CluePhone

If you’re like me, you have those moments where you have a great idea, and you’re thinking to yourself “Hey, this would be something people would like if I blogged about it” Then, by the time you get your word processing program open, you have totally forgotten what they hell you were so previously verbose about. Yeah, thus this blog. Of nothingness. Or, close to it. But there was SOMETHING there, just a nano-second ago. This is your (my) cue to start thinking… “Hmmm, Olympics? No. Dixie Chicks? No. The latest Crate & Barrel catalog? No. I like pie. Well, yeah, but… no. WHAT THE HELL WAS MY FANTASTIC IDEA TWO SECONDS AGO?!?!” It’ll probably come to me at about 3:34 a.m., just after I’ve managed to fall asleep. Without a writing instrument and pad nearby. It’s so hard being a genius. And a better driver than 94% of the population. I rarely even talk on my hands-free cell phone while driving, and that’s not a smug look on my face right now. I usually look this way. Unless I’m shooting pool, because then I am required to stick out my tongue from the corner of my mouth. What were we talking about? Eight ball, corner pocket!” Hey that reminds me of something……   dang.

(also known as “The Shudder”)

We all have those things we fear. Whether it be spiders (“Hi mom and Twisty!”), snakes (“Yo, Grandma T!”) or sandals with socks. (Hey, umm… most of us.)

For me, it’s something else. And no, we’re not talking about a giant plate of lima beans. Although that’s probably a close second. (Those of you that are delicate, or squeamish about things might not want to read on. Heh.)

Parasites. There, I’ve said it. Any kind of parasite, where some creature latches on to you and starts to SUCK YOUR BLOOD is so many different kinds of wrong. I think my fear of parasites may have started when I read “On The Banks of Plum Creek” and they lured Nellie into the leach-infested section of the creek. Even though she TOTALLY deserved it, I was like, “Okay, that’s pure hell.”

I’ll never forget the time we had been up at the lake, and my aunt had driven us kids back to our house. I was taking a shower, and glanced over to my shoulder. There was a TICK, just happily sucking away my life force. I had to finish my shower, growing steadily dizzier. (That may have been my mind working overtime. We’ll never know.) I hurriedly dressed and went out to show my aunt this Horror, this Abomination. She was calm, although she could have just been putting on a brave face for my life-threatening predicament. She tipped a bottle of rubbing alcohol over the tick, and it released itself from its deadly grip.

And in the Olden Days, they used to use leaches, as part of their “medical technique.” If I were living then, and was approached with a leach, I would have been all, “No, no, sire doctor. I’m feeling just fine now. I don’t even think that’s gout, really. I must have banged my leg against something. Hand me that giant turkey drumstick!”

There could still be tick parts, like tubules or something, floating around in my system. Just waiting…. Waiting for the day.

{{shudder}}