Enjoying life's adventures in a secluded mountain cabin

Posts tagged ‘fear’

New Directions

For the past few days, I’ve been contemplating my life and the choices I’ve made that have led me to the place I’m at right now.  My personal life, my identity as a Mother, my status as someone’s friend, my career, (or should I say, lack thereof).  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I wouldn’t change a thing about my life.  All of the choices I’ve made and things that I’ve went through have made me the woman that I am today and I’m proud to be that woman!  That’s not to say that things are perfect.  Far from it.  But, I decided a while back that things don’t have to be perfect for me to be happy and live in the moment instead of worrying about the future and all the pitfalls and doom and gloom that it might hold.  That doesn’t mean I still don’t worry.  Quite the contrary.

My mind sometimes takes hold of me and tries desperately to drag me down into the depths of the darkest, murkiest, most dismal ruins of my soul.  At times, I’ve found myself in this no man’s land and couldn’t even remember how I got there.  Other times, I’ve felt the descent coming on for days and tried to fight it with every fiber of my being.  But in the end, the darkness and sadness won.  It never lasts for very long.  After everything I’ve been through, I’m not willing to remain in that closed off space where despair and hopelessness lurk around every corner, waiting like a thief in the night to steal my joy and prove not only to myself, but also to the world around me, that my worst fears are now reality.  I’m way too upbeat and optimistic to remain in that horrid state of mind for long.

And so, this thought has led me to my current crossroads in life.  (I seem to have a lot of those!)  I’m at an age where most women are settling into a career, married, and beginning their families.  An age where most women are frantically trying to juggle motherhood, work, taking care of their house, carpools, PTA meetings, their kids sports, being a good wife, lover, and friend, and finally finding time for themselves.  I’m at an age where all of those things should be new and exciting for me, but they’re not.

My life is different than most women my age.  I had my children at a young age.  A very young age.  Too young.  And I got married at a young age.  A very young age.  Too young.  I’ve already done the juggling act.  I’ve already balanced home, kids, work, sports, and all that other jazz, plus college!  I’ve already been at that frazzled state where you’re just ready to run away from home to find a measly few little minutes of peace.  I’ve been to the depths of insanity and exhaustion that comes with the territory when you’re a working mother and wife.  And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it!  Like I said, my past is what has made me the woman that I am today.  But there is certainly a trade off when you make choices such as mine so early in life.

Long story short, after a little more than a decade in a loveless, hopeless, huge mistake of a marriage, I’m now divorced and my kids don’t live with me anymore.  One’s grown and the other decided on a much different path than I ever could have imagined for him.  One that lies with his father.  And, as many of you already know, I found what I believe to be truly and without a doubt, my soul mate in this world.  My Mountain Man.  My other half.  And with him, life has had new meaning and promise and hope eternal for my happily ever after.  There are still pieces missing, but none that one look from him, one touch of his hands on mine, can’t fix.  Even with him by my side, I still have things left in this world that I want to do before I die.  Like find a job, at this point!  Not just a job, but a career.  A way of life, if you will.

My life now looks more like that of the middle aged woman (not that I’m middle aged) whose children have left the nest and she’s now trying to create a new identity in this big old world.  It’s funny.  I used to think I would enjoy this time so much when I was younger.  I used to think of all the things I’d get to do when my kids were grown.  (And I am getting to do quite a bit of them!)  Don’t get me wrong, tho.  I love being a Mother.  My whole, entire adult life, that’s how I’ve most strongly identified myself.  As a Mother.  However, any of you out there who have survived a day, alone in a house with two small kids, knows exactly what I’m talking about.  We love our kids, and we cherish every moment we have with them, but we secretly, (or in my case, openly), dream about the day when we can sit down and read a book, have an uninterrupted thought, have an adult conversation, or (insert your “guilty indulgence here”), without having to change a diaper, or clean up spilled milk, or referee a fight between two brothers hell bent on killing each other over who took the last cookie from the jar.  We want to feel like a woman again, an intelligent human being, capable of anything she sets her mind to!

And so, here I am.  Looking for a new direction, yet again.  I’m not veering too far from the path I’m already on in life, but I’m looking for a detour that will lead me to a career that’s fulfilling, meaningful, and satisfying on an intellectual and emotional level.  I want to matter.  I want my work to mean something.  I want to make a difference in people’s lives and I want the end result to be a life well lived and full of promise and hope for every single person whom I’ve come in contact with throughout my years on this earth.  Even if it’s only through a smile to a stranger on the street.  I want to make a difference.

And I’m going to!!!

Right after I finish frosting those cupcakes I baked this morning!




The Mountain and The Rest Of The World

Not a lot of people like winter around here.  Most of them actually hate this time of year.  Even if they think the snow is pretty to look at, they hate having to navigate the winding mountain roads when the weather’s bad.  I am not one of these people.  I actually don’t mind driving in the snow.  And driving in a snow storm at night ranks right up there on my list of little things that I love so much.  I love Winter and everything about it.  However, that being said, living up here on the side of one of these mountains has given me a whole new appreciation for driving in the snow, or up here, driving anywhere from a few days to a week after the snow.

We can pretty much count on getting the fluffy, white stuff if there’s even the slightest indication of it in our local forecast.  It’ll snow up here when it’s not snowing anywhere else.  It’s really amazing.  At the bottom of the mountain, or civilization, as some like to refer to it, it’ll be dry as a bone and nothing going on.  About half way up the mountain, the flakes begin to fly and by the time I get to our house, it looks like someone’s shook up a snow globe!  For this snow lover, it’s really a wonderful life up here.

Looking at a mountain range far off in the distance after a snow storm and seeing that part of the mountain has melted and is back to its regular brown Winter color and the other part is still snowy white, blanketed in the glorious fluffy, white stuff has always been stunning and gorgeous to me.  Especially when the setting sun casts the last colors of daylight on one of these mountains.  Vivid, deep purples, bright magentas, and shades of auburn that appear to change with each curve of the mountain and the various shades of white and brown.  But after living up here, near the top of one of these majestic mountain ranges, I’ve found that I have a new appreciation for this phenomenon.

There are distinct lines between winter and fall after the warm, Winter sun has melted part of the mountain.  Driving along the windy road, one side of the forest floor will be snowy white, while the other side will be filled with all the rich brown, earthy colors of Fall.  And it changes with each twist and turn in the road.  At certain points, it’s Winter on the left and Fall on the right.  Then, as you wind your way higher, just beyond the next bend in the road, Fall’s on the left and Winter’s now on the right.  It’s really quite amazing.

The drawback to all this beauty is that parts of the mountain melt completely away, leaving no trace of the slick snow, ice, and slush, while other parts melt just enough to form what should be considered an Olympic sport arena where instead of wearing skates, people drive 4×4 vehicles, sometimes equipped with chains, to compete for gold medals.  I’m pretty sure Mountain Man would take the gold each and every year in this event.

I had never been afraid of driving on slick roads in my life until I started trying to drive on these roads up here.  Even on a good day, these roads aren’t for the faint of heart.  I’ve been told that there are grown men who won’t drive down our driveway in the snow!  But I have.  I’ve done it a few times.  It’s not that bad as long as you’ve got all the right equipment.  You know, a four-wheel drive vehicle, a really good set of tires, the ability to actually drive in the snow, and for me, the ability to pray and drive at the same time.  I get real close to God this time of year.   However, just because I’ve done it, does not mean I wanna do it again.

I’m supposed to go out this morning and I just really don’t know if I’m gonna try it or not.  I’m missing some of the necessary equipment required to get me safely to the bottom.  My tires are not the best in the world and the thoughts of going down the parts of the mountain that didn’t melt at all yesterday make me wanna go crawl back in bed and hide under the covers.

So here I sit, debating back and forth, the pros and cons of going out this morning.  The sun’s just coming up over the mountains to the East and the Carolina blue sky is dotted with a few high puffy clouds.  It’s another one of those beautiful NC mornings.  Snow or no snow, slick road or dry, I know just how lucky I am to live here in this little cabin, on the side of this mountain, with my Mountain Man.




2012- Is The End Near or Are We Just Beginning?

I woke up this morning and had an epiphany while lying in Mountain Man’s big strong arms.  Well, actually, he might’ve been the one to kick start my epiphany.  After I said something about it being the first day of a new year, he reminded me that it’s now 2012.  So we jokingly went back and forth about this being our last year together and how we better make it count.

Well, that got me thinking.  What if this really is our last year on this earth?  What if these next 355 days are gonna be the very last days of our lives?  355 days because supposedly, the world’s supposed to end on December 21, 2o12.  355 days is not a lot of time when I stop and think about all the things I’ve ever wanted to do with my life before I leave this earth.  And I’ll bet there’s a whole lot of other people out there who feel the same way.  I know there’s a lot of people who have bucket lists, either written down somewhere, like me, or at the very least, filed safely away somewhere in the back of their minds where they can revisit the list and add to it while waiting in line at the grocery store or sitting in traffic or waiting for the doctor to come in while they’re sitting on that cold table in that cold room with nothing but socks and a paper gown for warmth and cover.  By the way, those paper gowns are on my list of most hated things.  We’ll get into that another time.

I know for me, personally, some of the items on my bucket list cannot be completed without a great deal of money.  Money that I’ve not yet had time to save up for.  I’ve not even started my bucket list savings account with my credit union!  I’ve been raising kids since I was practically a kid myself!  There’s never been enough extra to sock away for Mama’s wish list!  I always thought I’d fulfill my list much later in life.

If this is it, if these are truly the last days, then I guess that like a whole lot of other people out there, I won’t get to do all the things I dreamed of doing before I leave this earth.  I won’t get to visit the Louvre and stare in pure wonderment at some of the world’s most beautiful and famous artwork, or see Michelangelo’s work at the Sistine Chapel, or sink my toes in the black sand beaches of Punalu’u in Hawaii.  I may not ever try sushi or have coffee in The French Quarter.  I may not ever get to gaze upon Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, or try to get one of the guards to giggle at Buckingham Palace, or visit Paula Deen’s restaurant in Savannah.  I might not make it to a beach that has white sand and crystal blue waters where I can swim with dolphins.  I may never fly… anywhere.  I might not get to try snowboarding or snorkeling.  I may never make it out to Jackson Hole for the hunting trip of a lifetime.  And these are only a few of the things on my to-do list for my life.

There are a great deal of things on my bucket list that require no monetary compensation to complete them.  And it’s all those “little things” that I hope to really work on in the next few months.  I’m a realist, so I know that I won’t be able to complete all of them.  But, I’m also a woman who is full of perpetual hope and faith and I believe that good things come to those who wait.  I believe in a great deal of things in this world, as well as the hereafter.  And it’s my belief in all these things that’s gonna help me check off as many of my items on my bucket list as I possible can.  Some of them, I’ll have to actively work on making them happen.  Others, I hope will just fall right into my lap when I least expect them to.  And it’s those things that I think are gonna mean the most to me.

I love life’s little surprises that make you smile like a fool for no reason and make others wonder about your sanity.  Those are the best moments.

So, while I personally don’t believe that the Four Horsemen are gonna come galloping up in 355 days, and I really doubt that I’m gonna make very many changes to my daily life as a direct result of an impending “end”, I do however think I’m gonna live my life with more purpose this year.  I don’t do New Year’s resolutions.  But if I did, savoring something, big or little, each and every day would be mine.



Am I Getting Dumber With Age?

Do you believe that as we age, we lose a certain amount of knowledge with every passing day, month, year, decade, etc.?  I’ve read several articles eluding to just that and here lately, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some truth to these findings.  I haven’t quite figured out what’s going on just yet, but some days I feel as though I’m actually getting dumber.

I’ll be having a conversation and I can see the word I want to use for just a split second and then, poof, it’s gone and I have to pause for a moment to try and recover it from somewhere deep in the recesses of my somewhat rather large head.  You’d think that having a head as big as mine is, there’d be plenty of room in there to adequately store all these words in some sort of organized way so they may be retrieved when needed.  No such luck for this gal.

Honestly though, there are times when I seriously debate whether or not I’m actually losing brain cells, or just misplacing them, as the years keep passing by.  I mean, I always thought that you’re supposed to get smarter with age, wiser.  I’ve really been wracking my brain about this over the last few weeks because my condition just seems to be getting worse with every passing day.

I’ve joked around for years now that Aricept is in my future.  For those of you that don’t know, Aricept is a drug that helps to slow the development of Alzheimer’s.  While I don’t believe I have early onset Alzheimer’s or some form of dementia, I just know there’s gotta be a reason for all this forgetfulness!

I’ve had an unhealthy relationship with Post It notes pretty much my entire adult life just to keep me on track and remind me of the little things that I just can’t seem to keep straight.  You know: what to grab before I leave the house in the morning, where I placed an item that I’ll be needing later in the day, what I need to do for someone before I go to bed, etc.  That’s not so bad, right?

Oh, and one of the best examples of my ability to possibly be the world’s most scatter brained, yet educated woman occurred shortly after I started college.  This story will undoubtedly be told long after I’m dead and gone.  And please bear in mind that during this period in my life, I was a married, full time, adult college student, working two jobs, and raising two boys, one just starting kindergarten and the other in second grade.  Neither of my boys rode the bus at this point, either, so to say that mornings were hectic at my house would be a gross understatement.  Looking back, I have a feeling this might’ve led to my forgetfulness at the time.

Trying, in vain, I might add, to get all three of us up and ready for school, was at times, some of the most difficult days of all of my years being a Mother.  It never failed, my youngest son was an early riser, so he was always up, ready and raring to go at the crack of dawn.  And he was always so happy.  He’d greet me every morning with a smile and a big hug and kiss.  I sure do miss those good morning kisses.  While my other son could have slept through a nuclear attack outside his bedroom window without ever even rolling over.  And he was the devil incarnate!  Talk about someone who’s not a morning person!  Wow.  Looking back, it’s a miracle we ever made it through any of those early school mornings.

Anyway, my morning had to start with coffee before I was able to function.  Until the caffeine hits the synapses, I’m completely useless as a human being.  So, I get about three sips of my coffee, while getting the kids dressed, fed, teeth brushed, getting myself fed, dressed, folding clothes that were in the dryer, re-loading the dryer, starting another load of laundry, putting dishes away, taking out the garbage, studying again for another yet another anatomy test, making beds, returning an important phone call, cleaning up spilled milk, assisting with tying shoes, packing lunches, making sure stray toys hadn’t found their way into back packs or jackets.  You know, just the usual morning stuff that every Mama has to go through.  Wait.  What?  You mean all Mama’s don’t do this every morning?  Seriously?  Hmmmm.

Somewhere in the midst of all the insanity and chaos that was taking place all around me, it occurred to me that I had only had just enough caffeine to tickle and tease my senses.  I could still smell the coffee lingering in the air, but for the life of me, I could not locate my cup!  I searched everywhere!  I’ll bet I made fifty trips up and down the steps in our apartment looking in every room, on every counter, dresser, and nightstand.  I knew I’d actually had a cup of coffee that morning.  I could still taste the last sip I’d taken.

I tried to retrace my steps to locate my missing java, but it was GONE!  Completely vanished into thin air.  I started asking the kids if they’d hid it from me as a joke, I was asking myself if I’d hid it from me as a joke.  This was getting serious.  I literally thought I was losing my mind that morning.

Just when I was ready to just wave the white flag of defeat and crawl back under the covers, I happened to glance over at the microwave.  And wouldn’t ya know it.  There sat my coffee mug inside the microwave where I had put it earlier to warm it back up.  I had to just laugh.  I laughed until I was crying because I felt like I might just truly be losing my mind.  My kids laughed with me, (not at me, of course), and then we headed off to school and work.

I’ve never actually lost my coffee again since then, but I have brewed countless pots of hot water and even recently made a big ol piping hot pot of nothing.  I remembered the coffee, but forgot the water.

I’ve always said that it’s a good thing I’m cute, ’cause God knows there’s gotta be a trade off for Mountain Man to keep me around.  For while I consider myself to be very intelligent and well read, these days my conversational skills just aren’t up to par.  I’m blaming multitasking and stressful parenting for all my forgetfulness.

I’m hoping that this too shall pass.

If not, let’s hope I stay cute for a long, long time!

The Battle

I have come to the point in my life that I have dreaded for so long.  I’ve reached the proverbial end of my rope.  And I knew it was coming.  I knew it was gonna happen.  I have no grand illusions of getting through these next few years unscathed.  But I really, really wasn’t expecting it to be this hard.

Teenagers.  More specifically, a teenage boy.  Two little, seemingly insignificant words, but for me, they inflict great stress, worry, fear, doubt, and at times, hatred.

Hatred might be too strong of a word.  I swear, I don’t really hate this once wonderful boy.  But, at times, I just want to run as far away from him as I possibly can and never look back!  Any parent of a teenager can relate.  I hope.  If not, then please have mercy on me and don’t judge me too harshly.

I know that teenagers are, at times, completely foreign to us parents who are just trying to help our children turn into productive members of society.  But, I swear, and I know each generation of parents says this about their kids, but I swear, these kids today are worse than I ever was growing up.  And Lord knows I was one mouthy teenager.  God bless my poor Mama for having to endure me.  But I truly believe, with all my heart and soul, that my Mama woulda killed me for sure if I’d have done some of the things my son is trying to get away with.  I say trying because I’ve not lost complete control… yet.

That being said, as previously stated, I do think I’m at the end of my rope with this kid.  I think my breaking point has been reached and it’s time for an overhaul before things get really outta hand.  Right now, it’s mostly just the normal teenage crap that I’m having to deal with; the mouthiness, the know it all syndrome, the I’ll be nice long enough to get my way syndrome, the I don’t know or I forgot syndrome, etc.  Any of y’all proud parents of older kids out there knows exactly what I’m talking about.  But I feel like I’ve gotta get this thing under control or it’s gonna morph into something far worse than just a know it all kid who’s sassy and lazy.

And my absolute favorite response from everyone I’ve talked to about this, “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better so prepare yourself.”  Uggghhh!

What the heck am I supposed to do with that kind of honesty?  Couldn’t they just lie to me?  Just a little?  Just enough to give me a little glimmer of hope for a brighter tomorrow?

The truth is, No, they couldn’t.  Because I’m not a woman who wants the truth sugar-coated.  I want the cold hard facts.  These same people keeping reassuring me that things will get better and that this is just a phase that all teenagers go through and that I just have to hold my ground and stay on him and it’ll all work itself out in the end.  I sure do hope they’re all right.

My biggest problem is that I’m sometimes a little too lenient and I have times when I’m not very consistent.  And I’m learning that this is probably the key to my whole problem here.  But in my defense, he didn’t come with an instruction manual and I vehemently loathe playing the bad guy all the time!  This past week I found myself wishing for just one day, one day, without any tension or conflict with this kid.  Just one day where I could sit back and enjoy being with this once wonderful boy that I know is still hiding somewhere deep within the recesses of all this ugliness that just seems to emanate from this kid.

Bam!  Reality set in real quick and he and I had a Come-to-Jesus meeting the other day and here I am, playing the bad guy, yet again.  I see all these other families where they appear to have good relationships with their kids and the mothers don’t look like they’re gonna climb a clock tower with an Uzi and the fathers are cool, calm and collected and their kids are always just so polite…  Wait a minute!

On the outside, we look like that, too!!!  Because for all his faults, that boy of mine is always well behaved and very polite when we’re out together with friends or at a family function.  He’s always on his best behavior at those times.  It’s only when we’re alone together that he shows his behind!  Maybe, just maybe, most, if not all, of these other families are having the same kinds of issues at their house.  Perhaps, all these other seemingly “perfect” families aren’t so perfect after all.  Maybe they’re all just trying to muddle through these teenage years just like we are!  And perhaps their kids, just like mine, are really good people inside and they’re just trying to find their way through all the hormonal changes and peer pressure and sexual changes and every other weird thing that happens when you’re a teenager.  Maybe…

But, that doesn’t stop me from wanting peace and harmony in my house again.  And it sure doesn’t mean that my rope just extended a few more feet.  There will still be order and civility in our house!  Teenagers or no teenagers!  I’m still working on cracking the code for turning this torturous monster/loving boy into a good man one day.  I’ll let y’all know if I figure it out.  If any of you out there have any suggestions, feel free to share.  I’m always open to learning new things.  And I promise not to climb any clock towers any time soon.

Thanks again for being patient with me.

I’m Trying… Really, I Am

We went blackberry picking again yesterday evening after Mountain Man got off work and the heat subsided a little.  And I do mean just a little.  It was still hot this morning when we got up at 6 am!  But anyway, we picked almost a gallon of big, ripe, juicy blackberries and we’ll be making jam this weekend for sure!

However, on our way back to the cabin with our baskets full of little, fat, juicy, black beauties, we ran across this little, skinny, black beauty lying in the middle of the road, soaking up what was left of the days heat from the rocks.  Funnily enough, I wasn’t stricken with the old familiar gut wrenching fear that usually overwhelms me suddenly when I see one of these slithering little darlings.  I was actually a little excited to happen upon him during our little excursion.

Mountain Man has been absolutely wonderful in trying to help me overcome my fear of snakes.  Whereas a lot of people would thoroughly take advantage of my somewhat crippling fear of serpents and attempt to scare me every single time the opportunity presented itself, he has been very supportive and patient with me and tried to help me warm up to these cold-blooded beasts.  He’s always very slow and very cautious with them when he finds them.  He doesn’t play with the poisonous ones.  At least not around me, he doesn’t!  But, he’ll pick them up and let them wrap their little tails around his hand or arm, depending on how long they are.  He’ll bring them over toward me slowly and then let me come the rest of the way.  I certainly don’t wanna get too close to them.  God forbid if one was to ever lunge at me!  I’d die right then and there!

But, my wonderful Mountain Man stands there, patiently holding the snake and lets me look at him and check out his beautiful designs.  All the while, I’m really just trying to work up the nerve to reach my hand over and touch his scaly, reptilian skin.  And Mountain Man knows this.  So he continues to wait patiently until I’m ready.  And he never, ever makes fun of me for being so scared of these lovely creatures.  He always tries to encourage me to make nice with our little friends here on the mountain.

So, finally, I work up the nerve and reach out and touch the little fella.  And ya know what?  It wasn’t so bad after all.  I’ve touched a couple in the past, but this time, I kinda went a little farther than my just barely letting the skin on the tip of my pointer finger graze across the animals body just in case he decided to eat me kinda touching.

I actually rubbed the snake, petted him, if you will, and felt his muscles move as he wiggled around in Mountain Man’s hands.  My God, how I love his hands!  But that’s another story for another time.

It was actually pretty amazing to feel the power in this little devil’s body and to marvel at just how unique these creatures are.  Perhaps one day, with Mountain Man’s help, my fear of snakes will completely dissipate and I’ll no longer cringe every time I think of the little darlings.  One can only hope.

*Oh yeah.  Before I forget…  These pictures were taken with my son’s cell phone so they’re not very good.  Sorry about the quality, but I just had to have some proof that I’d actually touched a snake!  I’ll try to do better next time!

My Brush With Death

Ya know, I really like living up here in the woods, on the side of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere.  Really, I do.  Some people think I’m nuts for living this far away from civilization, but they just don’t understand.  And it’s really not for everybody.  That being said, there is one thing that I must admit that I do not care for and this one thing is something that I’ve written about before but I feel compelled to write about it again.  So, I’m going to.

With all this gardening we’ve been doing up here at the cabin, I decided that I want to make some blackberry jelly.  So, Mountain Man, my son, and I went blackberry picking one afternoon last week.  It has been unusually hot for our neck of the woods here lately, so we decided to wait ’till the late afternoon to head out on the 4-wheelers in search of the deliciously sweet berries that grow wild in various parts of the mountain.

I was prepared for most anything.  Even though it was sweltering hot, I had on jeans and my pink, multicolored striped boots.  We had a basket for the berries.  We were off to a fairly slow start at first.  Most of the berries weren’t quite ripe enough for picking.  They were still kinda small and for the most part, they were that beautiful pinkish-red hue.  Some of them were still just tiny green balls beginning their journey toward the plump juicy blackberries they will later become.

We found a few good ripe ones here and there, but nothing really of considerable significance to help fill our basket.  Then, Mountain Man turned up a road that I’ve never been on in all my time here on the mountain.  Jackpot!  We hit the mother load of blackberry bushes!  These thorny branches were hanging full of plump, juicy blackberries!  Some of them were ripe for the picking, and some of them were bright red, just on the verge of turning.  But there were plenty to help fill our basket.

I had to take a phone call while we were picking, so I stepped away from Mountain Man and my son and was trying to listen intently to the person on the other end of the line when it happened.

I was innocently walking through the grass close to the edge of the bank where the guys were picking and he came outta nowhere!  He slithered right by my foot and off into the bushes growing right in front of me!  And he was a fast little devil, too!!!  All I saw was a little 13 or 14 inch grey serpent slithering swiftly to and fro in the grass, away from me, I might add!  And I almost peed my pants, screamed like a little school girl, and cussed a blue streak all in the same breath!  But I didn’t!  I was on the phone with someone who may or may not understand my slew of profanities at the thought of being eaten alive by a snake!

I did, however, let out a little shriek and let my caller know that she’d have to hold on for a minute while I composed myself after nearly meeting an untimely death at the hands of a creepy, slithery, snake.  She totally understood, having shared my deep-seeded fear of serpents.  After I took a few deep breaths, I was able to get a hold of myself and return to the conversation, but for the rest of the evening, I couldn’t help but shudder, somewhat violently, I might add, every single time I thought about how close I was to that snake.

I’ve said it before.  I don’t wish these little darlings any harm.  I don’t want to kill them.  I just want them to leave me alone.  Perhaps they could just give me a little warning of sorts before they pop outta nowhere.  That’d definitely be nice.

But, alas, I’ve moved into their territory so I’m just gonna have to get used to the slithering little devils popping out every once in a while.  Surely, I’ll eventually become desensitized to the dang things at some point!  One can only hope…

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