Alrighty, so I thought I'd post a little something about myself for a change. I mean I know I always post about myself in a way, but I don't really post about who I really am.
I have noticed that most of my posts tend to center around what I am making artistically, and that's it. As this is an art blog, I thought that content to be most appropriate. But then after taking
Kelly Rae's Flying Lessons, I am learning that I need to put ALL of me out there for you all to see. You know, so we get to know one another, and connect better right?
Well here is a little story I am sharing with you about a phobia of mine. If you are going to get to know me, you may as well know the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Now, some of you may recognize this post from my first blog, which was actually non art related. That's right. I had another blog. It became pretty popular too. I even got a little award. But then the pressure to create a post all the time for my "public" got to me, and I gave it all up when I found art again.
Originally I wanted to keep the pressure off, and keep this blog mainly about art, but I realize this might make things a tad stale. I'm thinking there isn't much personality to it. And I'd thought I spruce things up a bit.
So here you go, a glimpse into my neurotic side...
This is a little story about ticks. Just to give you some background here, I hate them. With all my heart. They gross me out and scare me silly. In short, I have a HUGE phobia of them.
Now, this little phobia of mine has become quite dangerous and is very likely to get me into trouble sometime. Let me give you an example of what I mean.
Last summer I was driving to the grocery store. Earlier that day, I had been on a hike, and as it was getting cool out, I had put on a black sweatshirt (the color is important here).
About halfway to the store, I am stopped at a stop sign and notice something moving on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
As I start driving again, I simultaneously
inspect my sleeve. Big mistake! It was a tick. Just one lone tick, making it's way down my arm, along my black sweatshirt.
Black.
Ticks are also black.
Do you know what went through my mind after I finished screaming? Yes I did scream. Loudly.
I kept thinking how many other ticks were on me, that I couldn't see because they blended into my black sweatshirt. Not only that, but where did the first tick come from? My neck? My hair? My shirt? My pants?
The possibilities were endless.
I was positively freaking out. Shudders, screams, much flailing of the arms, hyperventilating, and rising panic all ensued, at the thought of the possible hordes of ticks dispersed along my body.
And all this was happening while I driving on a two lane, windy, mountain road.
As I tried to brush the phantom ticks off me, I would swerve into the oncoming traffic, but luckily pull out, just before a car sped past.
Sensing imminent danger. I hastily spun my car around, and sped home as fast as I could. Once there, I ran into the house, shedding clothes along the way, and jumped into the shower.
After a good, thorough scrubbing and inspection, I was convinced that it was safe to leave the confines of the shower, and put clean clothes on. I never went back to the store that night, as I was sure my car was positively infested with those bloodsuckers.
All that commotion for ONE tick.
And that? Wasn't the worst episode. Allow me to share just what happened on the night of the scariest tick moment of my life.
The scariest tick moment of my life happened when my husband and I were very first dating.
Since we were a new couple, we did wild and crazy things, such as staying up late on weeknights, eating junk food, and go for late night bike rides and hikes.
As usual, one night after work, I made my way over to his place for dinner. It was pretty late, since those were the days when I worked until almost nine every night.
Sometime after dinner, we decided it would be fun to go on a late night hike. There was a nice hiking mountain right near his house, so we drove up there.
Technically, I don't think you are supposed to hike there at night. Especially at 11 pm, but what the heck. Rules were made to be broken right?
The view was spectacular.
The weather comfortable.
The trails, thin and grassy.
Grassy. Tall grass to be precise.
That should have been my first clue. Long grassy weeds in the hills? Tick city.
Just so you know, I have been on hundreds of hikes, in all kinds of terrain, and I have never once picked up a tick. Never. Ticks were the absolute furthest thing from my mind.
Our walk was lovely, but was stopped short when I felt something crawling up my leg. As I bent down to brush it off, I noticed it was a tick.
Trying to be cool, in front of my relatively new boyfriend, I tried to minimize my panic and flailing arms as I furiously checked myself for more.
When I noticed yet another one, all hell broke loose.
Obviously, I didn't mean to shriek so loudly. But, I just couldn't help it. I flew towards the car, and started a massive inspection.
My boyfriend somewhat alarmed by my loss of composure/coolness, followed at a more sedate pace.
The more we inspected me, the more ticks we found.
Clothes started flying off of at a rapid pace. Ticks were hiding in every nook and cranny. Apparently they like armpits.
Soon I was .... well naked. As in buck.
I was still furiously inspecting my body, when I noticed the bright police lights shining in my direction.
Oh dear god.
I flew into the car, but was too scared of my clothes, to cover myself up, so I just huddled with my arms crossed over me, as best I could in the front seat, with the cop light beaming into the car at about a million watts.
I can only imagine what our little scenario looked like. A young couple in the mountains late at night, near a parked car, the woman completely naked. The only odd part would be the fact that my boyfriend was fully clothed, and we were standing
outside the car.
At any rate, he managed to talk to the cop and convince him nothing untoward was going on. In exchange for not getting written up for trespassing, and or indecent exposure, we were told to leave. Which we gladly did.
We drove the short distance home, but I was still huddled in the front seat without a stitch of clothes on, as we made our way down the city streets and stopped at
all red lights.
Back at his house, I ran from the car to the bathroom at top speeds, lest his roommate, and or a passing neighbor saw my nekked self.
Another furiously long shower, and I was deemed to be tick free.
That was almost 3 years ago, and despite the episode last summer, I am actually getting better now, that I live among the little buggers on a daily basis.
Just the other day, I found one, lodged in my jugular.
I really feel like I'm improving.
After all, I only screamed once, and hyperventilated maybe twice ...
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