My mom agreed, but mostly because if I get older than so does she. And my best friend agreed because she’s like 305 days older than I am.

And now for a little back story: A few years ago I picked up a book called The Idiot Girls’ Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro. I read it, laughed till I cried, blew snot bubbles and very nearly peed myself. Then I called my mom and read her the chapter “All Smut and Perverts” because I’ve had very similar conversations with my mom about internet and various technology. Have I ever mentioned that my mom  got mad when I told her she didn’t have to sign her text messages because I knew who they were from? Heh. Then my mom laughed till she cried and snorted and blew snot bubbles.

Since then, we’ve made various friends and family members, like my former beauty queen cousin read the book. As it turned out former beauty queen cousin (BQC) was the only one who could attend the book signing when Laurie Notaro came to Memphis. And, she had my copy of the book with her and got it sign. And told Laurie Notaro the story about me reading my mom that chapter out of the book. When she signed my book, she wrote that I could sell it to my mom for a dime on ebay! It was the best thing ever. Until my birthday.

This year, admist the various Happy Birthday! notes on my facebook wall:

I squeed! Then I texted my mother, and the conversation went like this:

me: OH MY GOD Laurie Notaro left a happy birthday message on my Facebook page! Did you pay her?

mom: I could lie and say yes so I would be a most awesome mom… Or tell the truth and say no which means u must be memorable to her and rightfully so.

mom: BQC will be sooooo jealous

And that is how the worst birthday ever became awesome.

I have a confession to make: when someone whose opinion I generally trust tells me they didn’t like a particularly book, I generally won’t read it. But, in the case of The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan, I’m glad I made an exception. And, honestly, I’m probably going to give anything with zombies a chance.

The Forest of Hands and Teeth is narrated by Mary, a girl who has spent her entire life living in village surrounded by a chain-link fence. On the other side of the fence is the forest of hands and teeth, the unconsecrated, otherwise known as zombies. Mary grew up listening to the stories her mother told of a world before the unconsecrated, of a world full of things Mary has never known, like the ocean. The novel progresses by looking for the answer to one question: Can Mary ever be happy in her small repressive caged world, where she’ll always wonder about the ocean?

Ten Reasons Why You Should Read This Book:
1. Zombies. Do you really need any other reason?
2. There’s a love story, if you’re in to that sort of thing. But, I warn you it’s a star-crossed sort of love.
3. Creepy religious sects. Creepy religious sects with secrets.
4. Post-apocalyptic tales are kick ass.
5. Tales that are post-apocalyptic because of zombies are even better.
6. This story was particularly appealing to me because it takes places after the zombies come back, where as most zombie movies (I think this is the first zombie book I’ve read) occur when the dead first start coming back.
7. It’s a YA selection, which means it’s safe for most reading audiences. There’s no graphic blood and guts and no strong sexual themes.Though I think one could make a case for some implied sex, but it could probably be argued either way and a younger reader probably wouldn’t pick up on it. I just have a dirty mind, I guess.
8. The personal relationships were interesting. Everyone had their own agenda, and it’s most obvious in Mary, the main character, but they all hurt each other for their own gain. I’m not sure there was anyone who didn’t betray someone’s love and trust.
9. It is, in its own way, a coming of age story. Mary’s young and trying to find out who she is and what her place in the world is. And if there is even still a world to have a place in.
10. Did I mention there are zombies?

Y’all (sounds like yawl)- you all, all of you. Example: What are y’all doin’ on the Fourth?

And finally, something I never realized I said, but as soon as it was out of my mouth the other day, I twitched. The words out of my mouth were, “Idinit great?”

And, in the event that you are on the phone talking to, or meet someone with a Southern accent, it is not okay to say, “Oh! You’re Southern! How cute.” It might make me inclined to tell you what the phrase “bless your heart” really means here in the South.

*This guy is neither Southern, nor funny.

Apparently, I’m not the only one with critter issues. For about a week, my dad  thought their dog, Gracie, was eating the cat food. There was a lot of yelling and scolding, and I’m sure even more time spent outside for being a bad dog. Then, according to my dad my mother came running in their bedroom about ten at night, screaming bloody murder, in hysterics, because there was a possum in the kitchen. My mom doesn’t really do hysterics, unless there’s a very large spider involved (a genetic trait she passed on to me) so when my dad says she was completely freaking out, not only can I totally picture it in my head, I believe him.

Much like I did not believe that there was a R. O. U. S. in my backyard, my father did not believe there was a possum chillin’ in his kitchen.

The thing you need to know about possums is:  they are not cute. They are mean, they have beady little eyes, and they are not afraid of you even if they are in your kitchen eatin’ your cat food.They’re big, we’re talking cocker spaniel big, and they have teeth! Sharp, pointy teeth that can bite you and probably give you rabies.

The husband and I used to live in an apartment complex that had lot of trees and a walking trail through a wooded area. The main road through the complex was all twisty and turny. At the time I was working the late shift and it was usually about eleven at night before I was home. One night I was driving through the darkest part of the complex (huge trees on either side) and ahead on the road I see two tiny shining eyes. I thought it was a cat or small dog, until I get closer and can actually see the animal in my headlights. It was the biggest freakin’ possum I have ever seen. It was sitting in the middle of road blocking the way. It bared its teeth at me and hissed!

“Fine,” I said, “I’ll just wait on you. Be that way.”

And so, in the middle of the night I waited for this giant, genetically altered possum to decide it was done sitting in the middle of the road and move on.  Have you ever seen a deer hit a car? The car is totaled and the deer saunters off slightly stunned shaking its head? That’s how big this possum was, and I just wasn’t going to mess with that.

So, back to my mom and her hysterics. My dad gets out of bed and sure enough there was a possum in the kitchen fixin’ itself a midnight snack! Also, at some point, it had taken a dump on the bathroom floor. This little guy had made himself at home. Although according to my dad he wasn’t so little. When  I asked my dad how big it was he spread his hands out like he does when you ask him how big that fish he caught was. But my mom confirmed, much like my Bill, this guy was quite well fed.

It was also apparent from this creature’s familiarity with the layout of the house, that he’d been visiting via the pet door for quite some time.  My dad did a humane catch and release, but refused to name him.

I’ve heard if he comes back, they’re adopting him.

“This morning there was a large thing in the backyard. It looked at me.”

“Was it a squirrel?” I asked him.

“I know what a squirrel looks like!”

“Fine,” I said wondering what kind of crack he’d been smoking. It’s not that I have a habit of not believing my husband, it’s more like I’m not inclined to think there’d be a large land mammal wandering around in our fenced backyard. It’s not like we have a dog or anything. One of our cats is a little on the weighty side, but she’s too much of a wuss to go outside. About two weeks later I was walking through the kitchen, sweating bullets (because it’s been 100 in Memphis since April), on my way to the fridge for a cold beverage. I passed the picture window, and stopped in front of the back door which is mostly glass, opened the fridge door, and did a massive double-take.

“WTF!” I yelled, except the actual words, I’m trying to keep this blog PG13, people. I immediately followed that statement with, “IS THAT?!”

About two feet off the the far edge of the patio was, in fact, a large land mammal of some sort. I’m peering through the blinds on the back door, trying to get a better look, when my husband walks in the kitchen and says, “I told you there was a thing back there!” It was waddling around eating weeds in my backyard, clover more specifically. I tried to get some good pictures, but that thing could move! I accidentally bumped the camera into the glass on the door, and The Thing heard me. It stood up on it’s back legs, looked around, saw me looking at it, and ran. Under our shed. It ran and hid under the shed, in my backyard. So, I called my mom. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t call my mom for everything, but unlike me she hasn’t spent her entire life living in the city. She can identify critters other than opossums, squirrels, and raccoons the size of cocker spaniels.

“What did it look like?” my mom asked.

“Um… sort of like a really big beaver and a porcupine had a baby?” Understand, my experience with animals other than the ones listed above extends to the occasional dead armadillo on the interstate, and nature documentaries.

“Well,” my mom says giggling, ” Maybe it’s a beaver. Do you have any standing water?”

“Oh, only when it rains. I don’t think the tail is big enough for it to be a beaver.”

“You should google it!” So after the extremely non-informative conversation with my mother, my husband and I started googling animals that we thought it might be and looking at the pictures. It wasn’t a badger, a beaver, a warthog, a porcupine, or an anteater. It wasn’t a two-toed sloth, a meerkat, or a chipmunk.   It was a groundhog! Also known as a woodchuck, and sometimes referred to as a whistle-pig (according to wikipedia, anyway). And, I think it’s important to note here, that my birthday happens to be on February 2nd. I accept presents and other bits of bribery, just so you know.

My husband has named him Bill. According to Wikipedia (which is where everyone goes for accurate information, right?) groundhogs typically weigh between 4 and 9 pounds. Groundhog Bill is apparently THE MOTHER of all groundhogs, because he’s bigger than my spoilt twelve pound house cat.

When I went to my parent’s house over the weekend, my mom gave me a carrot to bring home for Bill. I put the carrot on the patio next to our awesome raised flowerbed, and my husband said, “You’re not going to cut it up for him?” We’ve named him and yes, he is cute, but I am not cutting up a carrot for a groundhog that lives under my shed.

*If you are a woman and you do this, shame on you! It’s not cute and it is not endearing. Stop now, you’re making the rest of us look bad.

Up next week… Reasons why you should never call me sweetie, unless you want a knuckle sandwich.

Without further ado, compiled from my own experiences as a homeowner, the top ten indicators that your house may be possessed by evil spirits:

1. Even though your house passed the termite inspection, you discover an active colony eating your closet the week before you move in.
2. The washing machine that came with the house breaks the day you moved in.
3. The only living things in your backyard are moles, ants, spiders, and wild strawberries.
4. The garage door occasionally stops moving half way up the track and starts caving in on itself.
5. Your house was built on something that could easily pass for a swamp. If your yard has ever sucked your shoe off, it qualifies.
Think Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail, “When I first came here, this was all swamp. Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show them. It sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp.”
6. Your house is a cellphone dead spot for most carriers.
7. Every time it rains your backyard becomes a swimming pool, very much like that scene in the movie Poltergeist.
8. There are several holes in the padding underneath the carpet which you discover by managing to step in them and nearly break your neck because your ankle turns in a funny direction it was never meant to.
9. At least once a month your shower-head pops off and nearly beats you to death.
10. Your roof starts to leak because a hole magically appears in it near a vent. Luckily the water spot develops in the bathroom over the bath tub. Unluckily, your wall then starts to mold.

Also, a few months after we moved in our water heater very nearly exploded. It flooded our garage. Our walk-in closet is on the same wall, directly on the other side from the water heater. We didn’t realize until a few days later that it had also flooded the back of our closet. At least that didn’t mold. This is the kind of house where you never say, “What next?” Because our house takes it as a challenge.

So, um… does any one know a good exorcist? I don’t think there’s a listing for that in the yellow pages.