Monthly Archives: August 2012

Miss Spider where have you gone

When I was about eight or nine I was bitten by a spider. The only part I remember was waking up in a hospital bed with wires attached to me, my mom sitting next to me in a chair.

I look over and her eyes catches mine. “What happened?” I ask, my voice cracks as my throat is dry.

“The doctor says you were bit by a spider,” she replies with a tired look.

I don’t remember anything else of that day, nor what type of spider it was, but I do know that it had given me a fear of them. As the years had progressed I have curiously read about spiders and have come to respect them. Well, mostly. A spider indoors becomes a dead one, but a spider outside is well left alone.

A few weeks ago I’ve noticed a web building spider, the size of a nickel, right outside the door as I gone to get the morning paper. I curiously stopped to look at her. The size of her web was ghastly in size, reaching from the porch, to our wheelchair ramp; so about three and a half feet in diameter. It glistened in the sunlight as the breeze moved it ever so gently. She was sitting in the center of the web, her legs pulled tightly into her, as if she’s sleeping. She isn’t a widow or a spider I could identify right away. I was mesmerized though.

I would greet her every morning as I passed by her, as if we were old friends, even though it’s a one way conversation. When I returned from class she would be gone, along with her beautiful web. The other day I happened to catch her as she was moving to her hiding spot. She wasn’t the size of a nickel as I thought, but bigger than the size of a quarter.

Yesterday, I went outside to get the morning paper and I noticed Miss Spider wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I looked all around the porch area for her, curious where she might have gone. This morning, again, she wasn’t there. I asked my grandmother if she had seen the big spider outside or if she killed it. She laughed at me and said no. She knows I have a fear of spiders, hence the reason why she laughed at me.

The only reason why I don’t kill spiders while they’re outside is that they have a part in the cycle of life. They kill bugs, especially mosquitos. Mosquitos carry diseases. And Miss Spider had set her web in a perfect spot, right near our door to our house. So I welcome her to catch every little bug that comes this way. Hopefully she’s still around.


A cold is coming

I knew my daughter would catch a cold from daycare, but when. After three days I go to pick her up and her nose is running and she feels warm. I didn’t know she would get sick so soon. After three days of taking care of her, I begin to feel symptoms of a head cold coming. I’m already drinking tea, but start taking air borne, a effervescent vitamin packed with all the necessary things to boost my immune system. I feel it may be too late though. I’m already sneezing like crazy and had to open a brand new box of tissues. On the positive side, it’s the weekend. On the not so positive side, I may have some homework starting tomorrow.

Oh shiny!

Yesterday was my Mother’s birthday. I had taken her and my dad to dig for diamonds at the Crater of Diamonds National Park in Murfreesboro, Arkansas. It’s the 8th largest diamond mine in the world. It is also the only place in the world where the public can hunt for diamonds and keep what they find.

The weather wasn’t too hot but imagine being out in a treeless field, digging in the dirt, the sun bearing down on you. It tends to get hot real quick. No matter, I thought, this was the first time for me to do this and I was going to find me a nice shiny rock. Well, there were a lot of shiny rocks. In fact the dirt even sparkled. Rocks had specks of sparkles.

I hadn’t a clue what to look for. Of course I knew what a diamond looked like, though only in a store window case, after it’s been cleaned and cut and polished. I was digging for the uncut, dirty ones.

I’d hold up a shiny rock and say to dad, “look at this, is this one?”

“No, it crumbles.”

“Darn it!” Hand him another one, “what about this one?”

“No, I don’t think that’s one, but it’s pretty.”

He and I filled up two buckets of dirt and rented a screen. We walked to the screening area and began screening the rocks and dirt for hopeful, potential diamonds. We picked out clear pieces of white rocks, what we thought were diamonds. We continued to screen and screen until our buckets of dirt were empty.

After two hours we packed up our things and walked up front to show our findings to an ‘expert’. Our clear ‘diamond hopefuls’ were nothing but quartz crystals and one piece of glass. So all that trouble to find no diamonds. We found a lot of jasper and some other minerals I had forgotten what the names were already. I did have fun though. And I got the experience for diamond hunting.

Lil Miss first day of school

It’s my daughter’s first day of daycare. I put her down and tell the teachers what time I’ll be back to pick her up. I wave bye to my lil miss and say, “I’ll see you later sweetie.” She doesn’t cling to my leg like a drier sheet, screaming, “Mommy, please don’t go! I want to go with you! Please take me with you!” Instead, she simply runs off to play with the other children.

I’m amazed and happy at how easy this is, but yet, deep inside I’m crushed. I wish to at least comfort my little girl somewhat and say, “You’ll have fun at school, make friends, learn a lot of new things. I’ll be back later to pick you up, it’s only for a few hours.” I watch my little girl from afar, babbling away with two other little girls her age. I say bye to her teachers and leave.

The entire day I was curious what my lil miss was up to. How was her day was going. When I arrived to pick her up it was the moment I sought earlier. She ran up to me and clung to me like that drier sheet I was looking for earlier. She missed me and I missed her.

I’m not a true Southerner

I’m not a true Southerner. That’s right, I’m not. At least that’s what someone told. I was born here, in Arkansas but I grew up all over the states. Before I graduated high school, I had lived in five states and had been to twelve different schools. Since then, i added three more states to that list before returning back to Arkansas. I was a military brat, and then I joined the service myself. The US Navy took me all around. At times I wished that I had stayed in just for the travel, but I had to get out because it was just too political.

Why am I not a true Southerner? I hate cole slaw, potato salad, tuna salad, in fact anything followed by the word salad. I only watch the first few laps of NASCAR and the last laps. I honestly don’t understand other than left turn, left turn, left turn for how many laps? I do know what the flags mean and how fast the cars can go. But that’s it. I don’t know anything else about it. Once upon a time I knew a few of the drivers by their car numbers, but I haven’t watched it in years and can see that the cars, numbers, and drivers have changed.

Baseball on the other hand is something I know a little more about. When I was growing up, I was a die-hard Atlanta Braves fan, collecting every card, knowing who was playing that day, their jersey numbers, first, middle, and last name. I even knew their birthdays and stats, what position they played, and who was batting and when. My sister Jaci went as far as to know who they were married to and how many children they had and their names. We kept up with who was traded and to where, and who the newbies were. Now days, I’ll only glance at a game if there’s nothing else on.

Something else I don’t like, catfish. I’d rather have Salmon or maybe some Icelandic Cod. I don’t like to hunt, nor have I ever been. I fish now and then and have even been deep sea fishing.

Oh yeah, is camo really a color? My sister goes crazy for camo decorated everything. She’s more of a country girl than I am. I must’ve been in the city too long. She cannot pass by a Bass Pro shop without going inside.

I don’t use the word’s Ya’ll or Ain’t. I do have a bit of a southern accent, that’s from living here for a while. I imagine if I were to move away, possibly somewhere up North, it wouldn’t take me long before I have a Yankee accent.

I think the only thing I really love that come from this state is the Razorbacks. It didn’t matter where I was living; I always rooted for the HOGS! I love football and have come to know the sport a lot more. Now I start going crazy if I know my team is playing and I can’t watch the game.

I honestly don’t know what really makes you a true Southerner or a true Yankee, but home is where ever you plant your feet. I’ve lived in Arkansas most of my life and know a lot of it’s history. I can tell you what city to visit and what attractions they have that you might be interested in. Maybe I’m not a true southerner, but I am an Arkansan.

Gates please

I have a secret crush for the man whose Destination is Truth. Donning his trademark scarf, aviator glasses, and a ring he wears on a black cord necklace. He and his team travels the world in search for creatures of all kinds, myths and legends, the paranormal, and things that go bump in the night. Showing prestige, courage, and never an ounce of fear. He battles raging rivers, the desert, floods, sand dunes, snakes, spiders, dark caves, weather of all kinds, and dives to the bottom of the murky water. Absolutely a man of skill, showing he can even free climb or scale walls and cliffs; he can drive anything on wheels, including a panzer. He is like a modern day, iconic Indiana Jones. He is Josh Gates.

And now my crush isn’t so secret anymore 😉

It’s the last week

I haven’t been on here to post anything in the last few days, as it’s been a busy week. I’m getting myself ready to go back to school and getting my lil miss ready for daycare. I was happy to find out that I only had to buy two books, instead of the four I needed on the list. The other two books I already had at home as I had already taken the first classes (Elem Algebra and Spanish 1).

It’s good to see how the school helps it’s students save money. They put two courses in one book, knowing that we have to take those classes later. This way we don’t have to buy these books later on. Those of you in college or who have taken college classes know how expensive these books are. I prefer to buy the used ones, as they’re cheaper. My school even has the book rental method. They allow us to rent books for $50 a semester. I haven’t been able to do that just yet, as most of my books required me to write in them, as they are part workbook. I’ve gotten one book that I couldn’t sell because my class was the last to use it.

However, I am ready to start school. After this semester, I will have one more year left to get my Associates Degree. I’m planning on transferring to a University to finish the last few years to get my Bachelor’s in History.

For all of you going back to school, wishing you all the best of luck in your studies!

bread crumbs

I get so caught up in day to day life, that I sometimes forget what I have had for breakfast. I literally cannot remember what happened yesterday, though I know it happened. Being a single parent keeps you busy. Soon I’ll be even busier.

Looking at my notes that I left myself for each novel, I see that I had written detailed notes going up to chapter twelve. Though that isn’t that last chapter, it was all that I could think of at the time to scratch down. I have now come up with more ideas to add to these notes. I’m stoked that I leave myself with these ‘bread crumbs’.

Be done already

I guess I’m not quite happy with my novel as is…I simply can’t leave it alone. It’s as if it calls to me from another room and says, ‘you’re not really done with me yet.’ So I pick my manuscript up, look over the pages, and scratch sentences, words, or paragraphs over to the side, drawing arrows, pointing where I want them to go. Every day, I keep going back and adding more and more. I also edit as I go.

Don’t get me wrong, I like that I’m adding more, but how do you know when you’re official finished? I’ve completed my manuscript, or so I thought I did; twenty chapters, over 34K words. The storyline is complete; I just keep adding to the dialog, or more to the descriptions of here and there, or how the person said this or that. I’ve been told that sometimes it’s okay to have detail, and sometimes detail can be too much, and sometimes there’s just not enough detail.

With the English class that I took last semester, I know that my writing as progressed. Honestly if you’ve read my earlier work, you would notice a huge difference as well. Being a military brat is not easy. One thing a parent in the military does not realize is how moving affects a child’s education. I’ve been to twelve different schools before I graduated and was always behind. My mother thought it best to put me in special education classes, which didn’t help me out at all. In fact, it made matters worse. So, some of the college classes that I have taken have really helped me.

I dug out my notes for book two; yes there is a sequel to my novel. I was curious to see where it was going, as it had been a few years since I had last looked at it. I was also curious how much of the story I have written so far. With only four chapters I have a little over 10K words. Not bad really, though I plan to cut and add to those four chapters before I can continue on with chapter five and so on.

I glance at the calendar and see that I have a week and a half left until I start back to school. If I’m not swamped with homework maybe I can get a little writing done here and there.

A child locked in

Yesterday I went to Target to get my mini me new shoes. I had enrolled her in daycare for the first time. Im a little nervous though. For two and a half years she and I haven’t been separated for very long.

When we got there I stopped at Starbucks, she was pointing, saying truck. I turned to see what she was talking about. A ladder truck had pulled up a few minutes after we entered Target. I had ordered us a drink and turned to see that an ambulance arrived soon after. Our drink was ready for me to pick up. I push the buggy closer to the window and see a patrol car arriving. My cousin, Brandy, working behind the counter says that a child must’ve been locked in a car again. I said, “again?” She says, “oh yes, it happens all the time here.”

I turn back around to watch all the commotion. A couple of firemen grabbing tools from their truck, walk up to a small SUV and being prying the passenger door open. A lady nearby, pacing, her hands covering her mouth, I instantly assume that she’s the mother.

After several minutes of prying and pulling, the door gives way. A fireman unlocks the doors as a paramedic opens the back door. He turns around and in his arms a little boy, that looks like he could be at least one year old. His face red, but calm as could be. His mom stands next to the paramedic, watching him do his job. He checks him out then hands him over to mom, whom seems more than delighted to hold her baby boy. He must’ve been in there a good twenty minutes, maybe not that long.

I’m sure what had happened is that she had accidently locked her keys in the car while pushing her buggy back to the cart corral. It happens. With the triple degree weather we’ve been having daily almost the entire summer, the only thing anyone is thinking is to hurry and get out of the heat.