Getting to Knooww Meeee… (Alphabitch, Day 2)

Today marks the official start of NaNoWriMo and my wise husband has warned me not to try to boil the ocean.  “Just write a post each week, babe.  Something manageable.”  I know he’s right, BUT DOES THIS MAN NOT KNOW ME??!  When I get an idea I don’t just run with it, I hoist it over my head and head for the hills!  Some live their lives at a comfortable simmer, frequently I’m more like a full steam roiling boil.  When I read that New York Times article yesterday I was like, “Oh. Okay.”  But then the pot started to simmer, and it got me thinking of so many other things I’d done before.  Like moving to Maine, or writing a cookbook, or having a baby, or trying out for roller derby when I’ve got a chronic disease that gives me vertigo.  I don’t pretend to understand the way my mind works, I’m just a captive under its spell.

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I was born in Ann Arbor.

I was born in Ann Arbor.  My Texan momma assures me the winters there were bitterly cold, but my only memory of Michigan is of a lake in the summer.  Sitting on a blanket on the beach, I was startled by a daddy-long-legs.  My father gently picked it up and held it out to me, telling me not to be afraid.  I could see how tame the spider was, crawling up and down his arm, and so I asked to hold it too.  My husband told me years ago that daddy-long-legs are the most poisonous of spiders, but their jaws are simply too weak or too small to pierce human flesh.  I’ve never verified that fact, but I like to think of it whenever I see one.

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