Spiders are Terrorists

I was sitting in the car, reading In the First Circle by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, minding my own business while waiting for the laundry to finish and along came a speee-ider. It scuttled across the upper portion of my vision, so I look up, already choking on my heart.

“Oh, its a mini tarantula,” came my first thought.

I have never been close enough to see the blue part of its face, nor seen one that big in… oh, ever. I had to look it up later to know the charming blue fangly looking things, below the multitude of beady eyes, is called chelicerae. Fascinating. Really. He meandered across the windshield and ducked into a crack in the pillar between windshield and driver’s window. Isn’t that nice. He has already moved in. So, I named him Moe. Moe also enjoys riding on the rear view mirror while I drive. Isn’t that nice. Moe was treated to me muttering all the way home, “Don’t touch me Moe, and we will be fine.”

Said over and over… I left the sun roof open in hopes Moe would move out. We will see.

Later on tonight, I was again an innocent party to a spider’s terror tactics. I was walking into the bathroom and almost went face first into a brown spider who decided it would be fun times to re-enact Tom Cruise’s part in Mission Impossible. Pretty sure that after my shriek of surprise, Tom Spider was sweating, too. I backed up and decided whatever I was going to do in there wasn’t important. The Foreign National Spider Secret Service really could just do their thing, and I would pretend it never happened.

I suck at Homeland Spider Security detail. If I was paid, they’d fire me.


Formatting Things

Everyone has different formatting requirements and its really no big deal. As long as you don’t panic. Follow the directions. Just. Follow. the. Directions. And. Breathe. But this site has a good spot for formatting that is about as standard as the industry gets so… posting it, here.


Thinking About A Girl on a Flight

Just a bit of ramble. Slice of life and nothing more.

I met a girl on a flight, I got to know her life, and then she was gone. Not dead. No, she left the gate with me and went her way as I went mine. But I think about her, sometimes. A lot, actually. Not for any romantic reason, except to perhaps romanticize what may have happened to her after we parted forever. It feels so awful and final.

And that IS the romantic in me. She was young and scared and as soon as she curled up in her seat beside me she was looking for a way in. She started by commenting on the guy complaining behind us. The whole flight he went on about his ex-wife. The tragedy of her mental illness… well, the tragedy it had wrought on him. She rolled her big brown eyes and whispered, maybe a little too loudly, “OhmyGod that guy could shut up any time now.”

He didn’t. But I smiled and nodded, and the dam broke. I’m a little… non-social? Sometimes, especially when the person beside me is clearly from another world. She was all hip hop flash and younger than I. But she needed me, too. She was terrified. I don’t know how she made it with so much fear, except its how we all do. We just do it and look back and say, Wow.

She told me in intricate detail how she would escape that plane if we went down. Water or land, she had a plan… and it was adorable. I didn’t have the heart to explain to her how we would not be flying over the ocean much, and that anywhere else we’d be dead. Just dead. Smash, crash and exploded bits. And… even an ocean crash isn’t very favorable. I did explain to her that it was much safer to be on a plane, even if ours was having code clearance problems, than any land vehicle on any given day.

I love flying. I love the sense of take off, the g-force, the speed. The only thing I don’t like is how the atmosphere drys me out and I’m constantly sucking down water to compensate. It became us talking, and me learning so much about her. Twenty two and so painfully worldly in such tiny, narrow ways. I am naturally dodgy with questions. I am perhaps the most elusive non-famous person anyone will ever meet. I don’t share things well. Opinions, yes! Philosophy, yes please! Teach me things! I love it. But as for my private life, it is ever so private.  A situation I’m trying to fix. Not only because I lost this girl forever, and didn’t have to.

She had a shine in her eyes, and grateful words for me. We were fast companions. Even if there was not one point at which we hit a high intellectual note. I gave her lots of advice on things that seemed to baffle her, things she genuinely seemed to assimilate. Stuff to me that is so basic, but to other people seems like freakin’ magic. I forget how I’ve educated myself, and how strange that is to the average person.

Not to say I’m anything special. But when you’re twenty two, you haven’t begun to realize that true fun comes with learning. Time behind the grindstone teaches that best. Some people never figure that out, and that is the true shame. She wasn’t the only one I met, or enjoyed talking with, but her need of me I suppose is what impacts me most, even now.

I hope I fly again, soon. I love it so much. I will be crammed near the middle of the plane, by but not at the exit doors, and with strangers. I always am. And if I talk, then I suppose they might talk back. Will they leave a hole behind, like this one did?


Soooo…. I had this weird feeling.  I leaned back a little bit and looked up. Lo, a spider is descending.  I roll back my chair and watch it go down to where it realizes it’s not going to land on my head. It starts to go back up. I grab a pencil and snag its web, shouting a triumphant, “Denied!”

Totally flicked it to the ground. You did not get me! Ha!

I’m starting to win this game, Mother f**kers! Ha Ha ha!