I suppose I should text my son, Mike, to warn him about this post before it gets published. I wouldn’t want him to accidentally to read it without notice. Because, I’m pretty sure he reads my stuff. He says he does, anyway. Due to a series of unfortunate events, Mike has an almost debilitating fear of winged creatures. In order to fully comprehend the crippling panic he experiences upon being confronted on the street, along the magnificent lakefront of Chicago, or even on the page of a blog, I would direct you to a prior post, published 5/25/2012: Survival Of The Fittest…Or Why I’m An Indoorsy Person (https://boxwinebudget.com/2012/05/25/survival-of-the-fittest-or-why-im-an-indoorsy-person/)

Anyway, this most recent encounter with a horrid member of the animal planet happened just last Saturday. The day started out as most of our Saturdays do, with a stop at Caribou Coffee and a leisurely stroll down Third Street in Geneva, IL. My husband and I have been enjoying this ritual for several years now, the last couple years with our youngest daughter, Mary Kate along for the company. She has since left the security of home and Saturday morning coffees to begin a new chapter in her life at college. But, enough of her… This story is about me and the near-death experience I, ummm…experienced.

So, after a relaxing saunter down Third Street, we headed a little further south to a Farmer’s Market to say hello to our neighbor and friend who sells great hot sauce and salsa (http://www.slapyousilly.net/) Next stop was to pick up a few items at Fresh Market for some scrumptious dinners we had planned. When does this story get scary, you ask? In about two inches… Upon starting the car to head home, I notice something absolutely gigantic on my husband’s sleeve. It was just below the shoulder and took up the majority of his short sleeve. At first, I tried to make some sense out of it. What was it? Was there some sort of label or patch on his sleeve that I hadn’t noticed before? While my brain was feverishly at work, the car pulled into traffic and it was then that I understood. We had stumbled into the midst of some sort of Sci-Fi alien creature invasion. I tried to gently warn my husband that there was an enormous beast on his arm without startling him, but it came out sounding something like: “AAAHHHHHH”  Well, something like that, anyway. Managing to avoid a collision on the road, he frantically brushed it off his arm. And that’s when things got really ugly. This prehistoric creature FLEW across the car towards ME and landed on my ARM REST. I hope you’re noticing all the capitalized letters, because I really mean them. Safely strapped in with my seat belt (I may never wear one again), I managed to practically jump into the driver’s seat which wasn’t easy, let me tell you. But adrenaline is an impressive thing.  My eyeballs must have looked like two golf balls attached to my face as I quickly took action slamming my purse on top of the freak. I pressed with all my might, not letting go until the we were safely home & the car door opened. Logic dictated that this thing had to be crushed and beyond any possibility of retaliation, but my gut said otherwise. Fortunately, logic won.

What was this thing that had so terrified me and was almost the cause of a multi-car crash and also possibly a divorce? A CICADA. That’s right. One of those disgusting things that comes to life every few years to terrify we peace-loving people. My heart is still racing just writing about it. I hope this awful incident doesn’t make us re-think our weekly Saturday ritual. Mary Kate made us promise that after she left, we would continue to go for coffee while listening to The Swing Shift on WDCB radio. We have to…for her sake. Otherwise, the cicadas win.