Itsy Bitsy?

I am not afraid of spiders. I just don't want them near me. They just give me a general skin crawling type of willies. I am ashamed to admit it, but I am a spider killer. Growing up, I remember my Dad going on "bug hunts" before bed. He would comb the perimeter of my bedroom where the wall meets the ceiling and take care of any creepy crawlers that would surely come eat me during my slumber.

When I became a preschool teacher, I had to change my killing ways as we taught "non-violence" in my classroom. When bugs (spiders unfortunately included) were found in the classroom, we told the kids that they must be lost and we need to gently take them back outside so they could find their homes again. So, I would scoop the little thing up in a cup and shake it out as far away from my body as my arm could possibly reach. Gross.

Well, my home is no classroom and the spiders should know better as far as I am concerned. Grant is now my protector when it comes to slaying spiders. Usually I exaggerate the size. I will come running down the hall from the bathroom to our bedroom and say, "Honey, there is a HUGE spider in the bathroom!" He will look at me with disbelief and say, "Are you sure it is 'HUGE?'" It is rarely any bigger than a dime.

Yesterday was the exception to the rule. This spider was, in fact, HUGE. I swear to you, as the self-admitting queen of exaggeration, I am not joking when I say this spider had the wing-span of a silver dollar. And its spider ass was the size of a large garbanzo bean. Not to mention its web was starting to block our front door. Something needed to be done.

"Honey, I swear to God, you need to kill that thing."

"No, we can't kill it."

"Why not? If we don't that thing is going to find a way into my bed."

"Honey, I feel bad. I mean, I don't know why I feel less bad killing tiny spiders that I find in the house and I can't kill this giant one."

"Exactly, the ones in the house might be babies...you could be killing a baby. Now just go do it!"

"Well, I mean, I feel like based on the size of that one, it is more advanced...like it has the ability to use tools."

(pause)

"Oh my God, it is on me...I swear I feel it on me"

"Ok, ok...I will kill it."

"Are you scared?"

"No."

"What are you going to do if it jumps at you?"

"I will effing freak out."

I wanna rock!!!

On Saturday, Grant and I went to Ameoba Records in San Francisco and saw John Vanderslice do an quaint in-store performance promoting his new album. It started at 2:00 pm and after it was over (around 3:30) Grant said, "I kinda wish all concerts were this early."

Agreed.

It was lovely, after the show we got to enjoy an early supper together and made it home just in time to catch all our programs.

At the show, a few isles in in front of us was a couple that looked about our age and with them, specifically on his dad's shoulders, was their little boy. He was probably about two and a half to threeish. I am sure mom (or dad) saw that there was going to be a concert by one of their favorite musicans, in a music store with no age limitations, cover charge or need for a sitter and they said, "Screw his nap time. We are going to this!"

The little guy did pretty well, actually. When John Vanderslice first came out on stage he was waving at him frantically. And after each song he turned to his mom with a big semi-toothy grin and clapped proudly. Despite how well he was doing, he was bound to get tired. His mom gave him his blanket and a binky and he closed his eyes and laid his head on his dad's shoulder.

This made me think of the time that Grant and I went to see Superdrag at Bottom of the Hill in the city. We had a nice dinner and being that I was freshly 21 years old, I decided to order a glass of wine, house red I am sure. Not realizing the effects that cheap red wine can have I proceeded to get very, very sleepy. You would think it would be impossible to fall asleep during a rock concert. You would be wrong. I started to fall asleep...while standing. Since I knew this was never going to work, I scoped out a stool, placed it behind Grant and leaned my head against his back and fell asleep.

So, it can be done. And this little boy also "pulled a Heather" right in the middle of a rock show. After he fell asleep I thought to myself, toddler, enjoying a rock star, not causing a ruckus, falls asleep without disturbing his father's listening enjoyment...this is everything Grant could ever want in a child.

Oh...you were talking to me?

The other day I think I was hit on. I say "think" because I think that most of times I am hit on (like men just flock to me or something...hilarious) I am oblivious to what is going on. Basically I have been married, well for about 12 years. Ok, so officially almost two, but Grant and I have been together for as long as I can remember. I think even that brief period we were not together, we both knew we would find each other again. Therefore, I always feel like I am walking around with a giant neon sign flashing over my head that says "TAKEN! TAKEN!"

So if and when it does happen, I am either completely unaware of what is taking place, obviously trying to ignore the advances, or laughing nervously. The other day, I was demonstrating "completely unaware."

I was waiting to cross the street and there was a line of cars stopped at the red light to my left. I thought I saw someone motion to me from a car. I looked and saw nothing. The motioning occurred again. So I looked once again at a gentleman a black convertible, waving to me...with his fingers. Um, creepy. I did not know the gentleman so I thought he must be waving to someone behind me...so I looked. Of course there was no one there and now I feel like a complete idiot. So, I fixed my eyes on the stop light in front of me and refused to peel my gaze away. I mean, I can't look again! I married for God sake! Do you not see my giant neon sign, sir! Meanwhile, the man began to rev his engine to, I don't know, scare me or something. As he peeled out in a last ditch effort to make me all hot and bothered for him, bothered being the operative word, I thought to myself, thank God I never had to play the dating game. As evidence from above, I would have surely lost.