Lydia Aswolf

Nothing much happened; Suzanne and I did not sword fight in full armor at the chocolate fountain, for instance. That said, I went to visit the restroom, and when I turned on the hot water to wash my hands, I realized a very pertinant truth about Texas…they say everything is bigger here, I say everything is hotter, depending on where you are.

If you happen to visit a restroom in Texas, keep in mind extremes…in other words, it’s going to either be the coldest your hands have ever been, or so hot, you do what I did yesterday….you don’t yelp, or shriek, or scream when boiling hot water hits your hands, which I had fully plunged into the water, because you are not a pussy.

No, you whip your hands out as fast as possible, thus flinging said boiling water onto your undefended, startled, and disapproving crotch, which is clad in thin khaki shorts.

Then you do an entertaining (my fourth son was rolling) dance while your crotch registers it’s disapproval, wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you will be foregoing hedge trimming, so to speak, for the rest of your life.

After recovering, you walk out the door, chagrined and grateful you, your hands, and your crotch made it out relatively unscathed.

Sure, you look like you pissed yourself, but I’m so used to doing shit like this, it failed to really get to me.

Moral of the story is, watch yourself if you visit Texas. From shivering uncontrollably in the sub-zero temps the stores here sport knowing that summer is coming and it’ll be as hot as some bathrooms keep their water, to doing the my naughty bits are burning dance, there is only one thing that’s guaranteed.

Your visit to Texas, no matter when, how, or where you take it?

It’s going to be memorable!

Just a quick blurb here, as things have settled down and I’ve more time to blog…though I must warn you, a book is cooking in the back of my brain, lol.

Suzanne and I decided to get our nails done, week before last. We headed over to a place she knows, and then were immediately separated across the great divide while our nail techs chatted with one another. Not being known for restraint, I looked over the wide expanse and began shouting at Suzanne, who by description alone is a beauty, and a quiet, demure one at that. She grinned, as she knows me all too well, and then semi-shouted back….which made for some entertaining looks passed around the nail shop.

We lost contact at some point; or maybe it was just that the tech I was working with nicked my hand and I forgot to scream something amusing at Suzanne. I shut up for awhile; I confess I should have looked at Suzanne, but I was busily ensuring I still had five fingers on each hand at that point.

Per virtue of what was being done to each of our hands, Suzanne finished before me, so when I finally made it over to her, she waited while I let my lovely greenish blue nails dry (I don’t do red or pink, thank you very much). She asked if I’d be interested in a smoothie, and as I’ve plumped up again, I said “Hell yeah!”

Off we went, walking towards the smoothie shop located a few doors down. When we arrived and perused the offerings on the board, Suzanne and I weighed the pro’s and con’s of each flavor. The high point of our perusal was when I pointed out the price of the small, large, and medium, and Suzanne gasped. I mean a theatrical, holy shit gasp. I enjoyed it, and despite the prices, we moved slowly up to the counter, still deciding what to go for.

As we reached the cash register, I noted gravely that Suzanne had moved closer to the register, and so strategically moved a foot into position to leap in front of her before the wench threw her debit card in front of mine, thus paying for both our smoothies.

We made our selection, and I thanked the Lord that my keen observational skills had granted me the ability to, plump or not, make a leap forward ahead of Suzanne. I suppose it should be noted that Suzanne is tiny; perhaps she just acknowledged the fact that my body crashing into hers would probably prove fatal. It’s immaterial, really. The result was that I paid for the smoothies while we had a mini-fight about who got to pay, which was pretty immaterial as I already had.

While the incessant grinding of our key lime smoothies assaulted our ear drums, I starting shouting at Suzanne again. I opined in loud tones that this would be the perfect time for me to start screaming at the top of my lungs that fisting had been great the former night, but that it was affecting my hemorrhoids adversely. The effect on Suzanne was immediate and very gratifying; she doubled over with laughter while the shop owner turned and looked at us curiously.

The shop owner hadn’t heard a thing.

Suzanne and I are on for a trip to Walgreens this week. I don’t know what will happen, but I do know after our last adventure at Walgreens buried somewhere in the archives of this blog, it should be memorable.

I anticipate a fight at some point; one in which a stunned cashier, waitress, nail tech, or some other purveyor of goods watches in dismay and a fair amount of disbelief as Suzanne and I jostle for better position, throwing our debit cards at the poor person who must gauge which one to use. We have employed this before, and the only thing that worked in my favor was that we happened to be eating at Olive Garden.

As we dueled with debit cards while the stunned server looked on, unsure of who’s to take, I won the day by promising a better tip than Suzanne would have given. I’m not sure that ploy will work again, but I’m quite looking forward to how Suzanne tops it…IF she can, lol!

Thus the challenge is issued; and thus my blog readers can rejoice that Suzanne and I are now in very close proximity; because I do things in her presence that shouldn’t be done, say things that shouldn’t be said, and laugh uproariously the whole time. I hope you will enjoy the SNL Chronicles; I know I sure will!

She turned.

Turned again.

Stared, in shock.

Confusion.

Panic.

Someone had taken her children.

She could see them retreating as she began to move.

Slowly at first, but gaining speed.

Her children’s lives depended on what she did now.

She would not let what felt like a lifetime of care mean nothing.

She ran.

Formulated a plan of attack should she catch up.

As she drew nearer to the stranger, she gulped.

She could not see her children, but she saw the stranger clearly.

This huge, ugly stranger.

What could such a creature want with her children?

It mattered not; she would find a way past..

The stranger turned around then, saw her.

Stopped for a moment.

She felt a spark of hope.

Then the stranger began to move again.

But she had the high ground now.

She would reach the stranger.

Her confidence was rewarded.

She caught up to the stranger.

Who looked down on her, bewildered and a bit afraid.

Unsure of what to do or how to act.

She didn’t think.

She acted.

Closing the distance between them rapidly.

Not stopping.

Never stopping.

Even when the stranger moved backwards impossibly fast.

She caught up again.

Struck out blindly.

Biting, hitting, anything.

Anything at all.

To see her children again.

To know they were safe.

But this stranger would not yield.

Would not let her see what she needed to see.

What she must see.

Even if she had to lay down her life.

It would be worth it.

If only her children were safe and sound.

Such a thing was worth losing a life over.

But this stranger would not yield.

Brushed her aside as if she were nothing, time and time again.

She kept on the offensive.

Kept going back.

Spitting.

Biting.

Clawing.

All ineffectual.

The stranger had been afraid before.

The stranger was not afraid now.

The stranger was becoming weary of the fight.

An opening presented itself.

She took it.

Before she died.

She saw her children.

In the egg sac she had tended for so long.

Scattered all over the floor.

Dead as she soon would be.

It was fitting.

Perhaps she thought this as the stranger stepped on her, ending her life in one moment.

Perhaps not.

We cannot know what a wolf spider thinks.

When it protects it’s young.

But the stranger who took the wolf spiders offspring.

Who killed them.

Who killed the wolf spider.

Did so for the sake of her own offspring.

Perhaps she could have found another way.

Perhaps she should have.

But she had learned no other way.

Than to fight.

To kill, if necessary.

For her offspring.

She was human of course.

But as you can see.

Human isn’t necessarily better.

Sometimes being human.

Means being equal.

Both statements in title are 100% true…and that’s all I have to say about that.

Working with clients, because as we ALL know, particularly in these troubled times…the show must go on, mouths to feed, bills to pay, and life must be lived, not on your terms, but on any terms life is willing to give you.

Besides, in MY line of work, casting your mind into other’s situations and focusing on their issues with all your might and mind is preferable to being in your own mind…not that this means I’m running or have not come to terms with my losses and gains, because in my experience,  the better you keep track of each, the less of one you suffer and the more of the other you gain.

Living near Suzanne will make radio show a tentative reality again, but taking things slow to see how that goes. Will do my bestest (horrific grammar, no?) to post more blogs, because the other plus in being near Suzanne means countless possibilities for personal humiliation and the inevitable hilarious results. I can get into trouble anywhere; with Suzanne it’s more memorable, and vastly more entertaining for everyone involved.

Until next time…