Wanted: One good-looking spider slayer

There is a spider in my car, and it refuses to leave. 

Angela and I discovered the nasty, eight-legged friend on our way to an Estate Sale. As we discussed our bargain purchases and the gorgeous weather and wedding dresses, he scurried his way across the dashboard. We welcomed him into our conversation with wide eyes and screeches and threats of squashing him with a tissue if we ever mustered up the courage. Neither of us has ever done well with creepy crawly things. But seriously, it was huge--at least the size of a small child. I barely managed to pull my car into a nearby parking lot. We both bolted out of the car and tried to smash our unwelcome guest, but he disappeared into the vent. Dang it. 

I thought maybe he would leave on his own. After all, my Mom always used to say, "They are more scared of you than you are of them." Doubt it. After a day without spider sightings, I convinced myself to chill out. He was gone.

Too bad he reappeared during my solo trip to Indiana for the weekend! When I was 5 miles away from my exit, he tiptoed past my arm and to the edge of my seat. I nearly swerved my car off the road as I traveled down I-69. Now that I think of it, that would have been a foolish and embarrassing way to leave this earth. Girl Crashes Car After Being Startled By Insect. What a loser. 

I raced my way to the exit, pitifully swatting at the creature with my rubber flip flop, praying that he wouldn't crawl onto my leg. As soon as I reached the ramp, I looked for the nearest gas station. I pulled in, threw my car into park, and jumped out of the car. I probably looked ridiculous to everyone at the gas station, wearing one flip flop, holding the other above my head, and poking at the driver's seat with an umbrella I found in the trunk. I never did squish him. He got away, again. 

Although I'd like to believe that he stumbled his way out of my Saturn and has found a new home in the Hoosier state, I have this horrible feeling that he is waiting to surprise me one more time. At times like this, I wish I had a boyfriend, if for no other reason than to have my own personal bug slayer. Gross!

Just say no

to junk food. 

My dad and I (and his workout buddy, who I've never met) are beginning a junk food fast today. For 30 days we'll be on a six-one rotation. Monday-Saturday: no sweets or fatty snacks. This includes cake, ice cream, chocolate, chips, cookies, pop, nachos...you get it. Sunday: free day. But the goal on this day is to "reward ourselves," not to binge and put ourselves into a calorie-coma.

This will be really great for me. I've been working out a ton since I got home from school, but I feel like my sweat is wasted when I devour a cookie or bowl of ice cream. My goal isn't really to lose weight, but to tone up and start feeling good about myself again. Yes, this will be a good challenge.

Interested in joining?

If not, then just wish me luck!

Heather Houdini

     A few days ago, my little sister had a friend over to the house. After they listened to Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers for a good hour (because that's what 6th grade girls do), they wandered into the attic to search for treasure. What they found was a large, snap-plastic box filled with my awkward years. The box was stuffed with rabbit figurines and a black top hat and magic rings and a handkerchief that changes colors and dice and cards and a fake rat. Those were the magic years. 

     They played with all of my old gadgets for hours. I showed them how to unlink the silver rings and how to make the handkerchief disappear. Most of the tricks I forgot how to do, though. When the big moment came, my slightly-rusty slight of hand would produce soured faces and, "Duh, Heather. We aren't stupid." instead of "Oohs" and "Aaahs." I found myself getting defensive and reminding them that I packed up that box a long time ago, and that I used to fool people all the time.

     I vividly remember the 5th grade. I was convinced that I was going to be the next David Copperfield or Harry Houdini or whatever that other guy's name is. I made signs, advertising my magical abilities and how much I would charge for special appearances. But I never did persuade my mom to let me hang them up on Food Town's bulletin board. I made contracts, and kept them in a folder, just in case I got a call from a customer. I was going to perform at birthday parties and be famous and sign a lot of autographs. I'd probably be on TV, too. I was created to be a magician.

      Looking back, it makes me realize two things. First, I was a really big nerd. And second, I knew how to hold on to dreams.

     These days, I don't dream about being a world-famous magician. Instead, I think about being a writer. About traveling. About working as a missionary. About learning another language. About getting published. 

     Sometimes I doubt myself, though. I fear that my ability isn't great enough. I fear that my drive isn't strong enough. I fear that no one will ever want to read 200 or more pages of my thoughts. But fear is normal, I think. Whenever I have been fearful of something, it's because it's important to me. Job interviews, relationship talks, first dates, final portfolios. 

     So, maybe I should keep dreaming big and not shy away from this writing thing, not shy away from the discipline that stretches me and makes me feel alive and makes creative juices swirl around in my head. Maybe I wasn't created to be Heather Houdini after all. (Thank goodness!) Maybe I was made to write. Maybe that is a dream worth holding on to.