I'm torn about this post. My opposition specifically has to do with the discussing of myself.  I enjoy other blogs where personal information is shared since it gives me an insight into that individual, along with fodder to tease them with. But why the frickty frack do I have such a hard time coming to terms with creating a post about myself?  I need convincing that I'm neither vain nor self-important if I choose to discuss myself.  Please bear with me.  In the mean time, I'm going to (hopefully, maybe, we'll see) promise that this will be my last apology about the fact that an up-coming post is all about me.

Continuing on.

We had the pleasure of attending Tasha's birthday party at the zoo. When we stopped to eat lunch, all of the children began to play by the lake at the water's edge.  Asher was getting dangerously close to the water's edge while trying to get a better look at the sun bathing turtles.  I picked up a turtle and brought it back a few feet for the kids to see at a safer distance. That sucker ran lickety split back into the water. The kids thought it was a riot, so I did the same to all the other unsuspecting turtles who were sunning their cold-blooded bodies. We cheered for each turtle as it ran back towards the water and yelled with jubilee as it plunked back into the lake.

This experience was pleasurable for me because it reminded me of fond memories I have as a child. When I was around 6 years old, my mother was dating a man who belonged to the Arizona Herpetological Society, which meant that her and I also became due paying members. The society met at the Phoenix zoo monthly, and it's primary goal was to see to the well being of all things reptile. George the boyfriend was a reptile freak, which, alas, meant that we also became reptile freaks (my mother was already an animal freak, so it wasn't a hard jump to make).

We had a menagerie of reptilian personages in our tiny house.  I'm flooded with memories if I'm visiting a house that contains a reptile, and not because of the cute, spiny, scaly animal, but because of the smell. If you've never smelled a reptile in captivity living in an 800 sq foot house, you're missing out. It STINKS! I quickly became used to the smell, but I'm curious to know what my friends thought when they visited. All of our available wall space was covered with glass aquariums. During the only time I bothered to count, we had 15 snakes and 21 turtles.  Here are a few for your viewing pleasure...

Map Turtle

named so because of it shell markings

Soft Shelled Turtle

They spent most of their time buried underneath the sand. I handled them very carefully because their shells are basically just thickened skin.

Musk Turtle

Kinda fugly looking

Red Eared Slider

This is the primary species found at the zoo. In fact, I think that's where we caught most of our turtles. We would hunt after hours.

Mata Mata Turtle

A bit frighting to look at, but it was one of my favorites.

Boring Old Spotted Turtle

Burmese Python 

Ours was named Kenny. He was over 12 feet long and ate everything from rats to baby rabbits and ducks. LIVE baby rabbits and ducks. He also managed to escape from his cage several times. If he wanted to, he could have killed me in my sleep.

Reticulated Python 

 Dolores was about 10 feet long and also escaped from her cage several times.  The morning after one of her escapades, we noticed one of our Nanday Conure parrots was missing.  Several days later, guess who had green feathers in her poo.

Golden Tegu Lizard 

Blanche had a foul temper and frequently bit our hands. 

 Desert Tortoise

Beloved Frank. Illegal Frank. I LOVED Frank. He ate lettuce from my hand.

Below is a picture that could have landed my mother and George in jail. It's illegal to have a snapping turtle in captivity. This is George and his brother holding Ned our Snapping Turtle.

Just kidding. 

Here is an actual picture of Ned. It's the only real picture I have of one of our pets. His jaws could have bit a finger off.  He ate goldfish and catfood.

Our last featured pet was the only warm blooded animal we owned.  

Conveniently, her name was Violet.  We gave her baths like we would a dog. She was de-scented, but she still smelled of ferret. When she ate, like any well mannered skunk, she would sit upright on her bum with her legs in front of her and nibble on pieces of cat food (a re-occuring theme in our house) that her tiny paws held up to her mouth.

So there you have it. I hope you home schoolers can use this post as a biology lesson. One more bit of interesting news - the Herpetological Society was also responsible for going to people's houses who had unwanted vermin on their property. There were several occasions where my mom and George brought home unwanted rattlesnakes, which we in turn played hostess too for several days.