Stargazing (but not very well)

So meteor showers are truly awesome. I dare you to argue with that. They're spectacular, and seem dangerous and beautiful at the same time. Dangerous because it's orbiting material hurtling at a terrifying speed, lighting up the sky in its burning wake. Anyone else remember February 15, 2013?

But they're also beautiful. The stars in the great expanse of space that we can see on any given night are absolutely stunning. Though stars look like glistening specks in the sky, stargazing can really make you feel like just a little speck, but in a lovely way. They make you feel like a speck that has been given the privilege to witness the glory of the Lord and the power He expresses in His creation. A speck that can live in and see and experience what billions of other specks have lived in and seen and experienced. A speck that can look up at those stars and know that we have mastered the ability to travel in space, but the Master of the universe has power beyond that, which we cannot achieve.

And then on top of all of that, we get to see that already magnificent night scene perform a cosmic ballet, or jazz routine, or interpretive dance, or whatever you fancy. During these meteor showers, we become mere spectators of a galactic migration.

Let's see how many space words I can use in this post.

So I grew up seeing the occasional shooting star, as everyone does. But I remember the first real meteor shower that I watched. It was when I was in high school, and I was out in the country at a bonfire that my friend was having for his birthday one December. There weren't many of us there, just some of his close pals. And then we noticed that there were shooting stars flying through the sky overhead. It was like magic; we were all mesmerized. All of a sudden our bonfire was forgotten, and we all were just standing there, our heads tilted back, mouths open, only talking to exclaim, "I just saw another one!"

This is essentially the most nerdy and the most awesome I've ever felt at a birthday party.

The next experience I had with a meteor shower was in college. I had caught the meteor shower fever at that completely awesome birthday party, and I wasn't going to rest until I could see another meteor shower. Okay, that's not true; I rested like every single night. But that's neither here nor there, really. 

So one year in college, I stumbled across information telling when the next meteor shower would be. A group of girls that I lived with loaded up in the car and were on a mission: to find somewhere in town that was not lit up bright and that was simultaneously not scary. No easy feat when you're a complete scaredy cat. Also, the sky was just like really bright. So we ended up seeing about one meteor, which was a bummer. But I did get to spend time with some precious friends on a totally awesome adventure. They write about that kind of stuff in sappy novels that get turned into movie adaptations, you know. 

Our view of the lone meteor we saw from the parking lot in which we finally stopped to stargaze.

And over the years, I have been a very poor stargazer. I have either not been aware when a meteor shower has taken place, or it has been too cloudy or bright outside to view the meteor shower when I have actually tried to view a meteor shower. I don't know tons of crazy facts about meteors, and I don't have fancy stargazing equipment. I'm actually probably the worst meteor shower semi-enthusiast to ever exist. 

But recently I have been kind of longing to see another meteor shower. I few times this past year I would look up when the next one would be, but still haven't managed to make one. And then my desire to see another one was confirmed when one night in Tuscaloosa, when I was driving back to my apartment, a bright flash of light zoomed through the sky. It was so quick, but so bright , that I can only assume it was a meteor. That, or aliens. Probably aliens. No? Okay, whatever.

So when I heard that there was going to be a meteor shower on this night, the night spanning between May 23 and May 24, I knew that I had to try and see it. So I stood outside in the driveway of my family's home in the country tonight, straining my eyes for the tiniest flash of a star streaking across the sky. Nothing. It was still too early. My dad came outside for a bit, and looked with me, before going back inside (and kindly making sure the carport light was turned off for me to stargaze with more precision). It was just me and my dog, whose black fur blended into that darkness that the woods radiates at night, and probably some bugs and some bats (but I don't want to think about that part). And I just stood there, with my sweet dog stretched out at my feet while I looked up at the Alabama sky for way too long, even though it was still too early to actually see any meteors.

But let's be serious, a girl can only do that for so long. After a while of that, and seeing nothing but a very, very faint streak of light at one point (which was probably not a real meteor and was probably just the product of my wish to see a meteor), I went inside to prepare for bed. I took a shower and brushed my teeth, took out my contacts, and crawled into bed. I pulled out my laptop and looked up more information about the times that the meteor shower was supposed to peak, and what areas are the best areas for viewing the meteor shower. I started to write on this blog. And then at 1:04 am, I went to the window and opened the blinds, and tried really, really hard to see a shooting star.

I didn't see one. It was still a little early for it. But hey, a girl has got to sleep.

Spiders

Alright, I have had some truly terrifying spider adventures in my current apartment. My apartment complex is wonderful, and I have loved living here for the couple of years I have had a lease. Well, except for the fact that giant monster spiders sometimes find their way into my apartment.

My apartment is not nasty. I keep it clean and pretty well maintained. The apartment complex is a little older, but is nice and has received excellent maintenance. In fact, there is supposedly even a wait list for people to get into this apartment complex. So I'm not really sure where the spiders come from, but every couple of months I will find a giant wolf spider just casually sharing my living space, that are like the size of my palm. I can't figure out if it is because my apartment complex is near the woods and river, or through what space they are entering my apartment. It also does not happen too terribly often. However, it is still a terrible problem to have.

A semi-accurate depiction of the size of a regular spider as compared to the size of the spiders found in my apartment.

I really do not find them often, but when I do find one I panic. I truly don't handle it well. But throughout my experiences, I have learned how to be totally courageous. Brave. Valiant. 

One of the worst experiences I have had with one of these creatures happened late one night. I had arrived home after hanging out with some friends, and in the dim light I had turned on when entering my apartment, I could see a spot on the carpet in my hallway. I went to investigate, and discovered that it was in fact a giant spider. Probably the size of my palm. But no, not just a regular giant spider. A mommy giant wolf spider. 

That's right. She was covered in her own live young. Which meant I couldn't step on her, since then the millions and billions of baby spiders clinging to her body would spread out across my carpet like a tiny sea of terror. I decided to trap her under a bowl, slide a folder under it, and then throw the whole thing outside. Except that when I approached her to trap her, her mommy senses took note of the impending danger, and she tried to escape.

That's right. She was moving. Now the only thing more terrifying than a giant spider that is running is a giant spider that is hopping. And the only thing more terrifying than a hopping giant spider is a giant spider who spills piles of baby spiders on your carpet with each hop it makes.

That's right. Now I have baby spiders all over my hallway carpet, despite my brilliant plan. I slam the bowl on top of mommy spider and commence to handling the new situation. I squish every baby I see moving, which was like a billion of them. And then I pull out the vacuum, and vacuum my apartment for about 45 minutes. After the carpet was as clean as it was on the day in which it was installed, I devised my plan for mommy spider, who somehow still had tons of babies still on her. I couldn't stomp on her, because not only was she a clearly one tough mom, but I also felt guilty about  what happened to all her spider babies. So my plan mostly consisted of taking the plastic bowl in which she was trapped outside to a tree that was not next to my apartment, and throwing the whole bowl against the tree, so that I did not have to be anywhere near her when she was released.

I didn't litter. I ended up picking up the bowl. But I did throw it in the dumpster. I didn't particularly want to use it again. I also called my dad as it was all happening to make sure that I was going to be okay. That's part of a daddy's job. But I mostly think he thought it was hilarious.

My second most terrifying experience happened much more recently. I saw a giant wolf spider in my entry hallway, and quickly stepped on it before he could escape, and I thought it was dead. When I came back a few minutes later to clean it up, its body was gone. I was confused, of course, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. It just wasn't there anymore. 

So I just continued to exist, doing whatever work I had been doing or watching some tv, probably. And then I decided to take a shower and get ready for bed. After I had gotten clean, I hopped out of the shower and what was right there, blocking my exit from the bathroom, but a giant wolf spider. And there I was, trapped in the bathroom, shoe-less, and very nervous. 

See, I was only able to draw two conclusions from my situation: either there were multiple giant wolf spiders in my apartment, or the spider was intelligent enough to pretend to be dead in order to escape and hunt me down later. Both thoughts are really quite terrifying.

The view between me and my hallway. Also, my bathroom is really not that ugly.

So I pretty much dealt with the situation like a superhero, by hurdling over the spider and racing to get a shoe, and then swiftly bringing to an end the potential danger imposed upon me by that spider. 

Really, I feel really bad whenever I have to stomp on one of those spiders. My guilty conscience roars to life, and I wonder if they had little spider families or spider career plans. And I know that spiders like wolf spiders are not bad spiders, and that they are important to have in our ecosystem. But ultimately, I just can't share my living space with a big, hairy spider. I feel like most of you understand.