Preface^7

Preface

(Otherwise Known as My Last Ritual)

7

am a creature of habit. I find things in this world that I like, and I do those

things again and again because they make me feel good. These regular rituals

are usually simple things. I meditate with my iguana on my lap or let my

ferret run around my bedroom, her little butt running faster than her front

end until she trips over herself again and again. At night, I watch the O’Reilly

Factor at 11 p.m. with my mother, and in the morning I buy a bottle of

Mountain Dew on my way to work.

In the course of writing this book, almost all of this has changed. My iguana and

ferret died within days of each other, despite every effort to save them. It felt as if my

heart had been ripped from my chest. I had fed my iguana Fred some grapes from

Chili, and the next morning she was horribly ill. Then I fed a grape to Thumper never

thinking that grapes from a grocery store could be poison. Shortly thereafter, she took

ill. In my attempts to save them, each of these friends took their final breath after days

of being stuck with needles and IVs. So not only did I kill them, but in my great effort to

save them I caused them to leave this world thinking I was a monster.

Right when I thought my heart couldn’t feel any more pain, the war in Iraq began.

At the time, I assured my mother that the people of this great nation would rise to

support its brave men and women. I was confident that despite politics and party lines,

I

d WB Preface.p65 7 7/11/2003, 5:45 PM