The Boa Constrictor in my backyard (Jennifer, Tara and other snake fearing friends, you might want to skip reading this terrifying tale of life and death)

I'm all for respecting all God's creatures and I'm totally, totally in favor of those reptile guys who come to elementary schools and let little kids pet otherwise horror-inducing creatures in a safe and even fun environment, but if snakes aren't the pure, unholy incarnation of evil, I don't know what is. I was getting the mail the other day when I noticed the some tall grass just a few feet away moving in a suspicious manner and I didn't even have a chance to move a safe distance from whatever it was before I saw what it was and it was a snake, godamnit. A SNAKE. A long, black snake, and it didn't have any weird markings or enormous fangs or anything but I was fairly certain it could take my life if it wanted to so I retreated fast, my survival skills in high gear.

I was ok with it - we live in North Carolina, not Manhattan - and I know there are things like snakes around, I'd just appreciate it if they'd keep out of my way, just like I keep out of their way, and I don't, you know, venture into their dens, or whatever the hell it is snakes live in, where they concoct their potions, and I don't know, worship Satan from time to time - anyway, the point is, I think they should try and keep out of my yard.

When telling J about the incident this morning, he asked me to describe the snake, how big it was, and all that specific nonsense he's interested in, overlooking the obvious point that IT WAS A SNAKE IN OUR YARD WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW? I spread my fingers wide to try and illustrate it's thickness to him, at which point he told me that it was impossible a snake that wide, like a boa constrictor or python, was living in our yard. I also told him it was several feet long, and he looked at me, again, like I was crazy, a crazy, snake-fearing woman who makes up stories and cowers indoors, afraid of nature, harmless, everyday, nature.

But that's just the thing. Since my close encounter I haven't been cowering indoors, I've been bravely venturing to all parts of our front and back yards, sure that I'd never see my little buddy again, so you can imagine my surprise when I was out back a few hours ago, heard a rustling behind me, turned around and saw, once again, a long black snake, just inches from my flip-flop clad feet. Inches. I don't know if it was the same snake, but once I'd reached the safe ("safe" being a relative term - we're being invaded) confines of my carport I took a good, hard look at it, slithering through the grass, it's body a writhing S shape (Jesus Christ, how do they live with themselves?) and determined that if it wasn't the same snake, it was a very close relative. Just as long as I'd told my disbelieving husband. Long enough to strangle me. Long enough to inflict fear in the hearts of courageous men.

As I continued with the things I was doing outside, I spoke out loud to the it - even though I couldn't see it anymore, I was pretty sure it was there - telling it I knew what it was up to, and that it had another think coming if it thought it could just live with us in our yard, just like part of the family.

If I see it again, I might have to take some drastic measures. Like moving. The crazy thing is I've never really been afraid of snakes, just like I've never really had a problem with mice, or cockroaches - it's just the prospect of never knowing who you're going to run into when you head out back to throw a ball for the dogs. And yeah, I know it's probably not poisonous and can't kill me or anything, but I'm talking quality of life here. And a quality life that's worth living doesn't normally include tiptoeing around your property holding your breath, looking frantically for your enemy, ready to flee at any moment. So all I'm saying is that one of us has got to go, and since I've put up art and pay for cable and all, well, I think we all know which one of us it should be.

Ann Curry, Kurt Vonnegut and other things I've been meaning to write about

I've spent the last couple of days, like most of the nation I'm sure, watching the unbelievable coverage from Virginia Tech, feeling tense, sad and helpless. While I can't express, at least not in any graceful way, how much I feel for the victims' families, friends and everyone affected by the tragedy, I do hope everyone involved gets the support they need during this obviously very difficult time. Whether appropriate or not I don't know, but there are always those breaks in the clouds that remind us why this life is worth living, for instance, while watching the neverending news reports this morning on "The Today Show," J got very excited when Matt Lauer, who is on location in Blacksburg, turned the camera back over to those in the New York City studio, who just so happened to be Ann Curry, Natalie Morales, and another attractive young female, whose name I don't know. No matter, the point it they were sitting on the couch in that pink-hued studio in their nicely tailored suits, and J excitedly looked up from his science paper and said, "Cara, LOOK! Look at them," you know, as though I might share his male enthusiasm for the pretty, unattainable newscasters. I am glad he tells me about his various crushes, however, as I find it adorable he has them. Particularly cute is fondness for Ann Curry, his favorite. Seriously, I don't know what he'd do if she left the show. J reminded me this morning that my father shares the feeling. Apparently one morning when we were home for Christmas vacation, he and J were the only ones up, watching the morning news, and my dad, in the midst of various phone calls, reading the mail, basically holding court from his designated seat in the den, looked up and said, "That Ann Curry, she's an attractive broad."

In other news, I was struck last week by the death of Kurt Vonnegut, whose name always brings up memories of high school for me. The thing is, I wasn't one of those kids obsessed with him, but my friend Matt sort of was and I remember, before he moved away to New Orleans for our senior year (a fate worse than death for two close high school friends), he gave me his copy of "Breakfast of Champions," which was slightly tattered, the pages soft, leading me to believe he'd read it maybe four or five thousand times. This is how I became inducted into Vonnegut's world and I read many of his books afterwards, my favorite being - not "Cat's Cradle," which all the dramatic adolescents seemed to love - "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater," mainly because I found that foot-long pubic hair bit hilarious. I recommend it if you're up for a good laugh. In my mind it's on par with John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces" -that subtle, touching humor.

And of course, in the midst of the incidents that shape our entire world are the lovely, if mundane, harbingers of spring, the fact that bluebirds have once again inhabited the bluebird house in our back yard, built a nest, laid eggs and two new babies hatched just the other day. J says they're featherless and tiny. The azaleas - two shades of pink, as well as white - have blossomed in the front yard, and the dogs have taken to basking in the patches of warm grass when I let them out in the back, that is until they spot a herd of deer in the woods behind our house, or decide to harass the dog next door and all is chaotic again.