The Gift

I went to my cousin's wedding in Cincinnati over the weekend. It was a great occasion, I was able to reconnect with a number of cousins, and Mark stayed back with the kids for the weekend (he did a great job, and the kids were perfect, of course).

At the reception, we were all a bit surprised to see my Uncle Tim show up. Uncle Tim is my Mom's oldest brother (she's #3 of 6 kids). Some time in the late 1960's Uncle Tim went out West for a few months, and according to him, "got into some bad Peyote" and has never been the same since. Prior to his Western sojourn, he was, by all accounts, a brilliant young man, Phi Beta Kappa at college, a fun loving, inventive type. Now he's the poster child in our family for why you shouldn't do drugs; a reclusive, paranoid man, who spends most of his days writing (who knows what) and analyzing the news for signs of the Third World War/end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it.

When I was eight, Uncle Tim gave me a pocket knife. Sitting in my grandma's living room, he explained to me that my Dad and I were the only "survivors" in the family. This pocket knife would be a valuable tool for me when the world came to an end. Ooooooookaaaaayy.

Interesting conversation to have with your 8 year old niece.

Flash forward almost 30 years. As I said, we were all surprised to see him at the reception, but pleasantly so. After all, family is family (the good the bad and the ugly) and it's good to know that he's still doing well, walking, talking, retired from the Gas Station where he worked and in reasonably good health. He talked with my Dad at great length about US military capabilities, strengths and weaknesses, the build-up of the Russian army, and various other things. He and I got to talking about cameras and photography. He was carrying around a tripod, and two cameras, an old 35mm Minolta that was missing it's external flash and a little pocket camera. We got to talking about the tripod, and I mentioned that I'd like to get one someday.

A little while later he came back to me with the tripod. He wanted to give it to me, saying that he'd never really given me anything (except that pocketknife) so he'd really like me to have it. I declined politely, but he was insistent. After several rounds of discussion, I acquiesce, and accept the gift of the tripod.

Sunday night I return to Raleigh, and toss my suitcase on the bathroom floor. Ever the procrastinator (when it comes to unpacking) I take out a few necessities, put the tripod on the floor next to it, and leave the rest until sometime on Tuesday when I finally empty the remaining items and then putting the suitcase back in our closet.

Last night (Tuesday night) I planned to go to bed early and get a good night's rest. As I am getting ready for bed in the bathroom, I notice a bug crawling across the floor. No big deal, bugs are an occasional part of life especially here in NC, and I promptly squish it. Insects don't generally bother me. Spiders don't bother me (well, except for the black widows that took up residence in our house last summer). At first, I'd assumed it was an ant, as we frequently find strays inside during the summer months, but they're most often in the kitchen, so I was a little confused.

Then I see another, and another, and another. Upon closer examination, each one bears a striking resemblance to a roach. In miniature.

Baby Roaches.

After I find and kill about a dozen, I decided to bring in some reinforcements. Dragging Mark up from working out in the basement, he started laughing at my frantic attempts to search out and squash bugs.

I was not amused by his amusement.

Not only do I find them on the tile floor, but now find a few more in the closet (that's what I get for putting the suitcase away). I haul in the vacuum cleaner, and start tossing shoes around the closet and vacuum every inch. I take out all the luggage and put it into the garage (along with the tripod, which in hindsight, I probably should have put outside in the trash can). Mark is still laughing at me and wondering if a slight roach problem might actually be worthwhile if it charges me to clean with this new found vigor.

Not yet satisfied, I venture out to the local grocery store for some insecticide. At 11:30pm on a Tuesday night - I'm thankful we have a 24 hour store close by. One of the stock men noticed me in the insecticide aisle, and laughingly commented that "things must not be good at my house if I'm looking at bug killers this late on a Tuesday night." Gee, ya think?

At the store, there is a BOGO offer on four different varieties of Raid Roach Killer. All FOUR types are SOLD OUT. What is the likelihood that they are completely sold out of all the toxic lethal stuff I was looking for? Of all the luck. I settled on some "natural" brand, some blend of rosemary, cinnamon, and wintergreen oils, safe for use around babies and pets. It was the only thing left. Once home, I sprayed down the bathroom and closet, found one more critter, which to my sheer delight, died instantly when I sprayed it with the natural stuff.

Thank God it worked.

The first call I made this morning was to the exterminator. They are coming tomorrow, unfortunately none of their technicians were in our area today.

Today, a note was sent home from school today stating that several students were found with active lice infestations. As if an onslaught of baby roaches wasn't enough.