Yeah, I know. I am incapable of restraint when it comes to the bird aisle at the pet store. I am a weak, weak woman in the bird aisle at the pet store. Let's review, shall we?

Okay, so I got the birdseed. Fine. Standard operating procedure. One two pound bag of birdseed, three dollars. I can respect that. And of course, millet seed. Which they love so much that they'll eat it out of my hand, so I always buy it. Speaking of which, I recently discovered baby spinach leaves. I buy ten cents worth of baby spinach leaves, bring them home, hold them out to Phoebe, and she tears into them like mad. And woe to Pigwidgeon if he tries to approach the spinach leaf: she goes straight for his head like she's on PCP.

It's endearing, really. Reminds me of Cassie.

So anyway, I also got them these round little treats they've never had before. I figure I can try hand feeding those, also. And then I got another canister of food, this "Greens and Grains" bird food. I figure they need their greens. It's important! It's a justifiable expense! It's vegetables! Your grandma would approve!

Okay. And then I got this perch for Pigwidgeon, which is the most expensive thing I got. But Pigwidgeon needs it because he is, and there's no polite way to put this, deformed in the foot region. Specifically, his toes don't curl. It's weird but true. Therefore, he's more comfortable standing on flat surfaces. So I got him this huge perch that has a lot of surface space for him to spread his flat feet.

It's like the perch version of a handicapped parking space. And I can't deny my deformed bird his handicapped parking space. That's just mean.

And then I got this mesh thing that goes all around the bottom of the cage, which is supposed to stop seeds from flying everywhere. And god knows, it would be nice to put on a sweater that doesn't have eight zillion bird seed husks clinging to it. (The cage is on top of my dresser, which is broken: none of the drawers close anymore because the bottoms are all falling out. So the birdseed goes straight onto the clothes in my half-open drawers. You know you envy my life.)

And it's important for birds that they aren't bored, so you're supposed to swap out their toys every once in a while. So I got them a new mirror with colored beads on it, and a new bell toy with a sort of rotating plastic thingie on it. Hard to explain, but looks like they could have fun with it. I put those toys up and took their old mirror and one old toy down.

I also got different types of water and seed dishes, which I hope will cut down on the mess. And a bird bath. Because Phoebe tries to take baths in the water dish, and now she can't anymore because the dish is different, and I was raised Catholic and so I felt guilty about that. I also got a bird ladder, which I've been wanting for awhile, but it's just sitting in the drawer right now because I don't want to give them everything at once. (They can have seven zillion new things. Not seven zillion and one.)

I think that's everything. Man. $45 worth of crap for my birds. Remind me not to have kids.

Ugh. This threat against the bridges is making my stomach knot up. Just for the record, I drive back and forth across the Bay Bridge just about every day. And already I think about earthquakes every time I drive over it. Now, I have terrorism to worry about, too.

So why do I drive, you ask? Well, it's faster, cheaper and easier for me than taking the BART. Faster because I usually drive at off hours, and it turns out even morning traffic isn't so bad. Cheaper because it's a $2 toll as opposed to a $6 trip on BART. (I know I use gas. It doesn't count.) And easier because finding a parking place at the BART station is virtually impossible, whereas in the city, I have a faculty parking spot on good days, and I can always find parking one way or another.

Another benefit to using the bridge: that view. Every single time the skyline of San Francisco comes into view, I feel a thrill. It's different each time-- some days it's cloudless and clear, other days there are puffy clouds in the sky and dappled sun on the buildings. There are the foggy days, where you can barely see the tip of the Transamerica Pyramid, or days when the water is rough and choppy. I know that I'm seriously depressed when I find myself on the other end of the bridge without having noticed the view.

Now, I can't see the view without feeling melancholy. I look at the Golden Gate across the bay and remember the gorgeous day we walked across it. I'd be too frightened to take that walk this week. I always look at it now with thankfulness that it's still there.

But, life goes on. And now that I have chiropractor appointments in the city, I can't not use my car. I just keep thinking of how there was a threat against the movie studios, but my sister still went to work. And there were threats against the Sears Tower, and all the people inside the tower still went to work.

I guess the difference is that I don't, technically, need to use the bridge. I could go out of my way and avoid it if it was absolutely necessary. But I have no idea what's necessary. So not only would changing my commute be inconvenient, it seems like cowardice, too. I'm scared, all the same. I wish I lived in Nowhere, Nebraska.

Everyone think good thoughts for me and for my fellow bridge-goers. I'll do my part. I'll drive across the bridge as quickly as possible, and I won't sit next to anyone with a bowling bag.

"Today, for example, I was driving home, past the bay, and I caught a glimpse of a spectacular sunset. The clouds, outlined in pink and purple, were reflected in the waters of the bay, and the Golden Gate bridge was a vague outline in the distance. It made me grin from ear to ear. There's nothing like a sunset to give me 'the flash' like that."