For those of you new to the site, you might not have seen these from the fall of 2014. Since they’re both short, I’ll include two little self-reflective gems. They’re slightly revised–for the better I believe.
Where to Find Sorts When You Are Out of Them from October 1, 2014
We are all mad here, said the Cheshire Cat. I am not mad, but my wife thinks–and often points out, that there is a strangeness about me. I do not protest, but rejoice in her assessment. At times, like most people, she can be out of sorts. I offer to get some at the store when I go out, if only she would tell me in what aisle to find them.
She is my muse of course, offering up gems that I freely use in my writing. Here’s such a one:
“Without my knowledge, someone has signed me up for the falling apart club.”
Ah, the accompaniments of aging.
I Am the Spider Whisperer from September 3, 2014
My wife calls me the spider whisperer. I talk to them as I escort them out the door, releasing them with care to avoid breaking a fragile leg. Some escape briefly from the tissue to run along my hand or arm enroute to the door. But I capture them again. I don’t suppose that they understand my words, “there you go, have a nice day.” Perhaps they sense my harmless intent but who can be sure of a spider’s mind? Some seem more frightened than others, some play dead and some hop or scurry quickly.
The one most afraid—or at least most difficult to catch as it fled up, down and all along walls and ceilings, was a huge wolf spider. It invaded the double-wide we were renting while our dream house was under construction. Not quite as large as a tarantula, it still surpassed any other I had seen up close. Just a little hairy and a light tan color, it seemed a handsome predator—although certainly not one the wife wanted indoors. I never really got a hand on the 8-legged intruder, tissue covered or otherwise. Juanita just opened the door for me so I could steer it outside. It hung around for a few hours—perhaps in shock at its escape from what might have been death. Then it moved on, never to be seen again.