It's that time of year again

And by that time, I mean October, that magical month of Oktoberfest, Halloween, and a few things in between.

I'm not a horror writer, and not a big fan of over-the-top horror books or movies, but I like the stylish, intelligent, psychologically creepy stories that are probably not written anymore. My goal is to blog every day or at least every other day this month, just because it's so chock full o' stuff.

Let's start with a little beer and Bradbury. First, the Bradbury.




I love this book. Bradbury starts ominously, with a storm on the horizon and a stranger's arrival. Here's the first bit:

The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied.

Don't you just know that trouble is following that storm?

The book is still available in paperback and ebook (you might find a hardcover in a used bookstore), and the 1983 movie is available on DVD (or maybe Netflix, etc). I'd prefer curling up with the book for an evening, but the movie will do in a pinch.

But what kind of October refreshment goes with Ray Bradbury?

I happen to know he was a big fan of red wine, but this is beer month. I'm not much of a beer drinker, so when I went to Scotland and they served half-pints, I was thrilled. A half-pint is just enough beer for me, and it stays cold the entire time. In ten short days, I became a beer drinker, half a pint at a time.

I like ales, red and hearty, but nothing beats the beer I had in Lexington, Kentucky. Bourbon barrel ale. Ale that's been aged in a bourbon barrel for a few months.

And it's served in the sweetest little goblet.

It was full of that red ale flavor, with the hint of bourbon sweetness - and a higher alcohol content. Man, it was good. If I could get that in California, I'd drink a pint.

Next up: Another classic book/film, and more great libations.

It's October - let the scares begin.

Tonight I went to see Pride and Prejudice at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa. It was a fun play, and I had a great time with my friend Sylvia, who had invited me (she has season tickets), but it got me to thinking: Hey, it's October. What a perfect time to read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

This is how my mind works.

I thought it might be fun to devote October's blogs to Halloween, with all its thrills and chills and even a touch of macabre. So I'm going to try to come up with a month's worth of scares, just for you.

'Cause I'm a giver.

Today's story is about the Not-So-Itsy-Bitsy Spider.

When I was oh-so-much younger, in my early thirties, I lived in a two-story condo in one of those uber-designed developments that had lush tropical landscape and streams running through the whole property (Placentia Lakes, for those of you who live in the neighborhood). My condo had been professionally decorated to reflect the outdoors: beautiful green carpet, pale peach wallpaper with vines, and a gorgeous wool rug that echoed the color scheme.

I came home from work after dark one night, and turned on a few of the lights. It was still a little dim in the room. My dog, Tyler, went over and started sniffing at a dark spot on the carpet. I went over to take a look, and possibly scold him for creating whatever was on the pretty new carpet, and saw it was a spider.

Not just any spider, but a Spider - big and black and at least the size of a silver dollar. We're talking huge, like that spider in Lord of the Rings. Mammoth.

Being an idiot, but a very stubborn one, I went to the kitchen and got the Raid. For the record, Raid does not work on spiders. I kind of knew that. I am, however, the Eternal Optimist, who believes that this once, the poison will kill something that usually doesn't succumb to it. I leaned over Shelob, pointed my weapon and pressed the button. I planned to keep spraying until either she asphyxiated or drowned.

At the first impact of spray, I discovered something about my giant spider. It wasn't a giant spider at all. It was a smaller spider with hundreds of babies riding on her back. Hundreds of babies that immediately scattered in every direction, including my feet.

I believe I screamed like a girl before I ran to the dining area to regroup.

Plan A didn't work. What was Plan B?  After I shuddered the "ick" out of me a couple of times, I went to the hall closet and got the vacuum out, then I reached under the kitchen sink and pulled out the duct tape. I plugged vacuum in, turned it on, and sucked all those little eight-legged freaks up into the bag. Then I quickly removed the bag, covered the opening with duct tape, and took it outside, to the dumpster.

I came back in and washed my hands a few (thousand) times, while I repeated, "Ew. Ew. Ew," at intervals. Spiders had never given me the willies before.

They do now.

How about you? Got any good spider tales?