Friday, August 15, 2008

Survival of the Sweetest

Here is a picture of a disgustingly huge spider that built its web across the outside of my kitchen sliding glass doors last night. This morning, in a state of grogginess which typically causes me to pour orange juice in my cereal and return the milk to the cupboard, I forget about this horrific creature and attempt to put out the garbage by way of that entrance, walking right into the abandoned web. Hell Hound looks on, head tilted in a state of canine curiosity. Luckily, the spider has disappeared, probably having overheard my plans to destroy it with hair spray. Nevertheless, my screaming jig is inevitable, which I'm sure wakes all the neighbors, the live ones, anyway.

The dead ones are already up, I'm sure, since their landscapers were running weed wackers at 6 a.m. in the cemetery next door. "The dead neighbors are sooooo rude!" I complain to my husband at breakfast after having taken two showers. "Don't they care that I also like to rest in peace at 6 a.m. on Saturday?" Milk Man shrugs and crunches, sips his coffee, and rattles the newspaper. He's engulfed in the latest national crisis. Chris Russo is leaving the radio show, Mike and the Mad Dog on WFAN. I pull the paper down and lean into his face, asking "Will radio ever be the same?" He does not think my sarcasm is funny. "No, it probably won't," he mumbles, putting his coffee mug down and abruptly exiting the kitchen. I'm emptying the dishwasher and laughing. "Are you seriously upset about this?" No answer. "Wow, SO sensitive," I think aloud. "This is a dog-eat-dog kind of world, Milk Man, I guess Mad Dog had to move on." No answer.

Milk Man can be very sensitive at times, and so can I. This quality is definitely evident in the gene pool of our children, which troubles me as we approach their first days of school. They are very nice little people, and some kids can be cruel and aggressive. This is a fear that every mother must let go of, I suppose, as it is beyond the realm of control.

The princess enters the kitchen in her plastic shoes. "AHHHHH! I see the icky spider in the glass. Maybe smash it, Mama." Her older brother protests. "NOOO! Its brothers will be sad if you kill it. Mommy, just move it with my bug box."

Did I mention big brother LOVES bugs? He turns to the princess. "Just because something is ugly doesn't mean you should smash it." She thinks for a moment, then reluctantly agrees. After all, big brother knows everything.

My husband is standing in the doorway, smirking at me as I face my fears and relocate the giant spider in big brother's bug box. I think I'm breaking out into a sweat as we parade to the back of the yard with the creature, so it can safely find its "brothers," and avoid the jaws of Hell Hound.

I bet spiders teach their children the meaning of the phrase "Survival of the Fittest," but this bugger just got lucky today. It tacked itself to the door of two wonderfully sensitive children. I'll save one million ugly bugs if it means my kids stay this sweet forever.

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Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

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