My oldest, Allen, turned 30 last Saturday. He always celebrates his birthdays with fanfare and fun. This was his first big O birthday as an adult (nope, 20 ain't that), so this year's celebration was
bigger'n better than usual: spending time with grandparents followed by a four-day event in Austin.
As the mother, I was in a predicament as to a gift befitting the occasion. A symbolic gift. I was stumped. Ashley had found a perfect gift, surely I could, too.
We were packing up Elvis the Element to head to my parents' home in the Rio Grande Valley when the gift made its appearance--a big, brown, hairy desert tarantula. I scooped him up and put him in a plastic container with air holes punched in the top. Then I caught a small grasshopper and put it in the box with the confused tarantula, so he'd have something to do/eat on the 12-hour trip to
Harlingen.
The whole drive south I was so smug, congratulating myself on finding the perfect gift. And why would a pet tarantula be the perfect gift? Well, Allen works in Los Angeles at
Mojo Productions. He's a gifted screenwriter and his latest and most ambitious script is an original screenplay for a television pilot (that takes place in a ghost town in the desert, oddly enough) titled 'Tarantula.'
Wow, what an absolutely perfect idea for the perfect gift, right?
Well, apparently not.
When we got to my parents' house, they were horrified. A couple of hours later after Allen arrived at the airport and was presented with his perfect gift, he was horrified, too, only more so. I think his exact words (after he shrieked in horror) were: "Mom, you've always been a little crazy, but this is just too weird. You need to turn him loose
right now.
Immediately! He really freaks me out, and he wants to be--he
needs to be--with his own kind!" After he shuddered, he glared accusingly at me.
After much discussion, we decided to set Boris (Allen's name for him) free out on the King Ranch. We'd be driving through there on our way to Austin for the birthday festivities, and the huge, largely uninhabited ranch seems like a fine home for a tarantula. We'd even spotted other tarantulas there on past trips, so maybe Boris could join a tarantula village; are tarantulas social creatures? My ignorance on the subject, other than knowing what they eat, is truly limited.
Poor Boris had to stay outside while Allen, Mr. Wizard and I had a great time visiting with my parents. My mom is just about the best cook there is, and we enjoyed some fabulous meals, including my very favorite dish ever, sour cream enchiladas. When Allen was born and Mom and Dad came to visit their first grandchild (oh yeh, and his mother, the one who'd just given birth to a whopping nearly nine-pound man cub), I requested Mom's sour cream enchiladas. No flowers, no gifts, just the enchiladas. They are just too yummy (and fattening) for words.
Here's my Mom and Dad:
They've been married 56 years and they still like each other! Actually, theirs is one of those storybook romances that, even after nearly six decades, is still going strong. They travel a lot and I think every trip is another honeymoon for them. They have the best times and have some of the best friends (as well as children and grandchildren) ever.
I wish we didn't live 12 hours apart, but it's hard to move the Valley any closer to my desert (and vice versa). We had a wonderful, quiet (and fattening!) two days visiting them. I always cry a little when we hit the road again, and I have a feeling Mom does, too, just as soon as we're out of sight. We're emotional that way.
So we packed up Elvis again, including poor Boris, and headed north toward our next destination: Austin.
By the time we found a suitable 'home' for Boris I'd come to the conclusion that I must have had a lapse of sanity when I took this poor tarantula out of his familiar surroundings, even though I might have saved his life (the kitties sometimes play with tarantulas until they fall apart).
Anyway, I documented Boris' release into the wild thanks to my new camera (a nifty Canon Sure Shot that weighs practically nothing and is small enough to fit in my pocket, unlike my big, heavy Canon
EOS Rebel), and here are some of the photos:
Allen did the honors, setting Boris free to wander, live and hunt in the thousands of acres of semi-desert
ranchland.
Boris seemed happy enough as he scurried across the sandy firebreak, headed straight toward the grasses and cacti ... and freedom from crazy desert ladies. Is that a smile I see on his little hairy tarantula face?
Allen watched as his birthday present scurries away. (Is that a tear in his eye? I seriously doubt it, unless it was a tear of relief.)
And the first thing Allen said when he got back into the Element? "
Geez, Mom, I still can't believe you did that. I think the desert is making you crazy!"
Ha! Is it the desert, I wonder, or having children?
Some people are drawn to the Big Bend for stargazing. It's amazing how many stars seem within arm's reach here. On clear nights, it's difficult to not watch the sky.
Joe Rao at space.com wrote an excellent article about Monday night's planetary phenomenon. Click here for an interesting read.
