Suburban Chick

I have officially self-assigned a nickname to myself...Suburban Chick. Last night the Hub goes out to put some trash out. Instantly he's at the back door with that wild-eye look of one who's seen something unusual. "I just found a snake!" And off he zooms to get the shovel to put an end to that trespasser.

The girls and I went out to witness the murder. And friends, we were all three torn between "I want to see" and "ewww, I really don't want to see." I suffered from this dilemna more than the girls. I, unlike those two, stayed up on the deck. For safety, you know.

The Hub saw that black, disgusting thing just before it went into it's snake hole which we now know is under our house. Um. Gross, people. Just watching the Hub perform the pre-meditated murder was funny enough. He plotted, waited for the right moment and hit that sucker right under his head. The follow through was pretty funny too. With the shovel on this creature's neck, there were some serious jumping moves for emphasis. There's just something so not right about a snake. I tie that creature right back to the days of Adam and Eve. Oh, how the serpent was used for evil. Needless to say, I don't mess with snakes.

Once it was thoroughly decapitated, and much to our intrigued horror, the Hub decided to hang the body up on a tree just over our fenceline. Um. Gross, people. Like what? Is that supposed to be a sign to his little friends. This is what will happen to you guys too! But the grossest of all would be the head that continue to writher and stretch for way too long for my comfort. People, gross. Really, really gross. Finally, it took what us civilized people would consider it's first breath and opened it's mouth wide. If I could hear the sound it isn't possible to make it would have been a dying scream, I'm certain. Then shut, and dead and gone. It was strangely like a death scene from a way-too-dramatic movie. I guess he wasn't happy about dying.

Bigger problem: the snake hole under our house. The Hub says this would be the one year he didn't put down the Snake Away around the house. Great Hub, great. After our ordeal was over and we were thoroughly grossed out, I began to think "that could have been me!" I put the trash out all the time; even in the dark. I know that God loves me because if that had of been me, folks I might never venture out again.

And so I have given myself this new nickname: Suburban Chick. What happened to the tomboy girl I was oh so long ago? No clue, but she is gone, gone, gone. I can't stand to feel dirty and sand from the beach is kind of the worst. Just can't stand the feeling on the bottom of my feet. This coming from the same girl that played straight up in the mud as a kid. That same kid has been so suburbanized that I now need and invisible fence around my life to keep the nature out! I have discovered, and last night, confirmed, I am NOT a country girl. And as kind as I am, I am having a hard time being willing to share my space with these creatures. For now, I'm not venturing into the backyard. Snake Away for me is more like Rach Away.