So I Finally Identified that Mysterious Spider...

It's a Trap Door Spider!!!

I know, some of you have no idea what I'm talking about. So, I will again, for your reading pleasure copy and paste (again, because I myself tend to not click on links, I assume the same of you, Gentle Reader) a previous post circa March 29, 2009:

ENJOY!

Hale the Conquering Hero: continued

Caution: If you did not read my previous post, you may want to do so now, in order to have a clear picture. Click here, to read it.

Fast forward 8 years. I am now the mother of a 23 month old and a 2 1/2 year old. The month is November. How can I remember the time so clearly? Well, you see, I know we had recently celebrated Halloween, because my children were in love with all things scary.

"Spider, Mommy! Spider!" They sing-song in their high pitched little girl voices. I was in the kitchen.

"Yep! Spiders! We love spiders! What kind of spider do you have?" You understand, of course, I was merely humoring the little tykes while I did my very important mommy things...

"NO Mommy! A real big spider! On the window!" Again, this announcement is said gleefully.

"Just a minute! I'm busy. I'll come see you're 'real' spider in a minute!" I chuckled and shook my head...Oh those kids and their imaginations....

I finished my task, walked in my living room, and to my horror, on the front bay window is the biggest, scariest spider I've ever seen in my life! Picture a spider as big as a tarantula, but it's NOT a tarantula. It's black. And it's not hairy, like you'd think. Nope, it's smooth, like a black widow, but again it's entirely too humongous to be a black widow. And it's in my house. On my window. In my living room. Actually, on the window isn't exactly right. It was on my sheers on the window side. I was in a panic. There was a giant, killer spider in my house. What was I going to do? I had to protect my children. Their safety was in my hands. I did what any sane, responsible mother of 2 small defenseless children would do.

I called their father.

"Studmuffin? I need you to come home. Now. There's an emergency."

"What's the matter?" His voice echoes concern. I know he's coming to save me. I can feel the relief begin to flow through my veins.

"There is s giant spider in the house. I need you to come home, right now, and kill it!"

"You want me to come home. To kill a spider."

"Yes to kill a spider! It's a giant spider! I told you, it's an emergency! Come. Home. Now." My voice raised a few decibels by this point.

"Babe, I'm not leaving work to kill a spider. You have to take care of it."

"B-b-b-but, it's a big spider. It's scary. I can't kill it. I need you to come home. Now." The girls are now dancing around and singing "Kill the spider Mommy! You can do it! Kill it! Yeah!"

"You have to kill it. I'm not leaving work."

"But, what if it gets one of the girls before I can kill it?"

*Sigh* "It's not going to get one of the girls. If you're worried about the girls, send them upstairs, and put the gate up so they can't come down."

"Okay. But I really think you should come home and kill it. That's your job you know." What the heck kind of man did I marry? Where's my knight in shining armor?

"No. My job is here. You can do this. Just calm down. Now, just take a newspaper, and whack the spider." Heartless. That's what he is...Utterly and completely heartless.

"I can't. The spider will get guts all over my drapes. I need you to come home and get the spider down from the drapes and kill it."

"No. Here's what you're going to do. Get a plastic pitcher. Put it around the spider, then take a newspaper and whack the spider into the pitcher. Then, the spider will be in the pitcher."

"But, what if the spider jumps out? Then it will bite me, and I will die, and the girls will not have a mother to raise them, and it will be all your fault because I need you to come home. And kill this spider. NOW."

"I'm not coming home. Once you knock the spider into the pitcher, carry it to the door, shaking the pitcher the entire way so the spider will be unable to jump out." I can tell his resolve his very firm. He is not going to come home and save me...His fair damsel in distress.

"Okay. I can do this." *sniffle* "If I must..."

I did as he instructed. He was still on the phone with me. At this point everyone in his office had joined into listening to his end of the conversation, shocked, I'm sure, at his utter lack of compassion for me, and his refusal to do his duty as my husband and come rescue me from the giant killer spider.

I took the pitcher. I squealed as I put it around the spider. I took a newspaper and whacked the spider. Nothing happened. The spider is now trapped in my pitcher, still clinging to the sheer with it's sticky feet (duh) and it is now angry....Plotting it's vengeance on me...I began to weep. The girls were still upstairs, cheering and clapping for me. "You can do it Mommy! Yeah, Mommy! Kill the spider!"

"It's still on the drape! It didn't move, and now it's angry, and it is going to kill me! Come home! Save me!!!"

"Honey. Calm down. Take the pitcher and scrape it down the drape, knocking the spider loose, into your pitcher. Then, you will take the pitcher, with the spider in it, and run to the door, shaking the pitcher so the spider will be unable to jump out and eat you." I sensed a certain amount of exasperation and patronization in his tone.....

Okay. I'm starting to get the idea that he thinks I'm being a tad ridiculous. Does he not realize the monstrous creature that has invaded our home, my sanctuary, and is threatening the very safety of my children and me?

I beg him to come home and help. He is firm. I must deal with this myself. Giving up on him having even small shred of decency, I did as he instructed. Only, to my utter horror, I neglected to hold the drape taut as I scraped the pitcher down, and the spider fell to the floor. I screamed a blood curdling scream, jumped approximately 3 feet in the air, and dropped the pitcher.

Now, Gentle Reader, here is where the hand of God came into play. The pitcher fell down on top of the spider, trapping the spider under it. I was safe! The spider was trapped! I was not going to die a horrible painful death by spider bite! I began to cheer with relief and joy. The girls started jumping up and down, clapping their hands for their mommy.

"I got it! I trapped the spider under the pitcher on the floor! I'm leaving it there until you get home tonight."

"What?! No you are not. You will kill the spider. You can do this."

"No. I can't. Please come home. Please. Please....."

Well, I eventually gave in. I got a shoe, the biggest shoe I could find, and began my attack. Studmuffin remained on the phone. I picked up the pitcher and let out a blood curdling scream as I brought the shoe down on the spider.

"Did you kill it?"

"I don't know...."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I'm afraid to lift the shoe."

"Oh good grief. Pick up the shoe, clean up the spider, and get hold of yourself."

I ground the shoe into the floor with all my might. There was very little evidence that the giant spider ever existed other than the tiny bits of spider legs and exoskeleton by the time I was finished with that thing.

And my blood curdling scream? Well, I finally realized why the Indians let out war whoops as they went into battle. It was out of sheer terror, and determination that they would be victorious over their enemies....Their enemy was white man, mine was the killer spider. Yep, I am way more understanding of the Native American experience after my conflict with the spider.......

My children cheered and cheered for me. I was the hero of the day. I killed the monstrous spider. All by myself. No thanks to Studmuffin.

Now. Aren't you glad that I'm completely dry on blog topics, so you can have nightmares about finding THAT spider in your house tonight?

You're welcome!

Oh, and if you want to learn all about trap door spiders, just click here. Hey, aren't you glad I'm such a fount of information?!

Glimpses of Terror and I hate my hair...

I got my hair done the day we left for New Braunfels. I didn't have her take hardly any length off because my hair had been laying really well. Remember, I like to put no effort into my hair. The problem is, ever since she touched up my color, my hair won't do anything I want. Saturday I threw a fit and blew it dry and straightened it, then I used a curling iron to attempt a Farrah Fawcett feathered look. I liked it okay, but it was a bit too much work.

So, this morning I took my shower, did my morning routine, and then blew it dry. It was, of course, frizzy. Think Gilda Radner. Yikes. So, since the curling iron took so much time, I decided to try hot rollers. Yes. I still own hot rollers....


Oops. Okay, and when the heck did I develop those wrinkles on my neck when I turn my head?

I think I achieved the beauty pageant look instead of the loose curls I was going for. And I have to ask myself: Why the heck does a curly haired girl blow her curls out, just to curl them again. Crud. However, I had to leave to take the girls to school, then head to the church. No time to undo the damage. The scary thing is, not one person commented on the big hair and curls. Does that mean it's so scary, they don't dare mention it, aka "if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all?" Oh well, I'm getting ready to do a sweaty workout, so hopefully that will deflate some body...

After I finished at the church I went to get my oil changed. I go to one of those places where they direct you into place, and one guy is underneath while another is at your hood and they call out info to each other like healthcare people do in surgery or codes. Instead of "Hemostat! Scalpel! Epinephrine! Clear!" they are yelling out car stuff. It seriously cracks me up. Today I got a bigger laugh than usual there. The guys are always moving very quickly, and they are always super friendly and laugh and joke together. One guy was running into the office to run the lady next to me's card. His shirt got caught on the doorknob and he was hurrying so fast he didn't notice. That is, he didn't notice until he had ripped every single button off of his shirt. Everyone started laughing, and things slowed down for quite a few minutes because the guys would start working, then one would begin chuckling and it would have a trickle down effect of general hilarity, tears running down faces and stomach clutching. It was priceless.

I came home from getting my oil changed determined to get busy with my housework and finish up the scrapbooking that I started Saturday. I was over a year behind. I got 11 pages done, and have since stuttered to a stop. We've been eating in the living room because I'm determined to get caught up before I pack it all up. My goal is Friday.



Anyway, I returned home, turned on FIT TV to see what workout was coming up, walked back into the dining room and saw this:



After I jumped up and down, made my little shrieking noises and flapped my hands like a birdie, I calmed down and realized that it was not a tarantula, but a giant wolf spider. Thank goodness it wasn't covered in babies, or I don't know if I could have recovered as well as I did. I took a picture of it to share with you.

However, after taking it, I wasn't sure you could appreciate the size. I place my size 11 flip flop next to it so you could truly appreciate the size. Studmuffin said I should have placed a dollar bill by it. Dang it. He always has better ideas.



But, by the time I talked to him, I had scooped it into a shoe box and carried it out to the front yard. See? I've made some serious progress since the spiders of my youth and the bird eating spider we found in our living room!

Hale the Conquering Hero: continued

Caution: If you did not read my previous post, you may want to do so now, in order to have a clear picture. Click here, to read it.

Fast forward 8 years. I am now the mother of a 23 month old and a 2 1/2 year old. The month is November. How can I remember the time so clearly? Well, you see, I know we had recently celebrated Halloween, because my children were in love with all things scary.

"Spider, Mommy! Spider!" They sing-song in their high pitched little girl voices. I was in the kitchen.

"Yep! Spiders! We love spiders! What kind of spider do you have?" You understand, of course, I was merely humoring the little tykes while I did my very important mommy things...

"NO Mommy! A real big spider! On the window!" Again, this announcement is said gleefully.

"Just a minute! I'm busy. I'll come see you're 'real' spider in a minute!" I chuckled and shook my head...Oh those kids and their imaginations....

I finished my task, walked in my living room, and to my horror, on the front bay window is the biggest, scariest spider I've ever seen in my life! Picture a spider as big as a tarantula, but it's NOT a tarantula. It's black. And it's not hairy, like you'd think. Nope, it's smooth, like a black widow, but again it's entirely too humongous to be a black widow. And it's in my house. On my window. In my living room. Actually, on the window isn't exactly right. It was on my sheers on the window side. I was in a panic. There was a giant, killer spider in my house. What was I going to do? I had to protect my children. Their safety was in my hands. I did what any sane, responsible mother of 2 small defenseless children would do.

I called their father.

"Studmuffin? I need you to come home. Now. There's an emergency."

"What's the matter?" His voice echoes concern. I know he's coming to save me. I can feel the relief begin to flow through my veins.

"There is s giant spider in the house. I need you to come home, right now, and kill it!"

"You want me to come home. To kill a spider."

"Yes to kill a spider! It's a giant spider! I told you, it's an emergency! Come. Home. Now." My voice raised a few decibels by this point.

"Babe, I'm not leaving work to kill a spider. You have to take care of it."

"B-b-b-but, it's a big spider. It's scary. I can't kill it. I need you to come home. Now." The girls are now dancing around and singing "Kill the spider Mommy! You can do it! Kill it! Yeah!"

"You have to kill it. I'm not leaving work."

"But, what if it gets one of the girls before I can kill it?"

*Sigh* "It's not going to get one of the girls. If you're worried about the girls, send them upstairs, and put the gate up so they can't come down."

"Okay. But I really think you should come home and kill it. That's your job you know." What the heck kind of man did I marry? Where's my knight in shining armor?

"No. My job is here. You can do this. Just calm down. Now, just take a newspaper, and whack the spider." Heartless. That's what he is...Utterly and completely heartless.

"I can't. The spider will get guts all over my drapes. I need you to come home and get the spider down from the drapes and kill it."

"No. Here's what you're going to do. Get a plastic pitcher. Put it around the spider, then take a newspaper and whack the spider into the pitcher. Then, the spider will be in the pitcher."

"But, what if the spider jumps out? Then it will bite me, and I will die, and the girls will not have a mother to raise them, and it will be all your fault because I need you to come home. And kill this spider. NOW."

"I'm not coming home. Once you knock the spider into the pitcher, carry it to the door, shaking the pitcher the entire way so the spider will be unable to jump out." I can tell his resolve his very firm. He is not going to come home and save me...His fair damsel in distress.

"Okay. I can do this." *sniffle* "If I must..."

I did as he instructed. He was still on the phone with me. At this point everyone in his office had joined into listening to his end of the conversation, shocked, I'm sure, at his utter lack of compassion for me, and his refusal to do his duty as my husband and come rescue me from the giant killer spider.

I took the pitcher. I squealed as I put it around the spider. I took a newspaper and whacked the spider. Nothing happened. The spider is now trapped in my pitcher, still clinging to the sheer with it's sticky feet (duh) and it is now angry....Plotting it's vengeance on me...I began to weep. The girls were still upstairs, cheering and clapping for me. "You can do it Mommy! Yeah, Mommy! Kill the spider!"

"It's still on the drape! It didn't move, and now it's angry, and it is going to kill me! Come home! Save me!!!"

"Honey. Calm down. Take the pitcher and scrape it down the drape, knocking the spider loose, into your pitcher. Then, you will take the pitcher, with the spider in it, and run to the door, shaking the pitcher so the spider will be unable to jump out and eat you." I sensed a certain amount of exasperation and patronization in his tone.....

Okay. I'm starting to get the idea that he thinks I'm being a tad ridiculous. Does he not realize the monstrous creature that has invaded our home, my sanctuary, and is threatening the very safety of my children and me?

I beg him to come home and help. He is firm. I must deal with this myself. Giving up on him having even small shred of decency, I did as he instructed. Only, to my utter horror, I neglected to hold the drape taut as I scraped the pitcher down, and the spider fell to the floor. I screamed a blood curdling scream, jumped approximately 3 feet in the air, and dropped the pitcher.

Now, Gentle Reader, here is where the hand of God came into play. The pitcher fell down on top of the spider, trapping the spider under it. I was safe! The spider was trapped! I was not going to die a horrible painful death by spider bite! I began to cheer with relief and joy. The girls started jumping up and down, clapping their hands for their mommy.

"I got it! I trapped the spider under the pitcher on the floor! I'm leaving it there until you get home tonight."

"What?! No you are not. You will kill the spider. You can do this."

"No. I can't. Please come home. Please. Please....."

Well, I eventually gave in. I got a shoe, the biggest shoe I could find, and began my attack. Studmuffin remained on the phone. I picked up the pitcher and let out a blood curdling scream as I brought the shoe down on the spider.

"Did you kill it?"

"I don't know...."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I'm afraid to lift the shoe."

"Oh good grief. Pick up the shoe, clean up the spider, and get hold of yourself."

I ground the shoe into the floor with all my might. There was very little evidence that the giant spider ever existed other than the tiny bits of spider legs and exoskeleton by the time I was finished with that thing.

And my blood curdling scream? Well, I finally realized why the Indians let out war whoops as they went into battle. It was out of sheer terror, and determination that they would be victorious over their enemies....Their's was white man, mine was the killer spider. Yep, I am way more understanding of the Native American experience after my conflict with the spider.......

My children cheered and cheered for me. I was the hero of the day. I killed the monstrous spider. All by myself. No thanks to Studmuffin.

Hale the Conquering Hero!

I know you perceive me as a brave, no fear sort of gal, don't you? Don't you? Right? No doubt about it, I'm one fearless gal, right? Right? Hellooooo?.....Oookaay....I'll take your silence as a nod of agreement, not of disbelief in my delusions.....

Well, based on your previous understanding of my stalwart personality, I hope you won't too disappointed to learn that.....I used to be deathly afraid of spiders.

I blame my parents, really....After all, everything that is remotely wrong with me falls firmly on the doorstep of my parents. That's the way life is, right? I know that as the mother, any screw up I make is sure to scar my children for life. That is why I have striven for perfection in motherhood as I have with all things such as housekeeping, finances, cooking, exercise, time in the Word....Oh wait! That's not me! That's my fantasy alter ego! Never mind! Back to reality...

My reality is a cluttered house, finances far from Dave Ramsey's system, and cooking that is on again off again. And exercise...though I love it....well, I seem to be placing it on the back burner lately, and the bathroom scale is screaming at me to get off my duff (I think the family hearing impairment is blocking that voice fairly well). My time with God is as sketchy as everything else in my life seems to be. And my parenting? Forget about it...Please, Lord, don't let my children be scarred for every stupid mistake I make, or they will be in therapy for years!

So, after that long ramble totally off the subject, we will return to my fear of spiders, which truly is my parents fault.....You don't believe me? Well, just listen to this!

We had a major wolf spider infestation when I was in high school. The were predominantly in my bedroom. I would beg my parents to hire an exterminator, to bomb the house...anything, but they did not hear my pleas. Even when they came from my bedroom with me standing on my bed shrieking because a giant spider, the size of a mouse just ran across my floor....They would simply roll their eyes, kill the spider and go on about their life. They blamed me for my spider infestation...They said if I would clean all of the junk out of my closets and under my bed, the spiders wouldn't have a place to nest, and would move on....I did these things, and the infestation remained..........

Studmuffin and I were dating at this time. We were sitting on the floor watching TV in the living room, when a giant, fuzzy looking wolf spider started across the floor... My hero sprang into action.

But what is this?

Oh no!

YIKES!!!

His weapon of choice was the wrong weapon! He was about to pound it with a shoe!

"NOOOOOOO!!!!" I screamed as the shoe came crashing down on the spider, and the atrocity happened...

Hundreds...no thousands, possibly MILLIONS of baby spiders went flying across the living room floor in all directions as they sought safety from the shoe of death!

You see, dear reader, wolf spiders actually carry their young on their bellies for awhile after being born. So, you must always snatch the entire creature up with a tissue (more like 20, just in case they can, by some miracle, bite through the tissue...better safe than sorry) then run shuddering and whimpering to the toilet where you will quickly through it in and flush the toilet no less than 3 times to assure that the horrible harbinger of fright will not find it's way back out of the toilet and back into your home. Then, you will collapse on the side of the tub where you will rock yourself back and forth, singing lullabies to yourself, and sobbing. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, in through the nose, out the mouth....At last calm will be achieved, and you will be able to return to your day.

It was a very long time before Studmuffin ever sat on the floor in my parents house again....

Oh! And my parents, of course, sprayed for spiders after Studmuffin shared his tale of horror to them. Apparently, he is a completely reliable source of wisdom, whereas I was a source of drama and over reaction.....*Hmpf*

Well, my spider phobia remained for years following this experience of terror....but this post is already entirely too long, so I will finish my tale tomorrow! Be sure and tune in! It is a tale of terror, a tale of bravery, and well, of course, a tale that shows me to be the complete drama queen and over reactor that my parents claimed I was.....