It's true, I am a wimp

I am sure that I've mentioned it before, but I am not particularly fond of snakes. For many years I spent my summers knee deep in shrubbery along side my sister and best friend as we made it out mission to catch as many garter snakes as possible. We'd place all the snakes we captured into a big garbage pail and then stare at them until my father would make us carry the pail down into the woods behind my house and let the snakes free. You would think that someone who is afraid of snakes would not actively go out and try to catch snakes, yet I did. But the image of twenty snakes gyrating against each other at the bottom of a garbage pail is something that I still have nightmares about.. As is the image of all those snakes slithering away as we tipped the pail onto its side and set them free (we played rock paper scissors to determine who the unfortunate soul would be that would get stuck with that task).
Snakes are everywhere. They hide under rocks, or leaves, or in piles of wood. They show up when you least expect them, and it's always sudden. There is no snake, and then there are twenty snakes in the blink of an eye. Well, maybe not twenty, but the point is they appear without warning. My family has a tendency to be careless in the summer months, every so often leaving the back door open just a crack in their comings and goings. On three separate occasions I have encountered snakes in my basement because of said carelessness. On three separate occasions I have hopped up on anything I could and have yelled for someone while pointing at the snake. Pointing clearly sends the message to the snake that I am dangerous and have found it out. Eventually either another member of my family will appear to pick the snake up and return it to the outdoors, or one of my parents' cats will corner it so that I can make my escape - backing away slowly, all the while pointing.
I point when I run into snakes outdoors, too. First I utter a surprised gasp, and then I point at the snake until it slides away. Why the pointing? I do not know. Maybe it just makes me feel better to know exactly where the snake is. Up until a few years ago (back before I had my dog), my parents had a black cocker spaniel who would pick snakes up and remove them from my path, or restrict their movement until I could get by. My dog does not care about snakes, as I found out yesterday upon meeting my first snake of the season.
"I did not know you would be out yet!" I cried at it and pointed. Instead of defending me from the terrifying snake (it was actually a very small snake, but that did not make it any less deadly... Unless you take into account the fact that it is non-venomous), my dog bounded by with a stick - actually driving the snake closer to me. Eventually my mother noticed that I was standing still and pointing at something so she took a short break from her gardening to move the snake and chastise me for being such a wimp.


It makes me hungry just thinking about it

I don't know what most people day dream about, but I day dream about making pasta. There are so many kinds of awesome pasta that I have yet to make and I spend hours a day thinking about the day(s) when I will finally make it. I dream of pasta dough rolled out into perfectly rectangular 5" x 12" sheets, ready for me to slice into the noodle of my choice. I dream of adding spinach, or basil, or some other type of herb into the dough as to infuse it with a little extra flavor (and colour). Sometimes I even go so far as to incorporate making my own sauce into the same day dream.. Other times making the sauce takes up a whole day dream on its own.
I lead a wild life.. What can I say?


The cat is almost as big as the moon

The above picture is a drawing I made of a night this past week when the President escaped through the back door and tried to run away from home. My father chased him, for a reason unbeknownst to me, and this resulted in the cat running away from me when ever I approached him. As you can see from the photo, I have horribly mutated hands and feet, beady black eyes, and was only wearing my underwear and a hooded sweatshirt and I ran down the street (apparently the cat can hop 8 foot fences..) chasing after him. This picture may also offer insight into why the cat is trying to escape into the outdoors.. it would seem as though he could actually be a raccoon.


And now I take some advil

I woke-up in my living room on the couch in nothing but my underwear. I was freezing and confused. I went to bed last night wearing a shirt with a picture of a bass jumping out of water and I am not exactly sure when I made the journey from my warm bed to the cold couch, or when exactly I decided to take off my shirt.
It took me a little while to rub the sleep from my eyes and come to my senses.
After several minutes of looking, my shirt turned up in the bottom of my shower soaking wet. Evidently I had been in such a rush to shower that I did not even bother to take off my clothes.. Which may have been for the best, otherwise I might have woken up naked on the couch in the living room.
My computer revealed a message from my brother inquiring as to why I felt the need to call him in the middle of the night to see how my dog was doing. When I closed the message window, my essay magically appeared. To my relief, I had not in attempted to edit it, or write page after page of incoherent babble. I did, however, find one new sentence at the bottom of the page.
"Cinderella is a giant asshole." it declared in bolded letters. I am not going to lie to you, as I sat there, staring at the screen, I considered using it as part of my thesis statement.


Sad but true

I still have to sing the alphabet to myself every time I need to alphabetically reference something past the letter 'p'. Seriously... I sing it to myself starting with the letter 'q'.
My goal is to one day work past this.