Well, if it weren't for the constant medium to bad headache (at times aching all the way in my teeth) I would be out of bed by now.  As it is, the poodle and I are still in bed, me with broth, tea, and the ipad, and hugely, without a small parrot strategizing for position as close to me as possible.  Sad as it is to give away a pet the quiet and peace in this space right now is not something I've experienced in years and years.  As many dogs as we've had, none have taken up the psychic space of a highly intelligent small parrot, or as my cousin called him, my winged nemesis.  Jon is sad to see Frodo go, but sent him to his new digs in full understanding of the necessity and future quality of life around here, with a wife not stalked, obsessed on, followed, crawled on, crapped on, etc.....

I talked to a friend last night from college that went through this (breast cancer, that is, not obsessed parrot ownership) a full twelve years ago at age 38.  Her kids were 6 and 9 at the time.   It was really really good to talk, to know that she is still here, with one kid in college and one in high school, and she is here to go looking at colleges, worry about her son out with the car, and all the other stuff of life.

I suppose the more I am in this world, the more people I will encounter that have also had cancer, which makes sense since I think the numbers are 1 in 3 for cancer in general and 1 in 8 for breast cancer.  I am not looking forward to the impending baldness, at which time I will visually become an object of sad looks with my universal cancer patient pate.  Ani thinks I should get a flowing blonde wig like the hot coach's wife on Friday Night Lights.