A great many people have commented on recent blogs that I have written, and have, to my great honor, called me several things that I thought were hilarious. I would be pleased to be able to tell you why this makes me grin. But before I tell you that story, I'd like to be able to tell you what my plans for this November are going to be.
It is my plan, with a little help from my friends (Thank you, Sir Paul), to become the next President of the United States. While many of you might be smirking or might be thinking something smarmy, let me explain my plan.
Obviously, the country is completely divided in their choice of presidential candidates. Perhaps not fairly, but divided, nonetheless. Everybody is talking about President Obama not doing anything for the economy, and they are also whispering about Mitt Romney and his epic faux pas in Florida. And whenever she opens her mouth, I want to smash Mrs. Romney in the head, for the sake of all of those who are clearly struggling with MS. It is an insult to everyone in this country, on this planet, because whatever she has to say never holds water, anyway. She talks in circles, she has more money than most people on the planet, and she has access to the best medical care in the country. But enough about Mrs. Romney. This blog is about a squirrel queen, and her plan to become the next President of the United States.
It started off as a joke, really. I kept telling my friends that I was going to get some construction paper, I was going to use Sharpie markers and crayons, and I was going to hang up signs on all the street poles to vote for Patricia Servidio, as a write-in candidate. I figured, if I was going to do that, I was going to have to have some sort of credentials, first. Let me explain my credentials.
I am a squirrel queen. This is not a joke. It is something that my friend told me, a long time ago, when I was bit by a squirrel. It's kind of like being a "squirrel whisperer". But with a higher responsibility.
Years ago, I got bitten by a squirrel. Yes, a squirrel. I know it sounds hard to believe, but you can't make this stuff up. This is how it all happened, and how I became the "squirrel queen":
I had just dropped my daughter off at nursery school. With only 90 minutes before I had to pick her up from class, I wanted to get the house a bit organized. Toys were strewn about the living room like a trail of breadcrumbs. Dog hair from our first dog, Cubby, blew about the house like tumbleweeds in the Mojave Desert. To be honest, I was disgusted. A bag of pretzels, with literally seven halves in it, lay open on the table. So, being the animal lover that I am, I figured that I would toss them out to the birds.
As I walked to to the back door of my house, I heard a sudden commotion on the roof. I shrugged it off, let Cubby out to do her business in the yard, and shook the remnants of the pretzel bag out upon the grass.
I was not prepared for what happened next.
Two squirrels were having a fight on my roof. I did not even have time to look; they toppled off the roof and onto my head.
My head felt like it weighed about a ton, and I was completely off balance as I shrieked for them to get off of me. At this point, Cubby had abandoned her idea of "doing business" and opted to run over and bark her fuzzy labra-shephard head off. Thanks, Cub, for just making the situation worse.
One of the squirrels was frightened by the sound of Cubby, so it jumped off my head and onto the roof. The other one clawed and dug its back paws into my scalp, which hurt like hell. If that wasn't bad enough, it hung its body in front of my face, hissed, and grabbed my face with its front paws. He then bit my right eyelid, which I had thankfully and instinctively closed. It hurt like hell; that sucker jumped off my head and onto my roof, before Cubby could get him. She had jumped all over me when the second squirrel was on my head, so I can only imagine what this must have looked like.
I assure you, folks, I am not making this stuff up. Had my hilarious husband been home, he said he would have taped me and sent in the video to "America's Funniest Home Videos", and we would have been $25,000 richer.
After that incident, I went up to the ED where I worked. The chief of staff, when he finally stopped laughing, evaluated my eye and told me that I didn't need rabies, since squirrels are not vector carrying animals. Since that day, and until the day he left the ED, I was known as "Squirrel-Eye". Hilarious.
I arrived at the nursery school with one swollen eye and one that still had remnants of mascara and eye shadow on the lids and lashes. The moms asked what had happened; I recanted the entire tale, to which I was heralded with roars of laughter.
One of my friends in particular, had taken this news to the next level. I began to receive gifts with a squirrel theme; every card that I got had a squirrel on it. To this day, we are still exchanging things with those furry rodents on them, although now the pickings are slim, since we have probably purchased everything in squirrel motif.
One day, as we were at a mutual friend's house, my friend had her daughters tie stuffed squirrels to their heads. They came into the house and bowed at my feet, and from then on, I was known as "Squirrel Queen". Every one of my cards bears this title, and since I am now "deemed royalty", I guess that makes me as eligible as any of the other candidates to run for a shot at the Oval Office.
Squirrels have a lot to teach us. They scurry about, and get jobs done in a hurry, especially at harvest time. They teach us to save for a rainy day. They also teach us the art of balance; the art of giving and getting. Even though our goals may be at the forefront of our lives, we should never forget to play.
So, as I take out my crayons and construction paper and vie for that coveted position as Commander in Chief, I look in the mirror at the scar of that squirrel's bite, and I remember to take time to play and laugh at life, and to conserve my energy for times of need.