra busy, fun weeks jam-packed with gatherings and dinners and outings... And even though I had just come off the big party weekend leading into Memorial Day, I fully embraced my social butterfly side all over again. It is June after all, summer coming...much to celebrate. So I started all over again on Wednesday with Sally's big birthday dinner...Sally and me and Stacey and Lyncher, friends since Freshman year of high school, at Rebecca's, this little hidden gem Cuban BYO in Edgewater...a secret patio in the back, nestled among the cliffs and ravines of the Hudson River-side...and the night was warm and the patio was lit by white Christmas lights and after we ran off the little family and the romantic young couple, we had said patio all to ourselves. Together we (and by that I mean Stacey and I with minimal help from Sally and Lyncher...) downed 4 bottles of Spanish rose with our plantains and ropa vieja and croquetas...and as Sally sported her birthday sombrero, we laughed non-stop with and at each other...

Thankfully Stacey's young cousin Lucas drove us home...and thankfully, I felt crisp and clear and ready to go on Thursday morning (unlike Stacey who was in bed until 1 p.m....), because I had an official PTO welcome brunch/meeting and then that night a country club cocktail party with my 22 year old bestie, Kaitlyn...brand new graduate of Stonehill College and new employee at a big international financial firm. And you know, we rocked our preppy strapless dresses and worked the room and chatted up all the old geezers and had drinks with some Southern guy and a few frat boys and we somehow became the new muses to a fine gentlemen in pink seersucker pants who thought Kaitlyn and I were the same age...and though this might sound like an insult to KRose, she had already admitted her age to him when he made the assumption...which shows you how drunk he must have been. All along we made note of the wiry, un-made up, strong-faced WASP gals in the room...we looked like showgirls next to them for crissakes...but I don't find a thing wrong with injecting a teeny, tiny bit of sexy cuteness into a buttoned-up old men's club...and so we did...

On Friday night we celebrated my own birthday (again) with Allison, Kevin, Marty and Casey -- burgers and beers at Langan's (which I tried to pay for only to surrender when Marty practically dove across the table and whacked the billfold from my hands...) and a performance of "Rock of Ages" starring Wyckoff's very own (and Steve M.'s cousin), Constantine Maroulis, and where we coincidentally bumped into our friends Charlie and Teri. So, anyway, while I love the retro 80's power ballads of Styx and Journey and REO Speedwagon...I must admit, I was having a hard time reconciling sitting in this Broadway theater while pounding Coors Lights sold to us by waiters trolling the aisles throughout the performance...like at a Mets game or something. And though I didn't partake, the beers added to the ambiance, and I think the producers of this show realized it would be far more enjoyable to watch while p*ss drunk...and I would have to agree. It was such a fun night though, being with my BFFs, Casey and Al in this 80's-centric experience...just like in high school...

It was Saturday morning when the week-long buzzy fun came to a halt....as I ran around the house trying to find Tim's baseball uniform, making the beds, throwing together breakfast, getting dressed, tossing laundry in the dryer, I hear Ellie say:

"Mom, there is a dead squirrel on the driveway..."

And she's all matter of fact and straightforward...no real emotion, just stating the truth.... Not I...I start freaking the f**k out... "What???!!! Are you sure???!!!" And again, she simply states that there is a dead squirrel on the driveway, right next to the basketball hoop...she even demoed the squirrel's death face for me...all while the panic rises within me.

Now, aside from tornadoes and vampires, my greatest fear in life is coming into contact with any form of wild life. I am not one of those folks who thinks it's adorable when a deer is at the side of the road...or when a bear gets stuck in a tree in some suburban park....or when a freaking bunny births another litter in my forsythia. I know it sounds bad, but I think it is kind of gross....and I curse the developers and dirty politicians who have approved the blasting of mountainsides to put in McMansions, pushing wild animals down into our backyards, the poor things....and because of that, my friend's dog was eaten by a coyote. I love animals...but I love them best when they keep a clear distance from me. And a dead animal...ugh...god help me... I couldn't bring myself to look at it...so the boys confirmed Ellie's declaration after surveying the scene themselves.

So a million thoughts go through my head...I am alone, just me and my kids...I consider briefly calling Suse's Scott or Kim's John or Mary's Sandy or Joe's Gwen....and then I remember my dad...I should call him, I think. But I am too embarrassed to do so...instead I decide that this is a right of passage for me as a woman...eventually everyone has to toss out the dead animals that come into their lives...and this was my moment. So I enlist Ellie, as my oldest, to be my partner in crime scene clean up...I make her grab some trash bags and I grab a big snow shovel and then a garden shovel as the big broom is amongst the missing (great timing!!)...and I head out for my initial investigation. And of course, upon first view of this silent, still rodent, the wind blows and it's diseased furry tail moves and Ellie and I scream in terror...Did it just move???? Is it still alive??? we ask one another....but clearly, it is not, because there it lays, still. I begin to tear up from pure fear as I close in on the little thing and I see no obvious outer injuries...no blood or wounds...no bite marks...so I look up and see in direct line with the final resting place are a tree branch, the edge of my roof and a cable that is connected to my neighbor's house...and with this evidence I declared the incident as self-inflicted...suicide or accidental death by a leap too short...certainly no foul play...no gangsta raccoons to arrest as or anything...(see, I learned a lot from watching The First 48...). It took a few tries because Ellie and I both kept running from the scene screaming, but eventually I covered the body with a rag and then scooped it up with the shovel and deposited it into a trash bag...which I then triple bagged. So utterly gross. Thankfully my Dad played coroner's office and removed the bag from my property and tossed it in an unnamed local public garbage can....like it never happened...very Jersey of us.

I did my best to shake the heebie jeebies for the rest of the day and later I rallied and prettied up for Sally's Surprise Birthday party at Stout NYC on 33rd Street, where I met Stacey and Christine and we toasted a shocked Sally...and at which a group of servicemen on leave came and joined us in our toast...frankly, I am not sure any of them were of legal drinking age, therefore they were at least 25 years below my preferred target age... but a few cougars in the room made them feel welcome.

So then it was Sunday afternoon....I was preparing to ride out the spotty thunderstorms until the planned evening barbecue at Sam's house, I was cleaning my kitchen, making some lunch for the kids...and out of nowhere, like a high speed bullet heading straight for me, as I shut the oven door, two glass Pyrex casserole dishes, one 9x13, which was held inside an 11x15, flew out of the cabinet above...and I do not exaggerate...they flew like there was some evil force expelling them or as though someone had performed the Heimlich on my cabinet...straight forward, totally airborne, missing my head by no more than 5 inches. They smashed on my kitchen floor, scattering shards of thick, heavy glass across the entire floor, into the dining room, front hallway and powder room. And I just stood there dumbfounded, looking at the floor and the shards like little diamonds twinkling back at me...and I realize it would be my head down there had I not pulled back...and I just kept thinking: "a million little pieces..."

This garbage removal was far more labor intensive than the last debacle...took me a full hour to complete...but I just floated through it, thanking Jesus, Mary, Joseph, all the angels and saints...my guides and all that...they must have saved me from this random event, the propelling dishes, 8 pounds combined, probably a result of some pissed off squirrel poltergeist that now inhabits my walls (or maybe my questionable pan balancing abilities...not unlike that poor squirrel, just missing the cable from the branch...)...but at least Ellie wasn't standing over my listless body nonchalantly telling the boys: "There's a dead Mommy on the kitchen floor...."

Instead two hours later I was sitting on Sam's deck with Gwen, sipping a frozen purple grape juice margarita (trademark: Brian H.)...again, laughing with and at my friends, watching my kids run around in the yard, playing tag, blowing bubbles...

So, I guess I was just reminded yet again that there are worse fates than having a little unexpected refuse to dispose of now and then in life...some fears to face and messes to clean up...that is not a big deal at all when you are blessed with friends and family who love you and want you to be there for their birthdays and barbecues and nights out and burgers and beers and memories from decades past....or for the unknown brand new memories to make together... In fact, I think nothing beats knowing there are still countless brand new memories in front of us...scattered about the years ahead like a million little pieces...

Photos:

1 & 2. Sally, Stacey, Lyncher and me...at least two bottles of Spanish rose in, acting the fools and celebrating the years ahead...

3. KRose (far left) and Me (far right) flank one of the member wives in her dainty straw hat...or maybe that is Christina Applegate and Heather Graham with Chloe Sevigny...but we looked exactly like that...

4. Casey, me and Allison celebrate memories of more than 26 years together...over beer and burgers and '80's power ballads...

5. A little black bear enjoying the cozy and cheerful benefits of urban sprawl...cute!!

6. The suicidal squirrel had a past apparently....

7. Sally toasts her birth with the innocent, underage boys who protect our freedom...our freedom to be boozy cougars, apparently...

8. Actual shot of a small section of my kitchen floor, covered in broken glass...

9. Giving me new memories every single day...Tim, Ellie and Will, last summer on Longboat Key...