Six legs too many
It’s spider season again. Time to break out my double-wammy industrial-strength pow-wow… ummmmm, concoction.
Spiders??? Oh Bon, surely you can’t be talking about now… it’s June!!!… simply can’t be. In any case, I’m sure the problem is minutely miniscule…
Ahem. Never mind the Fall season when you see all the Wolf ‘writing’ spiders. Ole Bon’s spiders say the time is now. Every morning I go down two sets of stairs looking like a zombie – left arm filled with my workbag, purse, lunch and sometimes trash, and right arm waving back and forth in front of me like a freaking moron. If I try to throw in a glance around myself to make sure no one’s watching, I lose balance and almost fall down the steps – it must be hilarious to watch. As recently as this morning, I was clotheslined by yet another invisible web on the second floor. I promptly **dropped** everything and completed two full 360’s all while appearing to have a seizure, all done in order to entertain the average viewer. You are welcome.
This takes me back to when I first moved in my current residence. It was May of ’08, and the first thing I noticed was a spider infestation. The couple that resided here for ten years prior to me were elderly, and it didn’t seem to bother them. Enter Bon. Believe me when I say it did bother me. Apparently my predecessors either a) didn’t care about the spiders or b) literally couldn’t see them. I’m shooting for the latter. I mean, these people were in their 90’s…
I was absolutely horrified. Here I was, finally, in my own little condo – perfect in every way except for a spider infestation. The balcony seemed to be the worst, so that’s where I picked to start. I made a trip to the local hardware store and bought a gallon-sized industrial strength pesticide which even came equipped with a strong pump-stream system. Just pull back on the external trigger nozzle until completely loaded, and that baby’ll spray for a full 20 seconds at warp speed. Once I positioned myself on the stepladder and started spraying through the rafters, I completed the first two walls rather quickly. All the sudden the damn things started coming out by the dozens, spinning their long silk and swinging towards me. I immediately felt like a character out of a Stephen King book, already visualizing myself taking that accidental fall from a ladder over a third story ledge. I’m not talking small spiders – the littlest ones were about the size of my thumbprint, and that doesn’t include legs. These ‘things’ had been allowed to infest the place for so long that they had ‘morphed’ into some sort of amazon gargantuan thing not from this planet. A mega-spider, if you will. I panicked screamed. Ducked left, ducked right, and finally ducked inside – all while cursing myself for spraying more than one wall at a time, in turn pretty much barricading myself out of my home. Finally, after a couple of days of exterminating (one wall at a time from here on out, thank you) the porch was wiped clean of spiders.
Ahhhh… I am victorious!! And so was born the quest for a huge superhero applique for the front of my t-shirt. SB, for SuperBon. Or maybe even SpiderBon.
What I neglected to address in my extermination efforts was the fact that I may well have pushed some most of them indoors. Maybe they existed beforehand, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that within those couple of days, more and more spiders began making their glorious appearing indoors – and that didn’t work for me. One night, I pulled back the comforter and sheets to get in bed – unveiling two very large black spiders smack-dab* in the middle of my bed. Realizing their newfound exposure, one shoots off to the right and the other to the left (again, like something fresh out of a nightmare). To this very day I maintain those things were mating in my bed. I managed to kill one, but never found the other. As for me, I remained in a light-filled room sitting upright in the fetal position for the rest of the night. Tucking my knees under my chin, I balled my eyes out. And come morning, I was completely unrecognizable by the people closest to me – although by this point it was questionable as to whether I had actually been bit by spiders and might be having a bad allergic reaction that swelled my entire face up.
I can laugh about all of this now. It wasn’t at all long after the ‘bed incident’ that I was completely spider-free… thanks once again to the heroic efforts of SuperBon/SpiderBon.
(But I wouldn’t want to do it all again.)
*Southern Slang definition of the day: Smack-dab: squarely, and directly.
My way
It’s beautiful out today – true summertime in every since of the word. Honestly it seems like the first day of summer was over a month ago, never mind the fact it’s still a week away. Back to the days of leaving your windows cracked two inches and placing that anti-seat/steeringwheel-burner-device-thingy in your windshield.
I get a treat today, going to ‘get my hair did’ after work. I consider it a treat because I haven’t been for a haircut since January, and haven’t had it colored since last summer. I ought to just shock the hell out of everybody and go short and red. Being that my stylist knows me personally, I don’t think she’d do it even if I asked her.
Cooked a big old pot of s’ghetti last night. I really enjoy cooking it ‘my way’ (great, now I’ll have Sinatra in my head all day). For 20+ years, all I was ‘allowed’ to have in it was the meat and sauce, and that sauce better not have any visible onions in it or said meal would be ruined. Oh, I could add some garlic salt, forgot about that. Even too many tomatoes in the sauce would constitute a 10-minute period of ‘picking them out’, one by one, until a nice little pile was accumulated beside the now lukewarm/cool plate of spaghetti.
I now put fresh minced garlic in it, and cut up a vidalia onion and green pepper. Add a can of mushrooms to the sauce, throw in a large can of diced & spiced tomatoes, and my little array of spices don’t forget the cayenne pepper. Let that puppy sit in the fridge for a day and have it for dinner that next night… simply delectable. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. 🙂
Friday yet?
No material today, so thought I’d throw in a laugh or two. Hopefully.
Poor fella. Wish I were him.
Mind your manners.
You GO, studmuffin.
Caption already noted.
This guy gets my vote for ‘funniest face of the year’.
The last end-result of the catastrophic Gulf oil spill.
Eventually
As I sit here once again pondering life (mine, not others), the word ‘eventually’ is hangin’ around in my brain. It’s a pretty cool word actually, if you really think about it…
Eventually. The definition varies from source to source. “Finally, at a future point in time” or “in the course of time”, and “at an unspecified later time: in the end”.
All things eventual.
I generally see positive in the word. All things bad will eventually come to an end. Eventually, I’ll get that boat I’ve always wanted. I feel like crap, but I know I’ll eventually feel better. I know all my hard work will eventually pay off. The sun will come back out eventually. Eventually, this oil spill thing will be fixed. (Are we still calling it a spill?)
NOT ‘If keep drinking like this eventually my liver’s gonna fail me.’
Promise. Hope. Yeah – that’s how I see it.
New Year, New Beginnings
2009 – a colorful year it’s been for me. In addition to my love for the ocean, there’s actually a hidden reason behind why I chose my particular banner picture, which I pasted a copy of below.
Color.
Those who know me know that my ‘word of the year’ chosen to represent 2008 was Monumental. 2008 was my year of change, a change that required an extreme strength and perseverance – the type of strength I thought never could exist in me. For this reason I believe the word Monumental to be ever so fitting for that year.
I find it just as fitting to associate the word Colorful with my year of 2009. In this little rainbow prismatic year of mine, I’ve basically created a complete series of making mistakes and learning from them. But never mind the mistakes I’ve made, or the repercussions from them – I still have to look back and smile, at all of it. I’ve come to realize how I’ve grown and have been made a better person now, by just having been associated with some new people that came in and out of my life.
I look at it this way. 2008, the last half of it anyway, started out as a shockwave. Fast-forward to sorrow, self-pity, and finally moving into that godforsaken lonely empty feeling. As I moved into 2009, the search was on. For what… I didn’t know. I was however reaching out for something, with arms wide open. I found that, like a butterfly who had just discovered her wings, the world was mine for the taking. The territory left unchartered was endless. So many opportunities, and so much lost time. Nope – the objects I landed on weren’t always in my best interest. I’ve taken much from these experiences though – through weathering the storms and learning some pretty hard lessons. I’ve found that it’s how we react and learn from our mistakes that will determine our success in life, or lack of it.
Hmm. Can’t help but wonder what my word of 2010 will be.
Banner picture for 2009
Christmas pasts
No, I didn’t spell it wrong, or mis-phrase it. The way it reads just makes more sense to me. Not Christmases, or Christmases past. But rather the many ‘pasts‘ that stick out in my mind whenever I think of Christmas.
Barringer. A brand new pair of shiny black patent leather lace-up boots from my uncle and aunt. Came all the way up to my knees, they did. I laced ’em up right there on the couch as soon as I unwrapped them, my family laughing while my uncle videotaped me. Back then, these videos landed on movie reels. That same year in ’73 I got a jewelry box slammed full of jewelry…. I felt like a princess with all that bling. A princess with mega bling and shiny black boots. I didn’t know it at the time, but the pattern of my taste in life was forming, even then.
Collingwood. Mom and Mammaw had both worked that Christmas eve. Still in her uniform, Mammaw was so exhausted that she laid down in the floor right underneath that Christmas tree. My uncle, Mom’s youngest brother, trotted in with many bags and a huge stuffed dog that was taller than me. That dog ended up being mine, it was too big to wrap. Every year he would go out on Christmas eve and to do his Christmas shopping, hauling the load in at the last minute for Mom and Mammaw to wrap up. That night, Mom laid down with me to get me to sleep so that Santa could come. She fell asleep with me, and Mammaw decided to let her sleep. Later that night, through the bedroom window, I saw my Mammaw and uncle dragging a new bike in for me – to Bon, from Santa. 🙂
Old Dowd. A box FULL of new books. Not any old box – I’m talking a box of epic proportions. There must’ve been 40-50 new books in that one box. The Little House on the Prairie collection, several Tom Sawyer adventures, Little Women, and so many more that I can’t remember. I recall sleeping with some of those books that night, the smell of fresh new books was intoxicating. It was an awesome gift that I enjoyed for many years, from my loving Mama.
Hartford. Ham and lots of goodies to eat. Great uncle J talking with no one listening. My first pair of designer jeans, Calvin Klein himself embroidered on the rear pocket. They were too small and had to be exchanged later, but it was official – I was now cool. Maybe not in my peers eyes, but definitely in my own! Archie, the family dog, gets to experience his once-a-year visit inside the house – much resembling the running of the bulls with the addition of a red Christmas bow stuck to his head.
Ever notice the memories of your childhood Christmas pasts usually involve the gifts you received? The ones that made the biggest impact on you often stick in your memory like glue.
Sloan. My Mother’s boyfriend. I wasn’t so sure about this guy…. didn’t think his intentions were quite up to par with what I knew she deserved. Besides, who did he think he was trying to horn in on our family time? I go my own way, where I want, when I want. Hell I just moved back in from being gone for almost a year, and this guy’s practically running the show. Then again, my Mammaw seems to like him. Mammaw’s a pretty good judge of character, and she’s rarely wrong. Hmm, he gave me a stereo for Christmas. This guy may not be all bad. I’ll just have to keep my eye on him.
Fort Mill. My precious little baby girl made out like a bandit, and I’m so glad. Christmas is different now, somehow… I can’t quite put my finger on why, but know enough to realize it involves the newest part of me – my baby daughter. So THIS is why they say that children make Christmas. I have a family of my own now, added to my existing family, plus my new extended family – that of my husbands. Wow, this holds promise of getting a bit hectic. But hey, that’s Christmas! Oh, and that boyfriend of Mom’s? He’s now my stepdaddy, and pawpaw to my baby girl. And a fine job he’s doing at both.
Abbey/Village Lake. Blessed Christmases. Always blessed, always getting way more than we deserve. It’s not necessarily gifts that stick out in my mind now, rather it’s the multitude of bounties our families bestow upon us during Christmas that seems to always catch us up. We all truly have an abundance, thanks given to our families and God. Okay, there is one time around this era where gifts really do stick out. That would be the Christmas when my husband accidentally threw all his gifts away.
Scarlet. Mammaw’s sick. Really sick. She insisted on getting through Christmas without a hospital visit, but this was a bad idea. She can barely breathe, both her face and body are really swollen. Congestive heart failure is what it ends up being – little did we know then. Fast forward to another Christmas. Pawpaw isn’t feeling well. He’s trying to deal, but running a fever, thinks it’s the flu. It might’ve been the flu then. But it wasn’t the flu that caused his heart to fail in front of us two weeks later.
Poplar Forest. New house, and so proud to have Christmas here. Much has changed in past years, we have two who are no longer with us and are reminded of that pain especially during the holidays. Baby girl is continuing to grow into a fine young lady – downside of this is gifts are getting much harder to pick for her. My most memorable gift – my wedding ring set that my husband had reset from yellow into white gold, given to me on Christmas eve. Little did either of us know then of what was to come in the near future.
Hamilton’s Harbor. I have only one Christmas here, so far – but in a couple of weeks I’ll have two, and with that more memories made. The one Christmas here consisted mainly of my past memories. This can be a good thing, as well as being detrimental – but I have to remember that every single thing we’ve experienced and endured in our lives shapes the person we are today. You either learn and grow… or you let it defeat you. Things change, life changes, and we must go on.
‘God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.’ ~James Matthew Barrie, Scottish dramatist & novelist; best known as the creator of Peter Pan
Life of Bon 
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