Gotta Love Those Chicks

I'm a diehard Dixie Chicks fan. Have been for 10 years now. I've bought all their albums, seen them live, have the world tour dvd. But none of that prepared me for the power of the documentary "Shut Up and Sing." Yeah, I finally got to see it. The disadvantage of living in hickville is that they don't show movies like that up here. So, it's out on dvd. And Jamie and I finally rented it today. And OH MY FUCKING GOD...it's amazing.

We're all familiar with the story, at least those of us who haven't lived under a rock for the last three years are familiar with the story. How America's sweethearts went from biggest selling country group to hated media targets over 11 words that every one seems to agree with these days. So, okay, you might think what else can be added to the experience of the media frenzy. But, oh, it's so much more.

First of all, it's a beautiful demonstration of free speech in America. And media hypocrisy in America. But, more than that, it's a demonstration of togetherness and sisterhood that has been so lacking in the American awareness since this idiot president took office. It shows the fear that we, as liberals and moderates, felt when speaking out against this huge right wing conservative spin machine. And it highlights the bravery of these women, who were willing to speak out, even knowing that continuing to do so would irreparably damage their careers.

And let's face it people, it takes balls to stand next to someone who is targeted by the crazy conservatives and say, yeah, we support our friend, our sister. And to do it so publicly when their careers and some might even suggest their safety were on the line. It's not like there were large groups of people agreeing with them. We that agreed were few and far between and it sure as hell wasn't our voices that were being heard.

So, if you haven't seen it, go out and see it. If you haven't heard their latest album, which is so achingly beautiful, go buy it. Bravery like that should be rewarded.

Call Me The Crazy Rat Lady

Okay, so we went back to the pet store looking for a larger cage for our three boys. Because, of course, a cage big enough for one rat is not a cage big enough for three rats. While the pet shop didn't have any larger cages, they did have two beautiful larger siamese rats. Rats that had been pets, but were now being sold as "feeders." Now, I like snakes. I even understand that snakes need food. But, I have a hard time with the idea of feeding pets to snakes. Plus, putting a rat into a snake's cage so the snake can kill the terrified creature seems unsporting to me. Now, in the wild, the rat has the chance to escape and it's more fair. However, in a terrarium, there is no escape, so even if the snake isn't hungry the rat has no where to go until the snake decides to make the rat lunch.

But, I digress. So, of course I bought the beautiful feeder boys. And they are huge. Two handers. They have been christened Niblet and Squish. And the names are self explanatory.

So, then, off we went to the feed store which carries larger cages and we bought a large two story cage, plus accessories, then headed home to set the boys up. Well, we soon realized that the larger cage would accomodate about 4 rats comfortably and the smaller cage would house two rats comfortably. So, Jamie and I spent tonight dismantling the cages and putting them together into one monster of a cage that stands nearly five feet tall. I made a bunch of hammocks, and Jamie and I made them a lovely rope ladder. And now the rats live in lovely rattie mansion. Which is perched atop Cera's crate, because that's the only place we have for it. Cera is not entirely unhappy with the situation because it gives her a legitimate reason to lay underneath the cage and stare in hunger.

So, five rats out of "hey, let's get Cassidy a rat." Sigh...so, I'm not going to the pet store anymore...we just don't have the room.

Rats Don't Like To Be Dirty...

Okay, so the thing about furbabies is that they don't allow you to wallow in your misery for any longer than they can possibly help.

Mr. Sprinkles, Dobby and Golem were hanging out with me on the couch last night. We were having a marvelous time, they were getting attention, I had my attention diverted. And luckily the fog in my brain is dissipating a bit. (Remember to take your pills next time, nitwit!!) Anyway, Dobby and Sprinkles moved to the crook of my arm and were chilling there and I was giving Golem my undivided attention. Suddenly, Sprinkles, who is the most vocal rat I've ever had suddenly stopped chittering happily and made what I can only describe as the ratty ick sound. I look down and Dobby has poohed on my arm. Now, anyone who has ever had rats or had much experience with them knows that this happens and that it really isn't that big of a deal. However, Sprinkles, like every other rat I've ever known, objects to other rats pellets. And he had accidentally squished a pellet between his paw and my arm. Now, hard little pellets that are easy to clean up quickly lose the ick factor, but squished pellets are different. Anyway, Sprinkles was totally grossed out by the rat pooh on his little paw, so he looked at it, then reached out and wiped all the pooh on my arm...little bugger.....

Anyway, so after much icking and laughing, I put the little buggers back in their cage and discovered that I was feeling quite a bit happier.

So, while I don't know that rat pooh is the next big thing in antidepressants, little ratty ick faces go along way towards dispelling one's gloom....