Hornet in the House!

You know about my mother's phobia of all things reptilian, here's mine: spheksophobia. I'll give you a moment to look that up...[Jeopardy theme song plays]...okay, done?

So the landscaper comes over Friday night and as we go down the front steps I notice something suspicious looking on the soffit - right by the front door.
"What is that?!", knowing full well what it was.
He replies, "You don't want to know. But maybe it's empty."

Now that's a bit like telling a woman in labor her contraction is almost over - she knows better.

Of course it was the beginning of a hornet's nest. I berate myself for not listening to my little inner voice and calling the bug man sooner. Ugh. And I have to go back in the house right past it! Double holy mother of pearl ugh.

Saturday, after fortifying myself with a german chocolate cupcake from A Southern Season (delicious by the way), I buy a can of 25% more, newer spray from Harris Teeter (because you cannot have enough of this) and head across the street to ask my neighbor if she's willing to do the deed since the bug man can't come until...MONDAY!!! It could be the size of a football field by then!!

Thank god she was willing to come over and save me. One hornet dies at the scene, another one flies off, which creeps me out. But I put it out of my mind and head off to Duke Chapel with friends for the "Sparks of Divinity" concert by the Women's Voices Choir. Beautiful setting and a great concert.

Back at home, I'm puttering around in my jammies, when I spy something on the living room floor. I move in to investigate.

HOLY CRAP.
It's.
A.
HORNET!

In my house.

(I actually have goosebumps remembering). HOW DID IT GET IN HERE?! HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN IN HERE?! Okay, don't panic - wait, TOO LATE!!
The cats are nonchalant, so maybe it's dead. Oscar helps me by swiping it with his paw as he walks past. Thanks Oscar! It rears up in this crazy ninja hornet move. NOOOOOO!!!

omgomgomgomgomgomgomgbucketneedabucket.
Find a bucket, gather some reserve of courage and throw the bucket over the hornet. Finn comes over to investigate...NO FINN DON'T TOUCH IT!! Don't move the bucket. (I'm hissing now. Can hornets hear?) Good kitty. Where's that piece of cardboard? Summon even more courage and slide cardboard under bucket. Part of one of its legs is poking out, which really interested Finn. Noooo...(dissolve into sobbing).
Now carry it outside, put it on the deck and run back inside. Obsess for several hours over how it got in (did it come in on ME?!), how long it's been in here, and if there are more. Freak out when two of the cats become very interested in the bottom of the floor lamp, but it was only a spider. I can deal with spiders.

I had the heebie-jeebies for hours. A piece of my hair fell out of the headband when I was washing my face and I screamed and jumped about a foot off the ground. I hate this part of spring in North Carolina.

And hell yes, the bucket is still on the deck.

Geckos, Lizards and Snakes - Oh My!

As far back as I can remember, my mother has abhorred anything reptilian. The only good reptile is a belt...or purse...or shoe. Turtles, alligators, iguanas, all on the major ick list. But there's a special place in hell reserved for snakes.

When she was young, she spent summers out in the J'ville boonies with her two maiden aunts and their brother.



Her dog was acting crazy one day, trying to stop her from going to the outhouse, finally resorted to knocking her down, and there, curled up ready to strike in the tree root she was about to step over, was a rattler. Fair enough on the fear factor.

There were National Geographic magazines she never read because there was a snake on the cover. If anything snakey came on TV, which was often, because my dad loved him some Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, Mom would pick her feet up off the floor, accompanied by a little scream. We're talking snakes period, not just rattlers, because even plain old garter snakes were evil and capable of climbing out of the television into our living room.


When we lived in Guam, my father was at sea for months at a time and I got to wear the coveted (not) mantle of designated gecko killer (first born short straw again!). For those of you uninitiated with geckos,
they don't just sell car insurance, they can crawl on the ceiling and are very, very fast. So I'm seven, standing on really tall ladders trying to kill something I secretly think is cool, while my mother hysterically points out each new hiding place of the soon to be [she hopes] doomed gecko. By the time I drag the ladder over there, it's moved. And my mother's voice has gone up an octave. Good times.

Because I was a kindly child, I tried to free my mom from the bondage of her phobia by helpfully bringing in objects of her fear - to show her they were really fun and neat!
From the banana tree next to the carport, came an anole lizard

that was tethered to me by a piece of thread (totally safe for viewing). Let me just say it was a good thing I was a fast mover back then (like a gecko), as my father, who happened to be in port, did not find any redemptive value in my actions, if you catch my drift. I'm sure Mom needed an Atavan or five (or whatever the 1960's equivalent was) after that therapy episode.

Then, while visiting the very relatives in FL where she almost was snake bit, I, loving, caring child that I am, bring a snake SKIN into the house. Not anything living mind you - I learned that lesson. It was winter and cold outside (for Florida), the kitchen was very warm from delicious cooking activities, and when I walk into the house, my glasses fogged up. Hilarity of the Keystone Kop variety then ensued - a horde of stampeding screaming women out to kill me as I tried to find the back door in a house I was unfamiliar with while basically blind.
Note to self - even though entirely devoid of snake, snake skins are b.a.d. unless they are articles of wearing apparel.

Fast forward to present day. Imagine my surprise when J., the activities director at Wynwood, said Mom had held a snake. But not some run of the mill tiny ole garter snake either. A boa. And not just held it either - had her picture taken with it draped around her neck. Wish I had the picture.

Finally discovered the up side of dementia - curing phobias!