At work the other day, the janitor opened the cleaning closet to pull out his mop bucket.

“Hey, come here! Look at this!” he hollered.

I trotted over.

OH.

GOSH.

This is the honkingest, hugest, monstrous-est wolf spider I have ever seen. I dropped my pen in the bucket for scale, and snapped a photo.

The creature scowled at me and lifted its hairy, meaty hooks in revenge.

I’ve seen a lot of spiders in my day. Garden spiders get this big. But THIS creature… what is it, a freak of gamma rays or something? The janitor and I both squealed in excited fright. I told him to get rid of it. With a look that said “Goodbye, dear friend,” he wheeled the bucket outside to kill the intruder.

“How it’d go? Did it make a loud *pop* when you squished it?” I maliciously cackled.

“I didn’t kill it,” he said. “I couldn’t. I dumped him over the loading dock three feet down. To a spider that must be like a mile drop?”

I said nothing. I just stared. YOU LET HIM GO?!?!? I mouthed slowly. YES, he mouthed back.

His own life was spared because at that moment, a customer walked in….

I forgot about the spider until yesterday. OH, that fateful day.

“Hey, come here! Look at this!” the janitor yelled.

Naively, I trotted over. I glanced at some large black thing scurrying across the floor.

NOOOOOO!!!!! “Get it, kill it!!!”

The spider, sensing my mood, scampered toward the safety of a large case. THE CASE WHERE I FREQUENTLY SORT MAIL.

In desperation, I kicked the monster with my foot away from my work area. If that critter was able to hide beneath all my boxes and stuff, no telling what he’d do when I was alone in the building. When I kicked the thing, I swear the spider growled at me. It lifted its two front talons and spun them at me. Oh, God.

I could see the headline now: Postal Worker Snuffed Out By Giant Spider in Strange Vengeful Attack… Spider seemed perfectly harmless to me, janitor says….

“Get him out of here!” I ordered the janitor.

A customer walked in (dang, what IS it with customers all of a sudden?! Don’t they know?!). I threw up my hands in exasperation.

“I’ll take care of it,” janitor says.

“You’d better,” I say.

After rushing the customer through the transaction, I hurry back to the scene to find the janitor lounging on his broom (he’s union).

“So, so?!” I say.

“I couldn’t do it, Rebecca. I couldn’t kill it. I threw him outside.”

Tears well up and I begin to sob. “My life is over,” I say.

Janitor pats my shoulder. “I’ll make sure the mail goes on,” he says.

I come home later, exhausted, and relay the story and the size of the creature to my kids. I show them my photo. “Look at the pen next to it,” I say.

I can’t get over how huge the spider was. Is. WAH!

“Oh, Mom,” they roll their eyes at me. “we’ve seen even bigger ones than that. There are a bunch of them living in the basement.”

I don’t swim, but lately, I certainly feel like one of those Olympiads. I’m racing across the pool and occasionally coming up to breathe. I see blurry outlines of the surrounding crowds and I hear their chatter, but I’m swimming, swimming, swimming.

I’m still working full time. Eventually, the job will go to part time — I’m sure you have heard of the “post plan” whereby small post offices will reduce their hours — while we’re waiting for that, I work 40 hours a week. The pay is good; it’s better and more reliable than the stay-at-home gig. But it consumes a lot of my time and energy. I come home tired and there are things to do here, too.

I still read your blogs; I don’t comment all that much because I do most of my Internet browsing on my phone, and typing comments is a blasted pain(and Google Blogger seems to frequently eat my comments). As a matter of fact, I’m using a phone app to create this post.

As much as I like my new job and the steady income, I find that time passes so much more quickly. And I must remember to come up to breathe, lest I sink!

I started up a few more websites, like this one. It was easy to monetize them. Advertisers found my contact information and asked if they could advertise on the sites. I was making pretty good money from 2009 to 2011. One year, I made almost $5,000 just by passive advertising in the blogs’ sidebars. I was shocked that I could make such money. I sought more opportunities to expand my new little business.

Blogging honed my writing skills. As a homeschooling mom who taught every grade of English and grammar four times a year for eight years, I learned a LOT about how to write well. And people seemed to really like my bubbly, quirky stories and commentary. Sometimes I wrote for the advertisers, sure, but it was always with my readers in mind. If I had to insert an advertisement or sponsored post — well, by golly — I was going to make it entertaining, at least. Advertisers loved me because I was so enthusiastic. I even won “Postie of the Month” at IZEA and $1,000 for a video the kids and I made. Reporters from TIME, iMedia, The Wall Street Journal, and The Associated Press called me for interviews about being a mom, being a successful mom blogger, and how to make money at home. I was invited to participate in media events in New York City, Indianapolis, San Francisco, and other places. I wasn’t making a ton of money (some mommy bloggers I know make $50,000 or more!), but I was feeding our large family and I was able to completely renovate the downstairs of my old house (including the pricey kitchen).

I was hired by several top-notch writing companies who syndicated my articles out to such illustrious venues as USAToday.com, Salon.com, AZCentral, and others. I worked diligently and improved my writing skills. I got good scores and was placed on the “elite” writers lists. I was in a whirlwind, it seemed.

Our vacations were practically paid for. In exchange for social networking and my blogging reviews, businesses like hotels, restaurants, and tourist attractions footed our bills. We had some pretty nice getaways and ate in some wonderful restaurants. It was a nice perk for a home-grown blogger. The kids loved the travels. But even though the vacations were “free,” they weren’t really vacations. I worked the entire time, snapping photos, interviewing hotel managers and meeting with restaurant chefs, thinking of how to create funny anecdotes, and researching the history of the places. I never got any breaks. I found that I couldn’t relax.

I reached my peak in 2010. By 2011, I was coasting on past successes. Blogging had changed rapidly in five years and the money opportunities slowed down. In 2012, two things hit hard: Google and extreme fatigue. Google was slamming websites that had sponsored posts and links. Advertisers shied away from sponsoring blogs and turned to advertising on Google’s pages. It became harder and harder to make more money every year to meet the rising cost of living. And my syndicated writing jobs became more difficult. The companies, suffering from Google’s Panda and Penguin updates, came down very hard on writers. They demanded more intricately researched content “from experts.” Before long, I was writing three to four 1,000 research papers a day, just to keep up. It took 2 hours to complete one article, and I also had a dozen blogs to maintain.

So I started to tire of the constant work. Blogging at home is hard, especially for obsessive, workaholic people like me. I found it very difficult to pull myself away from the computer, from the online world. The work was sucking an average of 15 hours a day if you count the research-article writing, blogging, social networking (on Twitter and Facebook), blog maintenance, and more. And THEN advertisers wanted me to join Pinterest, Instagram, Google+, and LinkedIn to give them more exposure. No. I couldn’t do it all. Besides, people were not commenting on my blogs so much anymore. Instead, they began using Facebook and Twitter. All blogs were suffering the same fate. Things were on the decline.

And the husband was grouchy. He didn’t like me sitting at the computer for hours every day. Worst of all was the income taxes. It took me about two weeks to scour through the paperwork, and it became incredibly stressful. Because we have older kids who are not in college and couldn’t take a gadzillion other deductions, we actually had to pay thousands in income taxes even though our combined gross income was under $40,000. It was because of the high self-employment taxes. As soon as December 31st rolled around, I began to dread April 15th.

But I HAD to work. The family had become reliant on my income and my husband’s employment was going through a shake-up. I had prayed several times and sought godly counsel in the past about getting an “outside” job, but the answer was always “no, not yet.” I waited. But now as things were reaching the breaking point, I took it to prayer and sought more counsel. “Yes,” was the answer.

I hit the sidewalks in November and applied for the job I thought I was supposed to take, a part-time position at a post office. The employer there told me the position had already been filled. I applied for other jobs in the area. One place was ready to hire me on the spot but I hesitated. The job itself looked great, but it was 25 miles away across country roads. And at some point the hours would drop from 8 hours to 2 hours! No, thanks.

I applied again at the first job. They told me the person who had originally filled the position had quit, but they had just interviewed another prospect and that the period for job applications had expired.

So I waited at home. I wasn’t making much money and was concerned how I was going to pay the bills. I could sit and write research papers all day, every day, but just the thought sent me into depression. During this time, a family crisis hit and I was needed to help support the family. For the entire month of December, I hardly wrote anything at all. I worked when I could on an online odd-job (selecting titles for articles). Miraculously, I earned enough to meet my bills AND a little extra to get through January.

I applied again at the job of my choice. They informed me that the applicant had not shown up for work, so the position was open. OH MY GOODNESS it was as if God had parted the Red Sea for me. I marched on through. I was hired! For three weeks, I trained and studied and trained and studied. Then they informed me that the job was going to be temporarily full-time before it went to full-time, was I interested?

Was I interested?!?!?!?!?!

But this post is already so lengthy! I’ll have the rest of the story in the next post.

I never thought about a kite that way! But I have certainly thought about human nature in this way.

have a good week, dear friends. I hope to pop back in again soon, if the laundry and jobs allow.

I’m thrilled this morning because I finally found something I can eat for breakfast. Since I’m on a raw food diet for a while to give my gallbladder a rest, it’s been a little difficult to find suitable foods to eat besides the usual salad and fresh fruit. Fruit digests very quickly, so no matter how many pears or bananas I eat, I find myself daydreaming about food an hour later. Actually, this alone is a mini-miracle. I was so sick for two weeks that the thought of food brought back nightmares of the excruciating pain. I existed on weak green tea or a green smoothie for breakfast and slowly worked myself into a half a pear or a banana. But when I had to travel and be away from home all day for my job training sessions, I became hungry.

Anyway, I experimented with soaking raw quinoa in almond milk. YUK! Maybe the milk was a little too old or quinoa is too pungent, but the stuff was awful. So in desperation I gave the almond milk another chance and threw some raw oats into the bowl. It was delicious! I added some strawberries and blueberries, and I was in foodie heaven.

I never thought I’d be so excited about food. Sheesh.

I also tried a few experiments with coffee, but nothing worked. Almond milk was too…. almondy. It has a sharp taste to it that doesn’t mix well with coffee. I also tried honey and agave nectar, which made it worse. I don’t like stevia, either. So I have resorted to drinking it black. It’s not too bad, and I’ll get used to it. I drink my tea black, and the heavy, musky taste is similar to that.

So now I have to micromanage my diet. Thank God for mobile phone apps! I can keep detailed track of every glass of water I drink, every scrap of food I eat, and my weight. I can’t lose weight too quickly, because that causes gallstones, too. Not that this is a big problem for me. I also read that hypothyroidism can cause gallstones. I’ll be seeing a gastroenterologist sometime, I hope. I’d like to get a scan and see where these stones are, how big they are, and etc. I’d like to make an informed decision. Can you believe that after all the hype amongst the doctors — they were going bananas telling me I needed emergency surgery to have the galbladder out NOW — no one has contacted me or anything, not even for a follow up? I thought this was serious, why isn’t anyone wanting to see me? I haven’t seen one physician yet. Huh.

If you’re hankering to know how I made my own almond milk, I’ll share my little secret. Instead of purchasing raw whole almonds and killing my blender, I buy them already ground up (Nuts.com). It’s a coarse almond flour. It’s much faster then processing my own nuts. And I prefer to make it myself because there are no chemicals like in the store-bought stuff.

Raw Almond Milk
1 c raw almond flour
4 c water
¼ c agave syrup
Pinch of sea salt
Up to a tsp of vanilla extract (start with less to your taste) (we didn’t have any so skipped this)

1. Combine the almond flour and the water and mix until the water is white.

2. Pour the whole thing into a cheese cloth or a nut bag and drain over a big bowl. You can help it along by squeezing the cloth.

3. Add the rest of the ingredients to your almond milk and enjoy like regular milk.

My daughter makes it for me. She’s been helping me out with a lot of stuff (she makes all the smoothies) and has been my nursemaid. Thank God for her.

Well now that I’ve got breakfast covered, I’ve got to come up with a few lunch/dinner solutions. I don’t miss red meat AT ALL, although once I craved a burger when I was feeling very hungry.

So that’s the latest excitement in my house, I figured out how to have solid food for breakfast. Yay me. I’ve lost about 12 pounds in 3 weeks. That’s not a whole lot, really. Even on 900 calories a day, my weight seems to have leveled off and I’m not losing anything anymore. Thus ends the only benefit to all this suffering, alack.

Here in New York State, doctors and specialists and optometrists and dentists are becoming scarcer. They don’t like the heavy regulation and they don’t like the onerous New York State health insurance/Medicaid system. I’ve had to switch doctors (especially dentists) more times than I can shake a stick at, because so many stop accepting state health insurance or they hightail it to another state. Like Texas.

Anyway, so doctors are kinda scarce. So that means that waiting lists are looooooooong. I almost always have to schedule my appointments a year or two in advance. YES! That’s a long time, and a heck of a lot of life can intervene in that amount of time.

For me, that happens just about every time.

I’ve been absolutely clobbered with work, school, and other activities since late August. I get up at 8:30 and work all day long until I collapse in bed around 1am. I have to carefully schedule my showers and bathroom breaks to check email and Facebook, otherwise I’d disappear from the Internet.

Well it just so happens that during this crazy burst of activity I ALSO have appointment after appointment after appointment. Not just for me, but for all the kids, too.

Why do I do this to myself?

Just in the past three weeks, we’ve had four dental appointments, four eye appointments, four return eye appointments to pick up glasses… I’ve also had to attend a few meetings and some chic new-fangled, high-falutin “webinars” for work which means I must sit at my desk with NO KIDS and NO ANIMALS making all their noises like kids and animals do.

I’m just amazing. I can accidentally schedule my life so that everything happens all at once!

Sorry this was so breathlessly written. IGottaGoNowKThxBai.

I’m also building a fireplace box/mantel for a gas fireplace we hope to get sometime. I don’t have any photos of that yet…

Since my online life has been terribly boring, with sparse updates on the remodeling projects, I’ll console you with a cute “Listicle” meme I came across. I’m a little late to the party, as the meme is for Mondays, but I can still have fun with it. Feel free to leave your own answers in the comments area.

10 WAYS YOU ARE THE SAME OR DIFFERENT THAN YOUR YOUNGER SELF

1. I like onions now. I no longer hate tomatoes and peppers.
I was a horribly picky eater as a kid, not a good trait when the family is always tight on grocery money and the step-dad is a maniac about eating everything before you. Oh, I used to get such awful spankings for refusing to eat my tomatoes! I still do not care for them but I will eat them.

2. I’m more educated.
I read a lot and study in my spare time. I believe I received a terrible education as a youngster. I had a great thirst for learning — I would read the dictionary and encyclopedias — but the curriculum was geared toward “social” sharing where students chatted in groups. I was terrible in social settings and it always seemed that the extroverts always got all the attention and learning. So when I graduated from school, and especially when I started homeschooling, I read everything I could and re-educated myself. I discovered that I love history and I could even do mathematics with some effort! Public schools are horribly cookie-cutter institutions, and I believe very few children learn well in such an environment.

3. I’m less shy and depressed.
I grew up in a few dysfunctional, abusive homes and suffered through severe bouts of depression as a teenager. I became a Christian and it was like the whole world opened up for me. I had peace of mind, peace in my soul, I was more assured, I was just so happy that Jesus loves me. I am now more able to open up and enjoy life.

4. I like computers.
As a kid, I was afraid of them. Now, I like them and even write technology articles. Ha!

5. I know how to build things.
When I was in school, girls were not allowed to take Shop Class. I SO SO SO wanted to. I was forced to take Home Ec, where they taught us useless things like how to put on makeup and how to sew a skirt. I wanted to learn how to build bookshelves and houses and how to fix cars. I learned how to build stuff after I bought my own home. I’m still clueless about cars, though….

6. I still like soft rock.
My husband played some music by Ambrosia the other day, and I LOVED it.

7. I’m still wordy.

8. I hate television and most movies.
As a kid, I was a FREAK about movies and TV. I had movies posters, screenplays, books and magazines on movies and TV shows, and my own little portable TV set. After I married, the husband and I decided we didn’t want the influence of TV on our kids. What a difference it has made in our lives. I tried to watch TV in the doctor’s office one time and was aghast at the slop spewing from it. While I’m sure there ARE some good shows on from time to time, it seems that most of the stuff is lewd, scornful, and idiotic. It’s a shame because the TV is such a wonderful device — it could be used to educate people about history, to inspire them. But most of the stuff simply seems a tool for social engineering and the coarsening or dumbing-down of society.

9. I still have a problem completing long lists…
Um, uh…

10. I like birds.
I didn’t care for birds much, before I learned about them. The only birds I saw were the pesky crows, bluejays and maybe some cardinals or sparrows. But after reading about the physiology of the bird and how intricate and perfectly designed they are, I grew to admire them. Even the crows. They are magnificent creatures.

Well, I made it! And now my work beckons again. Thanks for reading this far. Have a great week!

We used to get up early, right after dawn, and watch the morning mist roll off the furry caps of the hills. In the spring and summer, the hills were thick with bright green pines and red oaks and sugar maples. There is nothing like the smell of fresh pine resin dripping from weathered evergreen trunks while the wind blows through their needles with a loud whoosh. Nothing like it. In the summer, wild blueberries grew among the rusty pine needles on the forest floor. They were so sweet to pick and eat fresh off the bushes, the little berries bursting in our mouths with a delightful pop. I felt like little Heidi in Johanna Spyri’s book. It was beautiful, invigorating country.

In the autumn when temperatures dipped, the maples and oaks burst ablaze with reds and oranges and yellows. The pine trees stubbornly refused to change their stiff green clothes and stood soberly at attention among the fluffy, giddy leaf changers.

We’d sit out on the patio, watching the show, shivering with the cooler mountain air, cradling our steaming cups of coffee. Our favorite activity of the day was to watch the rising sun burn off the mountains’ morning mist. Luminous tendrils of the departing mist always curled around the fingers of the oak tree leaves before retreating back into the sky, like a mother reluctantly loosening her grip on her child’s hand. Sometimes the cloud would break into individual little tufts, boasting brightly of their newfound independence. But soon, they too disappeared with the burning sun.

In this region of southern New York State, it’s a little more temperate, so summer always tries to edge back after a time, elbowing autumn for a final hurrah. The trees would glisten with the shimmering heat, as if they were startled awake, roused from that semi-unconscious state before deep sleep comes.

But it was temporary. The Indian summer faked us out and it was just a matter of time before autumn came back more ferocious than ever. Strong winds would always rise up about this time in the season, as if autumn was angry that it had been kicked out of its proper domain. Its indignation was bittersweet, because while we loved the cooler, crisper air, the vigorous winds blew all the leaves off the trees and destroyed what was beautiful about autumn.

While I am OK with living in town and have done so for nearly 30 years, there are some things about town life to which I will never adapt. The smells of burnt toast and bacon rising from the neighbor’s home. The cacophony of motorcycles that cloud the streets with their noise pollution. Not being able to see the stars at night. The sound of a dozen lawn mowers on a Sunday morning.

And as I will soon enter the autumn of my own life, I am more eager to seek those little moments of tranquility and contemplation. I am less quick to jump to conclusions, less quick to busy my mind with a million tasks. I have peace with God. I am less likely to hustle and bustle about, and am more content to watch His wonderful works.

Autumn makes me want to walk through a wooded path and enjoy the wonders of creation. Just to rest. I think it’s time for a little vacation, don’t you? ;)

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus
Just to take Him at His word
Just to rest upon His promise
Just to know, Thus saith the Lord.

Jesus! Jesus! How I trust Thee
How I’ve proved Thee over and over
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus
Oh, for grace to trust Him more.

Yes, ’tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just from sin and self to cease;
Just from Jesus simply taking
Life and rest, and joy and peace.

I’m so glad I learned to trust Thee,
Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend;
And I know that Thou art with me,
Will be with me to the end.

Jesus! Jesus! How I trust Thee
How I’ve proved Thee over and over
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus
Oh, for grace to trust Him more.

After long hours writing articles all day, my brain is fried and the house is a disaster. I took most of the month of June off, working sporadically. Vacation is over. So in the evening when I need to come up with something here, I’m dry. Oh, I have a number of stories in my head, but I’m too pooped to post.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been guzzling my daughter’s high-octane coffee and staying up long past my bedtime….