photo by JMH
Spiders-I have issues with spiders. The photo above was taken in the mountains with an Instamatic years ago. I have no issues with him--he was cool. He's blurry because I kept my distance! I do love his black and white legs.
The spiders I have issues with are the ones in my house. Like the one who crawled into my laptop recently to keep warm and left a pile of questionable material on my keyboard. I preferred to think they were eggs, but I wasn't sure. Then there was the spider that bit me in the middle of the night. I think he was a Shakespeare lover because he definitely took a pound of flesh. No kidding, the bite swelled to the size of a slice of bacon. This event happened on June 11th, and I still have a lump the size of a marble under my skin.
Even though I never saw him, I got on the net to see just what kind of spiders we have here in Washington State. Answer: too many! Now, I was supposed to be writing but I indulged myself because I thought it could be a matter of life and death, and I'd always planned to have a classier exit from this planet...like maybe being run over by a truck carrying my new best-selling novel to our local Borders. (now that's a run-on sentence to take to show and tell).
As it turns out, all of the experts (they have a fancy name, but we won't go there) who write sites about spiders are nuts. One actually said that capturing the spider and releasing it outdoors may not be the best thing for the spider. Oh. He might prefer a flushing toilet? The bottom of my shoe? Just what was I supposed to do with this spider if I ever caught him, offer him a nice warm pocket in one of my winter coats? What?
What's next?- Speaking of novels, readers are wondering what's next? Well, Custer was my last novel set in the Southwest. I'm now working on a story set in the Northwest, where I live now. It's funny. It's sexy. And I have no idea how I'm going to break it to my husband that I've gone over to the smooch side. I predict he'll be appalled. I'll try to explain to him that my characters stopped following my outline and went on their own Yellow Brick Road to a place called, Get Real, Lady. It's time for me to grow up. My readers have.
I'm out of time. No time to edit. Feel free to make up your own quote and email it to me! (firstname.lastname@example.org).