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Hello again,

Phobias are nothing new to people. Most phobias evolved out of natural instincts designed to keep ourselves safe and multiplying. I personally am not afraid of snakes, bats, rodents, heights, enclosed spaces, the number 13, water, or nuns. However, spiders and I have a complete scare-terrify relationship. How does one know if their fear is a full blown phobia? Well I am pretty sure the way I feel about the eight legged creepy crawlies is absolutely neurotic bordering on psychotic. A pretty typical run down of me seeing a spider plays out something like this:

See spider
Hyperventilate-become dizzy
Notice how very, very fully my bladder is
Shake like a Pentecostal on uppers
Squeal
Run away

You may be asking yourself, why doesn't she just squash the spider and be done with it? Oh, so many reasons. Some of them are more irrational (crazy) than others, but we're not here to judge. First, no matter the size of the spider I am convinced that there will be an audible "crunch" of the menacing beast underneath or between whatever I would use to kill it. I cannot mentally handle even the idea of such a thing. Not between my fingers with a kleenex, under my shoe, underneath a rolled up paper, etc. Perhaps it would work if I had a bowling ball to drop on it. Now that might work, I'm sure a 10 pound bowling ball falling at 9.8 meters per second squared would definitely kill the critter without the nastiness of the crunch. However, I am fairly positive that it would take surprisingly few shattered dining room tiles for the space captain to grow weary of that particular pest control method. Besides, my hands are usually full of baby, sippy cups, ninja turtles, or a phone and a coffee to also be able to lug that damn ball around. Then what happens when I see one out and about? Would Target mind if I started dropping a bowling ball in random locations in their store? Could I get through airport security with it as my personal item? And dropping this silly ball does nothing against the giant spiders that hang out beneath the trees in my new locale. What, so now I have to come up with another tool to get it down and then drop the ball on it? I'm a busy woman.

There are other reasons for not flattening spiders. Perhaps the craziest one I can give you is this. I am afraid of retaliation.

Think about it, you crush a spider and throw it outside to "return it to nature". However, what if the thing is not completely dead, merely maimed or mortally wounded? This is where it gets interesting folks. Movies like Toy Story have really messed me up. In fact, I have not viewed the second and third installments in the series because I firmly believe my psyche could not take it. I make a habit out of watching scary movies, and have seen every single new horror flic in theatres opening weekend for the last 12 years without fail. Nothing has changed my life in paranoid fashion like Toy Story. There are two sock monkeys on my dresser, and I wonder what they say about me when I'm gone. Maybe they think those jeans are too tight or my new lipstick makes me look like I should be hanging out on the corner of Hennepin and Lake. Either way I wonder. I arrange our shoes because it occurs to me that they might be sad to be left upside down and away from their mate. The boys have a drawer for their action figures and I wonder if they're afraid of the dark when the lights go out. Is that McDonald's toy in agony after having a leg chewed off by our dog Kona?

Getting back to how Toy Story has forever changed my relationship with spiders. I worry that if I kill or injure a spider it will somehow pass the message on to it's spider brethren and leave me with a full blown revenge insurrection on my hands. I am completely not joking here people, this is what goes through my mind. In light of this I have little choice with what to do in the event I see a spider. They hold ALL the cards and I am paralyzed until I feel safe enough to walk away very slowly leaving the arachnid to carry on about its business. Sometimes I get crazy brave and will do the cup and paper trick. Put a cup over the spider, slide a piece of paper under the cup, and throw the whole mess outside. The spider lives another day, and there is no hit out on me from their webby kingdom.

Which brings me to story time.

On our first day in our new place on the surface of the sun we arrived at our house around 10am. Of course it was already well over 90 degrees, but what else was new? Matt put our new key in the lock and opened the front door to let our brood feast their eyes on their new digs. Upon entering our house you can see down the hallway right out the back door that leads to the fenced in portion of our two acres and the swimming pool. Matt and the boys were off like a shot back outside to see their very own yard. Not me. I immediately noticed how extremely hot it was in the house, needlessly hot for sure. Why wasn't the air conditioning on? The previous owners had only moved out two days before and knew we were right behind them, so why turn off the air? Huh. I flipped the nearest light switch and...nothing. Taking the course that we all do, I stood there and flipped that same switch on and off about 10 times before repeating the same act on the two other switches next to it. Obviously, there was no power. Not willing to let that sink in I walked into the kitched and opened the refrigerator hoping for a friendly cold blast. Nada. There was no freaking power in this furnace! Whatever. Thinking it was most likely a fuse box thingy that the captain could fix I went to join my men outdoors. Not so fast!

I turned the knob and went to take my first step into the backyard only to have Matt run at the door and thrust his arm across the jamb preventing my exit. With a wild, panicked look in his mocha brown eyes he spits out

"You should just stay inside. Yes, stay inside. You should just never, ever come outside here, ever."

Of course I assumed there was something of the insect variety near the door. I inquired

"Oh, is there a bug?" He nodded yes. I continued

"Is it a big one?" Again a nod of assurance.

"Is it a cockroach?" I had accepted they were to be a new part of our lives here.

"Uh, no. Think furrier, and with more legs" came his response.

"It's a spider?" My voice rose "Is it a fucking tarantula?!?!" Again, a nod.

Without a thought I slammed the door shut and threw the deadbolt. Yes my husband and all of my children were on the side of the door WITH the tarantula. But this was Chernobyl. This was the sum of all fears and they were already goners. There was nothing I could do for them anymore but pray from behind the locked door. Why did I lock the door? Well how else was I going to protect myself from the spider which assuredly was going to do whatever it took to break into my house and do whatever Jurassic spiders do? Please, like I was going to take that chance.

Matt realized my level of panic, and the fact that he was now locked out of the house, and realized the need to bring me back to earth. He informed me that the spider was already dead. Naturally I questioned the validity of the statement. For all I knew he was in on it with the spider and this was part of their elaborate plan to gain access to our new residence. He assured me, and I witnessed him politely nudge the deceased spider with his shoe. It was enough for me, and I finally opened the door, cautiously, to see it for myself. There is was in all its glory directly outside the door. Yes it was dead, and yes I felt more than a little faint for a while.

The only question now was what to do with the body.

After finding the perfect housing unit at Michaels I can now say that our spider, whom I named Gorgeous George, resides atop our kitchen cabinets. We bring him down to show every new person who crosses the threshold whether they like it or not. I could apologize to my dad, but it would be insincere at best. My mother tells me he was not as big as she thought, but she was never faced with the very real threat of it taking over her house and devouring her trapped family.

My 5 year old son Wesley and I have made an arrangement. He cannot deal with crickets or beetles, and I obviously cannot handle spiders. Whatever we see, we call the best person for the job. He's a master with the kleenex and the shoe, and has my undying respect for his bravery under extreme duress. I will stick to turning tail and evacuating the area or walking by trees while frantically waving my hands in front of me to prevent an arachnid to the face.