X-New York Gal

This is a continuation of my encounters of the creepy kind – namely spiders. Eek! I’ve had two more life-scarring confrontations that I will never forget and if the spiders were alive to tell, they probably wouldn’t forget either.

Don’t get me wrong – I really don’t advocate killing spiders because they are living creatures and do have their place in nature, but I still haven’t gotten to the point (and probably never will) of capturing them with a tissue and gently placing them outside.

One morning I was walking around the house searching for my slippers. I found them in the dining room and slipped my bare feet in them. The top inside of the slipper felt a little scratchy but I didn’t really give it much thought. You know how the fuzzy part of a slipper picks up little pieces of debris. Then I figured I may as well clean it off so it doesn’t keep scratching my foot. I pulled off the slipper and picked it up to see what was there and . . .out plopped a huge black, hairy spider! My heart stopped. Dizziness overtook me and I thought I would pass out. Holy crap! I was alone in the house with no one but the cat to rescue me.

After my heart started back up I grabbed the slipper and – whack! Shaking, I picked it up with a tissue and disposed of it. I think it was another wolf spider. From then on, I always check my slippers and shoes before putting my feet in. Let that be a lesson to all of you!

My Mom stopped by yesterday for coffee on her way back from the supermarket. While chatting, we got on the subject of my irrational fear of spiders and how over the years she tried to desensitize me by – hmmm, let me see now – plopping me down in a giant web spun by some sort of creepy garden spider when I was just a little girl, and placing fake spiders between the sheets when I’d come visit her on my semi-annual treks to Florida before moving here. (To be fair, it wasn’t spiders all the time – try rubber cockroaches and those little fur covered toy mice for cats.)

I never knew what would turn up under the covers and after a while I became immune to these offerings. None of this helped me overcome my fear, though. If nothing else, it made it even worse. When confronted with a spider, especially the big black, hairy ones down here in Florida, I still go into shock. My heart pounds and my knees want to buckle right out from under me.

While living in Florida I’ve had three major spider confrontations (so far) that will stick in my mind for all eternity.

Anyway, this is what a spider looks like to someone with acute arachniphobia. In reality the legs were probably only an inch and a half long with a body the size of a penny.

The spider skittered off the door and into the bedroom. I panicked and grabbed the cat then slammed the door shut, closing the spider off in the bedroom. Uh, oh – what did I just do? Oh, no. . .

I grabbed my car keys, tear-assed out the door and scoured the park for Bill. Needless to say, when I did find him he wasn’t too happy being called off duty for something as mundane as a spider. He also wanted to know why I shut the spider in the bedroom. I, in my hysteria, probably said something unintelligible, then told him if he didn’t catch the spider, I was running away from home and sleeping elsewhere.

I spent the night across the street at our friends’ house in their spare bedroom. Al and Dee still haven’t let me forget the incident.

I came home the following day. Bill and Smoochie Cat were up until after two in the morning hunting for the spider, to no avail. That night I was in our spare room playing on the computer – all night if I had to. No way was I going to bed with a giant spider on the loose.

Suddenly Bill came to the room and said, “Don’t move. Just stay where you are.” Then, whack! He intercepted the spider just as it was about to enter the room I was in. My hero!

I put the dead spider in a baggie (don’t worry, my eyes were closed) and showed it to an exterminator the following day. He confirmed it was a wolf spider and quite harmless. Still. . . a spider is a spider!

Those of you who work or have worked in offices have probably attended a holiday office party at one time or another. Nowadays, many of these parties have become rather tame affairs; some even include spouses.

During my many years of working in offices, everyone (or almost everyone) always looked forward to the annual office party – the big mouthwatering spread and all the booze you could consume in four hours.

When I worked for the GAB in New York City many moons ago, our party was usually held in a reserved hotel room. Christmas lights twinkled on the tree and food and bottles sat upon a white cloth-covered table set up along a wall. Us young gals – of which there weren’t too many – would get all glammed up, drink and flirt like hell. Since spouses weren’t invited to these affairs, we all had a blast; no one looking over anyone’s shoulders with reproving glares.  Since this was before the days of sexual harrassment awareness, there was also a lot of ass-grabbing going on.

I can recall one party for which I bought a black, sleeveless, lace-covered mini dress – very chic at the time. I accessorized it with long silver-balled earrings and strappy, silver high-heeled shoes. I’ll never understand what possessed me to wear a strapless bra under this dress because there was literally not much to hold it up with. I think I spent more time in the bathroom pulling the bra up from around my waist than I did at the party. Eventually, I gave up, pulled it off and stuck it in my purse. I really don’t think anybody noticed the difference.

I remember other parties when working at other companies. Some were held at restaurants, others in the office building. Alcohol always abounded with plenty of food to sop it up. Some of these affairs were dress-up occasions while others were sit-at-your-desk-and-eat deals.

At one company I worked for in Farmingdale on Long Island, the party was held on the second floor. We’d break work a few hours early and head upstairs where we’d eat, drink and most of us were wasted by the time the party ended. Luckily no one got killed or killed anyone on their way home.

Another great party was held at the Huntington Yacht Club. I remember our employers passing out some really nice gifts like fancy perfumes and things.

In later years, the parties became less memorable as employers became more alcohol and lawsuit aware. In some ways this was good and in other ways, not so good. Parties would consist of salads, sandwiches, cookies and soda and everyone who wanted to join the party had to chip in a couple of bucks. We’d gather in little groups around people’s desks and balance food on our laps, eating and waiting until it was politically correct to bolt out the door and meet our work buddies at the local drinking establishment.

Yeah, those were the days. Now that I’m older and my car is my office, I miss the camaraderie of my office years. I miss all my old working friends and the fun times we had. I still keep in touch with some of the people I’ve worked with through the years, and have sometimes managed to get together with them. I wouldn’t give up those years for anything!

The end of 2008 is nigh.  So, how was your year?  Did you accomplish everything you set out to do?  If not, don’t feel too bad; most of us probably didn’t.  I know I didn’t.  I got a good start on things but after a while I lost momentum or interest and everything started going down the tubes.

 So here I am, faced with a new year.  Once again, will I lose the weight I regained after I lost it the year before?  Will I stick to an exercise program?  Will I get an e-business started?  Will I, will I, will I?  Who knows, but I’ll give it all another shot anyway. Because what is life without something to strive for; to hope for?

I could just sit here and let the world pass me by.  That’s certainly the easy way out.  But what will I have to show for my time on earth?  What will be my legacy?  What will be yours?

So get out there and keep plugging away.  Enjoy your life, create something, dance; whatever.  Start a blog, write a book.  But never give up.

A HAPPY AND HEALTHY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

Cat’s are usually more aloof and The Smooch is no exception.

Just because I’m standing near the chimney doesn’t mean I’m waiting for anyone.

                                       A litterbox?  You call this a present?

Hey, you wanna make somethin’ of it?

Well, Christmas is over and one more week to go before the tree comes down and everything is back to normal. Since things have been pretty hectic around here, I’ll just bore you with some pictures.

Santa’s here!

Where are my presents?

Found one!  Thanks Santa.

Hi, it’s Christmas Eve and I finally finished shopping and wrapping gifts. My cards were sent in what is (I hope) a timely manner and most of the people they were sent to should get them before Christmas. Once again – I hope.

All my other chores have been crossed off my list and after lunch I’ll kick back and relax.

Oh wait, first I have to fold the laundry and put that away, then maybe sort my e-book collection into categories. Right now they’re just jumbled pages thrown together in loose leaf binders. I guess while I’m still up and about I should walk the dog. Oh, and once the roast thaws out, I can throw that in the oven and start dinner.

I shouldn’t complain though. My husband works 40 hours a week, then many times comes home and cooks dinner. (Actually, he doesn’t care for my cooking, so . . .)

I won’t bore you any further today. Actually, I just want to wish you all

When I was a kid I just loved Christmas. All those toys; the tree decked out in lights, tinsel and gaily colored decorations; visiting our grandparents’ homes; cookies – it was all great. Okay, our toys weren’t those fancy gas and battery powered all-terrain vehicles all the kids want (and get) these days – I remember getting a green station wagon car you sat in and pedaled. Yes pedaled, as in using your own leg and foot power. No computers or cell phones. More like books (which I still love receiving) and board games and little toys you moved around by hand. Unfortunately as I grew older, Christmas sort of lost its magic when I started receiving clothes and underwear – of all things.

Nowadays, the holidays are just days to get through so my life and house can get back to normal. My grandparents are long gone and our families are up North, except for my Mom who lives nearby. To her Christmas is also just another day. She no longer puts up decorations except for maybe a small ceramic tree she made in a ceramics class years ago.

Somehow Christmas just got lost in the commercialization of it all. Do you really need to see Christmas trees and decorations before Halloween? Do you really need to be reminded that there are 60 shopping days left before Christmas? Is this really what Christmas is supposed to be about? Has everybody forgotten the true meaning and the reason we celebrate Christmas? It sure seems that way. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all religious on you.)

I must say, though, that my husband is still the last Christmas holdout in our family. Every year he decorates the house, both inside and out. He also makes me help decorate the tree to Christmas music. Normally, he cooks the dinner and we have my Mom and friends over. (This year we’re having dinner, at Al and Dee’s home, along with my Mom.) So, I guess all is not lost. But I would give anything to go back just once to a Christmas when I was a kid, my family was together and my grandparents were alive – and, oh yeah, don’t forget my toys.

I guess my mother has become somewhat jaded. Brother #2 (Steven) flew down for a surprise visit – surprise to my mother anyway. So, we tried to figure out how to catch her off guard. We came up with a bunch of elaborate schemes – like dropping him off in the local Publix then taking her there on the pretense of food shopping – but when she called me on Wednesday about stopping by for coffee we decided Steven would answer the door. Since he’s been in Florida only once since Mom moved down here in 1988, we figured he’d be the last person she’d expect.

First he had to be disguised; the usual hat covering the face and dark shades. His t-shirt, however, had something to do with horseracing on it and I told him he should change into another shirt. (He’s into horses and his job also has something to do with the subject. If you’re into horseracing, his and his associate’s website is www.topspeedhorses.com). Steve said she’d never notice.

Soon Mom knocked on the door and Steven answered. I hid around the corner . She stared at him, thinking “did I knock on the right door?”, then thought he was someone else. She couldn’t imagine why that particular man would be in my house. She gave him the old up and down look and her eyes rested on the shirt. “Steven???”

Damn! We should have gone to Publix. Maybe next year.

I’ve been somewhat remiss in writing lately. Life has been pretty hectic lately and I feel like I’ve been on a merry-go-round, but a fun one nevertheless.

First, my brother Bob drove down from New York for two weeks staying at both my mother’s house and our house. Of course we all went out a lot; Sanibel, flea markets, antique shops including all those in Arcadia, and whatever. I mean, who am I to not join in?

After Bob left, my other brother, Steve, came came down for four days so we took him around. He’d never been to Sanibel, so back we went. Hey, I love sightseeing and going into all the little shops. Somewhere in between all this, I managed to make time for my job.

Now Christmas is looming around the corner and it’s looming pretty damn fast. I haven’t sent out cards (haven’t even made them out yet), nor have I done any Christmas shopping. Last minute Evi, that’s me.

So please forgive me. But I will be posting a new entry this week titled “Prankin’ Mom 2”. Yup, we did it again.