Spiders vs. 'Piders

I did battle with a spider today, and nearly lost. I love snakes. In fact, I've had one bigger around than my arm round my neck, but the word "spider" is enough to send me into convulsions...A friend of mine tries to make them sound "less threatening" by referring to Them as "'piders," but it doesn't work. A spider is a spider no matter the name or size. My spider theory--yes, obviously at one point I had too much time to actually develop a theory regarding the brutes--is that if you can see a spider, it's too big. Oh, and it deserves to die. Do NOT believe anyone who say you're a million times bigger than that "little thing," as if that makes them less fearsome. Uh, not to mention that David brought down Goliath.

Anyway, I have a 6th sense about spiders. If they're around, I know it. Just like I knew the one the size of a pinhead was trying to bungee jump onto my shoulder from his tiny little web. Today I was minding my own business--yeah, yeah, surprise of surprises--when I knew one was watching me. I look around, then I saw him, on the curtain. I jumped up and reached for the vacuum cleaner wand. I don't squash--that involves getting near the blasted thing--I suffocate. I don't want to hear "aww" or "how cruel." I'd like to see how you deal with a multi-eyed, eight legged, hideous, ugly, beastly invader. I came near, and I could almost hear his, "Uh oh."

He ran up the curtain and tried to hide in the folds, then when the vacuum cleaner growled, I jumped on my bed, wand in hand. The spider sprang on top of the curtain, and rushed towards me, then stopped as if he had seen this huge, wild-eyed, vacuum-wand-wielding giant, which he had... And tried to head up the wall. That is where he met his maker. Buffy slays vampires, I slay spiders. Not much of a difference, really. The moral of the story? I don't really have one. I hate spider, 'piders, and any other cutesy variations. I also hate that guy who thought it'd be funny to come up behind me with a tarantula, knowing how I felt about even the smallest spider, and stick it in my face. Needless to say he won't be reproducing. No loss to the human race, to be sure.

Harmonica...O how I hate thee!

Here's a pointer for all you would-be, should-be, might-be parents. Don't buy an eight year old a harmonica. My mom made that mistake, and Olivia decided to wake me up playing something a cross between the Mexian Death March and a cat in the trash compactor. I jolted awake, looking like a creature from Shelley's imagination, and behaving like Queen Latifah in "Bringing Down the House."
For a moment, I thought I was dead, but I realized that if that was somebody's idea of a heavenly chorus, they needed lots of help.
Olivia just beamed at me, "I hope you like it because I wrote it for you."
What can you say to that? Really. I just melted into a puddle, and smiled at her, and told her thank you....that I loved it. Can God really hold that teeny lie against me? And I really did feel warmer to it after she told me about it.
I passed mom on the way to the blessed shower, and grumbled, "Was it YOUR idea to buy her that noisemaker?"
She just grinned, and told me that Bethany and I had both had hormonicas.
I told her I didn't remember that. Perhaps I blocked it out.
"I do," she said with emphasis.
I later learned Olivia had dropped it on the street, and it fell apart, nearly getting run over. It survived. Mom put it back together like Humpty freakin' Dumpty, and now as I write this, Olivia is sounding like the Little Engine That Couldn't.

Dentists: Agents of Evil

Today was simply wonderful. If you don't catch the sarcasm, a 800 pound woman named Olga will sneak up on you, and smack you senseless. I had a final dentist appointment today that would last an hour. Did I mention that my dentist's office is located in the butt crack of West Virginia? In that town, there are no "town weirdos," because they're all rather strange.
I was not looking forward to the visit at all, as last time half of my face (even my eyeball) was numb for the rest of the day because her assistant got injection-happy. I had this awesome Al Capone sneer going, but my smile was worthless.

This time they numbed pretty much everything that could be numbed. My tongue felt like it weighed five pounds, and I couldn't feel my lips or face. The assistant--I named her Bloody Mary for the flossing incident of '06, which I'll leave to everyone's clever imaginations--tried to talk to me during the procedure. Okay, I am numb, my tongue and lips are useless, my mouth is held open by a torturous plastic "thingy," and there's a drill in my mouth. I've been told I'm a wonderful conversationalist, but even I'm not that good.

They're shrouded, goggled, and masked as if I am going to contaminate them with cooties or something. They leave me virtually uncovered with tooth dust flying in my contacts. What fun. I learned never to close your eyes when you're at the dentist because they think they killed you. They almost did, I'm sure. I found out that my dentist has husband issues. His voice gives her an instant headache, and she's tired of long days with people in her lap. Okay....And I thought the redneck on parole in the waiting room with punched-lose teeth, and no reading ability had it bad.

After they had finished, I tried to speak, but garbled noises came out...I take pride in my speaking ability, but it was gone for hours. I spoke only when needed, as I sounded like a 3 month old. As if stealing my smile last time wasn't bad enough, they took my speaking ability. This crap lasts six hours.
I found many photo opportunities--strange people (go figure), a burned out store and mannequin (I made the arson investigator kinda suspicious), and a house painted like the American flag (um, don't know what to make of that).

When the opportunity presented itself, I also studied for my math class...

My Return

I have been gone for a very long time, I realize, and I am sorry for that. I just needed some time and space to clear my head, mainly due to the fact that I broke things off with my fiance'. It's been a while now, and I truly have had no second thoughts. I simply regret that he seems to be quite upset now, despite a lack of emotion at the time.

I have felt more like myself since then, and have been focusing more on my art and writing! Right now I am working on two of six novel plots, one of which I have completed fourteen chapters. I am rather excited, because I feel that these stories and characters have a real chance at going somewhere.

I am happy, and I cannot recall the last time I could say that. I have even started dating again, here and there. Being single, and somewhat new to this dating thing (I haven't been single since I was fifteen, and my ex is the only one I really dated), it's thrown me some curveballs, but I am slowly adapting. The only unfortunate thing is that school has started rather abruptly, and I would much rather summer go on....which reminds me, I'll have to write a blog just about my summer, the first I have truly been able to enjoy in years.