I could NEVER be pope. Whether you get voted in, assigned, annointed, appointed, whatever, I'm still not a viable candidate.
With that gross understatement being said, let me elaborate. Did you happen to catch the video snippet from last week where the Pope was making a speech on some world-wide stage and a large, black spider was taking a tour of his papal robes? If not, click on today's posting title to view.
It was like watching a horror movie. It was enough to make me squirm and shriek, and do everything I could from swatting at my own neck and ears. The spider made his way from right to left and then back over to the right again. He wandered from the front to the back, and then had the disrepectful audacity to make his way up the Pope's neck and right ear!!!! I felt horribly creeped out as I watched it touch his skin, and then tried to make note of the people in the background to see if they noticed it as well. I wondered if anyone would actually swat the spider off his Holy Eminence, but no one did. Can you imagine being that guy? SMACK! The Pope whips his head around as if to say "What the....Who do you think you are? I am the Pope! Nobody hits the Pope!" and you'd reply "you had a bug on you" at which point, you would be quickly whisked away by his security staff and escorted to an unpleasant place that exists far, far away.
For the most part, the Pope did not seem to be aware that this eight-legged critter was leisurely strolling about his shoulders and back. If he did, he sure didn't give any indication of it, because he just kept on speaking in a calm and collected manner. As I sat there and watched the video, I tried to imagine myself in that position and decided that it wouldn't have been pretty. The moment I noticed a large, black spider making it's way across my body and up my neck and onto my ear would have been a moment frozen in time and replayed on Youtube more than you could ever think possible.
It would probably begin with my eyes literally bulging out of my orbital sockets when the nerve endings connected with my brain and realized what in fact I was seeing and feeling. Then, the freaked-out flapping, hand-swatting, and body shaking would kick-in next. This, of course, would be happening simultaneously with me abruptly interrupting my speech with the most wicked, horrified screaming you can imagine along with interjected phrases like "Omigod....omigod....get it off me....get it off....ewwww......ewwww.....is it off.....get it off!!!!!"
People listening to me speak so prophetically and christianly, who didn't have binoculars and couldn't see me up close, would think that I was having some sort of Catholic stress-induced nervous breakdown on stage. All they would be able to see would be my contorted body frantically flailing my robes into the air and me desperately trying to get my little papal cape pulled up over my head. The hysteria would probably cause me to stumble around, bump into the podium, and fall off the stage. At that point, they would be quickly holding new elections for Pope.
What can I say? I do not like spiders. I don't care how itsy, bitsy or or out-of-my-world enormous they are. I don't do arachnids. To this day, I am unable to kill, touch, or remove a spider found inside my home. The first thing I do is call for the most available family member to come and dispose of it. It doesn't matter that I am only inches away from it and they are on another level of the house, doing something far more important. They have come to realize that what's truly important in our house is that I not freak out.
The spider in the photo above was found lurking about our shoe rack in the garage, which is near the house entrance (I have since moved all my shoes into the house for safety reasons). We arrived home one night from a football game, and as we approached the entry way, Cameron spotted it right away. "Holy sh*t" was all I could utter. My thought was for Ed to catch the spider so we could look at it up close and I could take pictures and send them to my four-year old nephew. As a mother of two boys, I have certainly done my share of collecting bugs, worms, and mice for them to watch and then let go. Although I am deathly afraid of spiders, I do enjoy watching them from a safe distance when glass and/or plastic walls separate us. Something about observing what terrifies you the most is a little bit empowering, I suppose. Not enough to make me ever want to touch one, however.
So, after Cameron and I quickly jumped behind Ed for protection, we scrambled to find our bug jar and butterfly nets for capture. The biggest fear, of course, was that this critter would escape into some crack and be left to roam the garage while I lay awake all night wondering if it had made its way into my car yet. Fortunately, Ed was able to maneuver it into the jar without losing or squishing it, or amputating any of its limbs.
For a day or two it sat in the jar, until I had the time (and nerve) to take photos of it. I dropped a penny and candy corn (very fresh candy corn, I might add) to help give others some perspective as to the size of this monster. I can't even imagine living somewhere like Arizona, or Mexico, or Australia where tarantulas are roaming the planet and probably regularly make their way into people's homes and garages. That would truly be the end of me and any chance I might have of running for Pope.
