Critters.

Due to some apparent confusion, I decided to help out my co-blogger with a bit of research.

I'm pretty sure we don't have wolf spiders, because I'd recognize that face anywhere.

How about funnel weavers?

Nope, don't think so, because we don't have spider webs. It looks like more research is needed.

As for other critters, this just appeared in my mailbox:


Dear Bonnell West Homeowner,
 
I received an email this morning that a bear was spotted this morning at Wild Plum Drive and Kyle Circle.
 
Please be cautious and keep your pets and garbage cans inside!
 
Thank you.

Colorado: +1

Odd Days: It's spider season!

Last week, my friend...hmmmm...my friendly acquaintance, Susan, was here to help me bring my home back into compliance with health code regulations. I was in my office busily moving piles of papers off the floor and onto my desk when I hear a soft, "Twila." I stopped rustling papers, and sure enough, I hear another "Twila" followed quickly by "HEY, TWILA!"

I went running to the staircase, leaned over and asked, "What's wrong?" She said, "Do you want to see the biggest spider you've ever seen in your life? A tarantula, I think." I looked. "Naw, that's just a wolf spider," I said, "and not a very big one at that." "What should I do?" she asked. "Well don't kill it. Just relocate it to the front yard."

She said ok and I retreated to my office. I had barely resumed my squat when I hear, "AIEEEEEEEEE! TWIIIIIILLLLLLAAAAAAA!" (Notice, she didn't call Durf.) I went running out. "What happened?" "I tried to pick it up with my mop but it escaped!"

So I relocated the wolf spider and life returned to normal.

Then this last weekend, I was strolling the neighborhood with a couple of friends (no, not new CO friends, but old CA friends) when one of them stops abruptly and bends over to examine some road kill. "Lookie here," he said, "a squashed tarantula." I rush over and kneel down so I can get a close look. "Not a tarantula," I declare. "It's a hairy rabbit bush flower." I pick it up and hand it to him, ostensibly so that he can examine it, but in truth to see if he would recoil. He didn't. Darn.

We continued our meandering and in short order, a woman comes flying out of her house and waves us down. (STG, I am not making this up.) In her hand is a jar and in the jar is...you guessed it...a wolf spider. She's breathless when she thrusts the jar in our faces. "I think I found a tarantula in my house. Doesn't it look like a tarantula to you?" "Wolf spider," I said.

That was last week. This week I am less sure that we have been seeing wolf spiders. I am now thinking that maybe these are funnel weaver spiders. For you budding naturalists out there, I'm happy to lay out my reasoning. For the rest of you, take heart. When you come to visit and find a giant spider in your bedding, I can (almost) assure you, it's not a tarantula.

P.S.

Nice song.

Slumming.

I don't mind shopping. Sometimes it's even fun. But if there is one store I hate to go to, it's Walmart, because it attracts so much trailer trash. (If any of the dear readers of this blog fit into that category, I assure you that no offense is intended.)

Unfortunately, having perused both Costco and Sam's Club in search of an AGM battery and failed to find one, today I decided to try Walmart. I wasn't successful, but as I strolled around observing the Walmartians, I thought about this blog and managed to snap a few photos with my cellphone camera.

Odd Days: *Un*friending

I have a sneaking suspicion that, as a result of my last post, some of you might think I am overly sensitive, or that you must now tiptoe around me and watch your every word. Well fergettaboutit.

I am not the least bit oversensitive, if you get my drift. My friends, acquired by sifting through the chaff of the world and nurturing the budding relationships through decades of life's highs and lows, are precious to me. They are bound to my bosom with superglue and purple prose.

As proof, I offer up the following samples of insults that have been hurled at me over the years by my friends. I can tell you that these insults bounced right off and, except for the fact that I have kept this list for nigh on three decades, said insults have had no affect on our friendship:

1. "Nobody would ever call you a cook, Twila."

2. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen such big feet on a female before."

3. "Well if it isn't Nurse Ratched...er, Twila."

4. "Your taste in shoes is, well, tacky."

5. "You probably don't vote."

6. After I used a word my friend didn't recognize: "That's a stupid word."

7. "Wow, I think I'm better than you at everything!"

8. Before giving a speech one day, a friend introduced me as follows: "You've just heard from the beauty of the group and now you are about to hear from the brains." Wait...was that an insult or a compliment?

9. "Whenever I do anything with you something terrible happens."

10. "I hate you! I never want to see you or hear from you again."

So, friends, fear not! You'll need more than a bloody insult to pry yourself from the arms of my friendship. Just don't ask me if I have any friends.

Exotica.

I'm really lucky in that I almost never am ill (KNOCK, KNOCK). The last time I was sick was when my friend Dan was visiting during what he described as the worst cold of his life and wanted to have a sip of my Cranberry Cosmo, and I was too polite to decline (and too stupid to just let him have the stupid drink, especially after I saw backwash through the straw). Soon thereafter I had the worst cold of my life.

Be that what it may (and if that isn't what it may, what is it?), about 4 days ago I started having a mild headache, mild malaise, and a low-grade fever. Every few hours I feel better and my temperature goes almost back to normal, then it returns. It's odd, and I had no idea what I'm suffering from, until Dr. T. diagnosed me. I have West Nile fever.

Now, instead of being annoyed that I don't feel well, I'm excited to have a truly exotic disease. Assuming I don't go lateral, that is.

Odd Days: Friending

At the end of this month we will have been in Colorado for six years. And if one more person asks me if I've made any friends in CO, I'm going to...well...I'm going to *unfriend* them!

The first time someone asked me that, I had been in CO maybe two weeks. I thought it was an odd question, so I didn't think much about it, figuring nobody else would ask. I was wrong. Soon someone else asked me the same thing. I said no. For god's sake, I just got here. But the question never went away. Some people still ask me every time we speak on the phone. "Have you made any friends yet?"

Think about it. Do you ask your neighbor if she has any friends? What kind of a question is that? Do people ask *you* if you have any friends? I have never asked anyone that question. It's not that I'm averse to asking intrusive questions. Clearly I am not. But that one never popped to mind.

And yet many many people -- even those who do not typically ask me questions about myself -- are vitally interested in my friend count. Why is that? I don't think it's out of concern for me, otherwise, why not inquire about my mental or physical health? Do my (non colorado) friends ask because they are concerned about being displaced? Are they contemplating a move to a new location and fear they also will fail to make new friends? Is it idle curiosity? Is it schadenfreude?

I'm going to settle something right now. The answer is: no, I have not made new friends. And to forestall all the "whys" I'll ruminate on that as well. I do not have children. I work at home...alone. I do not go to church. I do not borrow sugar.

And finally, to be honest, I expect I'm an acquired taste.

But if you are simply concerned about my well being, let me just say, you're all the friend(s) I need.

I think I know why he's praying.

Odd Days: Telluride Finale

A few final words about Telluride. Someone asked about subtitles. Quite some time ago, a friend recommended a movie to me and I said, "It sounds subtitled. Is it?" She thought for a moment, and then said, "I don't know." At the time, I thought that was very odd, but I have since come to believe that the better the subtitled movie, the less likely you are to notice the subtitles.

And indeed, in Telluride, I never think about it -- unless I am stuck in a seat that is at the far right of the first row of a huge theater AND there is a post in front of my left eye. In that case, if the film is subtitled, I am forced to multi-task in ways that even Leonard Maltin might find challenging. That's because I'm watching a (in this case) 2.5 hour movie with my neck twisted painfully up and to the left. Meanwhile, the last two or three words of each subtitle disappear behind the post forcing me to guess what the remainder of the sentence is. By the time I have finished solving the puzzle, my mind comes back to the screen, but I have (sometimes) missed something crucial.

I experienced the above nightmare only once. And although the vast majority of films at Telluride are subtitled, I generally did not notice.

Even if there were no film festival in Telluride, I would revel in being there. Here's why. (Unfortunately, these are only iphone photos, but I bet you'll get the idea.)

What do you do?

[Deep Thought]

You do what you do. Because if you don't do what you do, what the heck are you doing?