The Cost of Looking Good

　

Today I thought we should examine the cost of looking good since my latest book Devil’s Concubine is using the back drop of people’s grooming habits. I felt it fitting that we discuss the cost of looking good, the pros and cons and how sometimes the cost is way too much.

I noticed when I was researching for my book, that people’s grooming habits nearly run the economy and play a major factor in our everyday life. Believe it or not our looks can determine from who we marry down to getting that dream job. Looks means everything in our world and it has a nice price attached to it.

Shampoo, conditioners, mousse, gels, hair spray, stuff to make your hair straight, curly, shiny-- the list is endless. Just imagine: that’s just the hair care. Other stuff such as body wash, face creams, perfumes, lotions, deodorant, it seems endless. Every day it seems something new is coming out and something more improved. That stuff comes at a price even though it may cost eight dollars. Eight dollars adds up fast, when you become obsessed.

Clothing comes next in the obsession of looking good. I mean the latest fashion is every season not once a year. Four times a year, with the changing of the seasons a new clothing line comes out. By the time you start to wear one season another season comes along. People’s closets are so packed we are constantly cleaning it out to make room for the next season, very rarely keeping some key pieces that will go through the years.

Shoes and accessories are in a category by themselves however, with jewelry you can make it work with anything unlike the other that changes with the wind. Grandma’s necklace will go with any outfit any season unlike the shoes you bought last year that now doesn’t match the new spring collection you bought the other day.

Hair salons make quite a bit of business off of us also. Women especially, we go to get hair cuts, the latest style, waxing, manicures, pedicures, nails polished, tanning--again the list goes on with those high end salons. It hasn’t been until recently the market has started to include men who we have called metro sexual with the same services.

We all do this. Repeat; we all do! So that’s why I find it ironic how much time and money we spend on looking good. However sometimes this becomes an obsessive behavior which can lead to serious problems. In fact they have television shows on it and it’s sad.

I remember as a child watching my grandmother doing her hair every morning in her bedroom. She would sit at her antique vanity dresser with a giant mirror. Each side of the mirror had drawers which were full of hairspray, makeup, combs, brushes, curlers, perfume and tons of Avon products. She was a fan of Avon and collected many of the bottles. She would work on her hair at least a good ten to fifteen minutes, sometimes longer depending on the occasion.

She didn’t wear a whole lot of makeup but she did put on a little. Once she had her hair the way she wanted, she would pull out the Aqua Net hair spray, which was popular at the time and spray her hair like a crop duster. That room was so overpowering with Aqua Net it was almost unbearable. In fact she believed in her hairspray so much she should have had stock in it as much as she had stock-piled.

I remember when the stuff went on sale, my grandma loved sales, perhaps that’s where I get my frugal shopping. But once again my grandma should have had stock in Aqua Net. Even when she died and they cleaned out her house she still had tons of that stuff. Cabinets full of Aqua Net, a staple in her life.

Now I have a sister who will buy eye shadow no matter what. She has so much of the stuff I bet she doesn’t even use half of it, but she loves the stuff. Every time she shops she always finds herself buying compacts of eye shadow.

My own daughter loves lipstick and lip gloss. She has so much of the stuff there are times I have to say no, I’m not getting it. Now that she’s a young adult she buys her own and some times when you have to dig in her purse for something you pick up several tubes of lip balm before you find what you are looking for.

I’m sure when it comes to your grooming habits we all have certain products we love to use; I love L’Oreal for makeup, Cover Girl for eye shadow, and Clinque for mascara. Mind you I love these products, but I don’t stock-pile them.

My cousin has a fetish for lotions. She buys lotions constantly and sometimes it’s unbearable.

I say when we start buying it as if we are buying stock we may have a problem.

So how much do you think it costs to have all the beauty in the world? Plenty and some people will go without essentials such as not paying an entire electric bill or skip payment on the card to buy that extra stuff or to try out the latest makeup that was advertised in Cosmo. If you can look in you cabinet, closets and under the bathroom sink and see you have products you have started to use then decided something else came along better then you may have a problem.

Sometimes we aren’t aware of this problem. But sometimes we are aware of such or at least the people around us are. Sometimes such as women who have had children like one of my characters in my story, find it difficult to feel pretty and become obsessed with their looks. People who have been through a horrific accident find themselves becoming worried with looks.

But what can be upsetting for us is when people prey upon those who are weak like in my book. People who worry about their looks, who may seem confident in who they are but behind closed doors, go into a frenzy searching for what to wear to the next gala are the ones who fall victim.

In my novel Devil’s Concubine we see what drives the murderer to target his victims and the price of looking good comes at the highest price around--death.

Paper back
http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358178253&sr=8-1&keywords=carla+landreth

Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-ebook/dp/B00AOSEM52/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1358178253&sr=8-2&keywords=carla+landreth

We All Have Hair Fetish

　

They call people who have a hair fetish trichophilia. But after researching my latest book, Devil’s Concubine, I discovered this little fetish is more than just liking hair-- it’s a strange addiction.

For those of you who are unaware of this fetish, I should explain what is a Trichophilia? Trichophilia comes from the Greek “trica” meaning hair and “philia” meaning love. It is when a person sees hair, mostly the head hair, but other hair as well, such as chest, pubic, leg, under arm, stomach, as erotic, becoming sexually aroused, by either feeling, cutting, seeing or being groomed. Hair color and hair styles also play a factor in trichophilia. This certainly applied to my murderer in Devil’s Concubine.

Hair doesn’t have any intrinsic sexual value; however, hair is recognized for its erotic significance, especially in women. Hair plays a major role in art and literature as a sign of beauty, vanity, eroticism and even fashion. Hair can determine how healthy we are and effect our religious beliefs. Hair can sometimes give off subconscious flirting signals or tell when we are nervous, such as when we play with it. Hair can even attract us a mate since head hair is regarded as a person’s secondary sexual characteristic.

But does this determine if we are trichophilia? My research was astounding.

I live in a small town where beauty salons and churches are in competition and it was no wonder I found many ladies going to the salons on a weekly basis.

My aunt has gone to the beauty salon every since I was a child. Rain, sleet, snow or shine, that woman goes to the beauty salon every Thursday at four o’clock. Unless it falls on a holiday then she would have her hair done the day before. Every Thursday she will get into her car and drive miles from her rural home into town just to get her hair done. She will be there for at least an hour before she pulls a scarf over her hair, which by the way her hair is so stiff from the cans of hairspray they sprayed on it she really doesn’t need the scarf but she insists, to make her way back home in time to cook supper for my uncle. She’s been doing this since she was in her thirties and probably before then. So for about an hour and a few bucks she’s done until next week. Is she a trichophilia? The answer will surprise you; yes.

Now I know my aunt isn’t getting sexually aroused by this little trip that she takes every Thursday. In fact I doubt if any of the old ladies that go each week to get their hair done is there for the immense sexual pleasure. But they are getting a dose of production of endorphins every time they go into the salon; studies show this and that is what is so surprising.

Imagine laying back, wonderful smelling soaps being massaged into your hair, there is laughter from the people around you along with gossip. This is an endorphin high for them.

But it’s not just old ladies filling up the shops that are feeling this endorphin high as they say. The younger ones are getting a big charge off of it as well, probably more so than the older ladies.

Women have stated on more than one occasion, I always flip my hair to make sure they notice I have been to the salon or I did up my hair especially for my date. These women are sexually charged from their hair. I might add these women get in groups and have to quickly point out their latest do when they are congregated together, which leads to an endorphin high when they receive those compliments from one another.

It’s not just women who are reaching this endorphin high from their hair. Men also have a fetish with well groomed hair. Perhaps not to the extreme as a woman but they do have this thing when it comes to their heads as well.

Hair care products have become a million dollar business and with advertisements announcing they have the most new innovative product that will make your hair thicker, vibrant, fuller, curlier, straighter, softer, younger looking and so forth, who can not help become a little obsessed with their hair? Do we become the next victim of trichophilia? The answer is no, but we are teetering towards it.

Hair fetish isn’t anything new. In fact as a baby I bet you didn’t realize you were fascinated with hair. You touched your own head feeling the uniqueness of this feeling and let’s not forget the many times you played with a parents’ or an adult’s hair fascinated by the strands presented to you. By the time you are able to hold a brush we are brushing, touching and styling our hair. This will carry us to the day we die.

My question I put before you is would someone kill because of this fetish? And if so, why? As I did my research for Devil’s Concubine I figured my murderer was on an endorphin high when he scalped his victims. The character has many factors that play a role in his decision to hunt down a victim, trap them and then take their hair in such a horrendous way.

So we must determine when do you cross the line to be considered a trichophilia or someone who just wants their hair done on a weekly basis? There is no clear-cut answer. We all have some form of this, if you care anything about your hair. But when we become so obsessed with our hair, when we will kill for hair is when it becomes trichophilia like in Devil’s Concubine.

Paperback:
http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357569558&sr=8-1&keywords=carla+landreth

E-book:
http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-ebook/dp/B00AOSEM52/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1357569558&sr=8-4&keywords=carla+landreth
 

Carla Landreth Shares Her Latest Book

　

　

　

Sometimes as you go along the path of life you get kicked in the gut, hoping you don’t get back up, but not for me, not this writer. I have always worked hard and persevere in anything I do. Whether it be my role as mom, wife, or writer I have always thrown myself into my work.

It’s my passion for telling tales, and that would never disappear no matter how bad my life could get. It’s been a long five years for this author, but she has prevailed. I have pushed myself beyond limits others would not do.

Six years ago my last book, Silk Stocking Road, was a factually inspired story about racism and murder in the 1920’s. Set in the small backdrop of my home town of De Leon, Texas. That was my last book.

So much has happened since that little book came out, my husband’s death, my role as parent would be tested, decisions in my life would change dramatically and my writing would be set aside for a time being.

But who knew this year would be an interesting year. Not only did Silk Stocking Road get pitched to film producers, I got to meet people along the way, who would be not only sparking me back into life, but in my writing as well, and oh yeah, I got a new publisher--BookLocker.

Today, I have a new book coming out and my awaiting fans who have asked over and over again over the last five years, “When is the next book?” will finally have to wait no more.

I should explain how I got the idea for such a book. One day while watching a cheesy western on television, I got an idea when one of the women was scalped. As you know I can have an imagination. What if someone scalped a person now days? Why would they do such act? Before I knew it, I had my trusty legal pad and pencil and was sketching out the latest novel.

In one afternoon I had outlined a novel with characters. In four months I had completed the manuscript and now in one week that book will be out in markets across the globe.

As you know, it wouldn’t be a Carla Landreth novel without the most surprising ending and, yes, it’s a complete page turner. I was thrilled when my editor read the novel and reported back, “You certainly went outside the box and this time your mystery readers are in for a real treat.” I take that as a very good compliment, considering he has worked with greats such as Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oats in the past. Today, I thought it’s time to share what the buzz is all about and gear you all up for it’s release.

What is the story called? Devil’s Concubine.

What is it about? A fictional mystery set in small town Texas, a homicide detective is about to encounter the strangest and most bizarre case of his career.

Detective Gavin Reece is called to the scene of a gruesome murder. The victim is female and has been scalped. He believes this case to be cult related. However Detective Reece soon learns, with the help of his retiring partner and his new partner-to-be, nothing seems as it appears in this case. Reece will uncover a murderer’s seven year methodical killing spree.

In two weeks Detective Reece’s professional and personal life will interfere with this case. But when the killer has targeted one of their own, Detective Reece will do the most unthinkable act in his career, use riddles from an innocent man to catch a monstrous killer.

There you have it.

Over the next few weeks or at least the next few months, my blog, for those of you who follow my blog, I really appreciate it by the way, will see that each article I write will reflect some aspect of Devil’s Concubine. So I believe my readers will be in for a treat with that.

I am also asking my readers to not be shy and give a review of the latest book when you read it. You’d be surprised how many writers like me depend on your reviews.

As I said things are starting to get back into the groove around here and my fans, who I want to thank for being patient, will be seeing a lot more books in the future. Life may have kicked this writer, but she’s not going down without a fight!

This book will be available through Amazon or BookLocker But for those of you who want to learn more about me or any of my books, you can visit my website at
www.carlalandreth.com .


http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354228430&sr=1-7&keywords=carla+Landreth

Everything Has an Age Limit

Everything Has an Age Limit

 

 

There comes a time in every body's life we have to accept the fact we are older. With age comes letting go of the past. Like going past it's expiration's date, you need to throw away or at least put it up in a box to bring out later to share memories with your grand kids.

So what is it that needs to go to the attic as they say? Well, Carla is sounding off on this and hopefully some of you will catch my drift.

The first thing that needs to go is halter tops. Sorry, they are only good if you are pencil thin and have Heidi Klum's body or not past the age of twenty one, possibly twenty three, depending on how you are doing body wise. It irritates me to see these over weight, middle aged women putting on these halter tops thinking they are still young. It's nice to think you are young, but wearing your daughter's or grand daughter's halter top? Also tube tops are a no, no. Don't forget what comes with age. Whatever wasn't sagging before is now rushing to go south. We don't want to see it.

Makeup is great to hide the flaws that age has given us, but do you really think you need that eighties blue eye shadow, bright red lipstick or that bright blush? The answer is no. You have no idea how much you look like a clown coming down the street with all that bright stuff on, it's scary. Add the big teased hair and you definitely look like a clown.

Speaking of hair, big teased hair is out, unless you are trying to hide the balding spot on the top of your head. A good hairdresser knows a few tricks without making you look like you belong to the Happy Beehive Club. Color is an issue. Believe it or not the older we get, our hair color is not suppose to be the same as it was in your twenties. Hair color needs to be chosen carefully, not what looks good on the box, which means stay away from the coal black hair or the bright red you are fancying right about now.

That perfume you wore in high school is no longer in style and please don't go for that stuff that smells like baby powder with flowers, what we call old lady perfume. It may turn grandpa on, but guess what? The rest of us are suffering two isles over.

The casual dress you wore when you were a teen and got you the Most Best Dress award at high school, doesn't mean you should carry that style up into your older age. I'm referring to those ladies and men stuck with seventies polyester suits, sixties micro minis and the Madonna look. Don't you just hate it when someone who is dressed like this says, "Everything comes back into style." Obviously we haven't been reading the complete article in Cosmo when it said it has been reinvented.

I remember an old woman in our little community, Mrs. Green, she was about seventy at the time and she was a huge embarrassment. But in her little mind she was still Mrs. Robinson. Wearing the big hair, bright makeup and yes, those halter tops. I won't mention the Daisy Duke shorts that only showed her wrinkled legs, saggy ass and high heels to boot. Everybody in town used her in a joke and when Tammy Faye came on we weren't shocked as rest of America. In fact we thought Tammy was a little tame compared to Mrs. Green.

I remember how many times she went for the men in our little community. The women found it amusing as this little old lady flirted her way with their spouses, boyfriends, dads, brothers, and uncles. There was no age limit as well, ask some of the young boys who worked at our local grocery store (sorry Steve) who was honored to carry her groceries out to her old Buick. The woman, herself thought she was a cougar while the town saw her as a joke and harmless.

Recently however in my little town I am seeing more and more of these little ladies on the move. At first I thought it was just my little town, I was wrong. It's hitting all of the little towns of America. It's an epidemic! I'm here to tell you please, please control yourselves. Everything has an age limit and I wish you all would see it.

If you still want to dress this way after I have said you look embarrassing not only to yourself but to your family and friends, then I suggest you get with your significant other and play games in the bedroom. Everybody likes to play fantasies in the bedroom. Like, what character am I? Like I said there comes a time when age limit plays a part in our decision making as we get older and I think its high tide you think before you put on those things for everyday use.





Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Picture this; my cousin, Becky and I have taken to an afternoon of fun at the local strip mall. Window shopping, which has become some what of a lost art. For those of you who don't know what that means, it means, you go into a store and don't buy a damn thing. You look, you touch, you put down and you walk out.

My daughter, George, needs something from Rue 21, a favorite among the teens and some adults as well. So we go in, while she searches for what she wants, we adults will browse around the store. I must make a quick note here, browsing for us is really playing around with the merchandise.

The store is unusually packed on this nice warm Saturday afternoon, but that doesn't stop Becky and me from doing our usual fun. We head over toward the jewelry, but not before we get caught by the panty bin. As we pick up some of the ridiculous panties, it is agreed, that only low class hookers would be wearing them and only if they were dead. We giggle, cracking jokes at the many things we see in this bin before finally making our way over to the jewelry.

The latest style however hasn't exactly hit a high note with us. The new style is owls and we cringe at the sight as everybody oohs and aahs over the latest fad.

That 70's craze that swept America and my Aunt Carolyn, has someway made its way back. My aunt was so obsessed with this craze she decorated her entire house with owls. The sad part, you go into her house to this day and owls still dominate the decor, talk about freaky.

So every time Becky and I see these owls, a blast from the past, we giggle and think of our aunt and her obsessive love for the fine feathered friends.

Today our jokes would be no different as we skimmed over the stuff. We are laughing, making little comments, some are clean, some are not so clean, but it's all in good fun. We keep them low and to ourselves but the laughter we have to share.

Now before I go any further with this story, let me say when Becky and I are hanging out together we have a blast. Don't get me wrong we know when to have fun and when to be on our best behavior. But overall expect fun when you hang out with us.

So Becky and I are having a blast. George normally keeps her distance from us, except today. This may have been a day she should have stayed away from us.

As we are laughing, having the time of our life, not caring what the world around us thinks, we are quickly approached by a serious woman, who asks us, have we been drinking?

Besides being stunned, we can't help but laugh, not only at the woman, but the entire situation. When we finally told her we haven't had a drop and that we were just having fun. We, however, got the impression she thought we were lying even though she said, "I wish I had that much energy." As the lady walked away we decided to go back to our fun despite being accused of public intoxication.

Later that night it occurred to me, that people now days have lost their spunk for fun. We were having so much fun and were so happy doing so, that nobody, not even a room full of people, could tell the difference between being drunk and being happy.

Now mind you we weren't being disruptive with our fun. In fact the oodles of teens and their nasty gossip were louder than us. We kept the jokes to ourselves except the laughing and you can't exactly muffle that when it's a good joke.

I have noticed that true fun, has disappeared in the population of America. If you don't believe me, next time you go to the mall, do some people watching, the conversations are tragic and scary. Not to mention the pouty people who had to drive to the mall and complain about the whole situation. Still not convinced, try Facebook and Twitter, more complaints than from a hooker having a slow day. Now don't get me wrong we all have fun to an extent, but the kind of fun I'm talking about is the kind of fun that is so exhilarating that when the day is over you don't forget it. Twenty years from now I'll remember the famous day of my false public intoxication.

So I got to wondering, who's the culprit here? What has caused us to lose our fun mechanism? With a little research I think I found what is interfering with this little gene we call fun.

Schedules--we all live by them, in fact that's how the world runs; on schedules. But have you ever thought that sometimes you need to throw the schedule out the window. Sure every Saturday morning you get up, clean your house, do the weekly shopping, come home, plop your butt in front of the TV and call it a day. Sounds fun but when you factor in you clean house for two hours, get ready to go shopping in ten minutes, then shop for three hours...you get my point here. We demand schedules which, is interfering with fun.

Pair Down--In our society today we are in so many activities that it's a wonder we can even think. I call this category stress burners. Every hour of our spare time is spent doing sport events, school events, church events, work events, no wonder nobody has time to let lose. Sure those things can be fun but once again I'm talking about absolute fun. I feel if you are being pulled in so many directions, perhaps it's time to cut back on those activities. Clutter free life is not only for the house but your social life as well.

Spontaneity--We certainly lack this in our life. When was the last time at the last minute you decided to change something? Like instead of going to the movies, go outside and visit with your neighbor instead. Pop over and get an ice cream cone just plain cone not some fancy stuff in a cup you always get at the local Dairy Queen. While remodeling the house, you suddenly abandon work and go off with your spouse and have wild sex. How about calling your boss and tell him your taking a personal day. Then do something total out of character. Spontaneity hardly exists these days we live by timed schedules.

Smile and laugh--People don't do this enough, hence forth why we are discussing this. I have discovered people who smile more have a better life in general and those who laugh more are happier. I know what you are saying, what is there to laugh about in this day and age? Well, if you got rid of the schedules every once in a while and pair down social obligations just a little and throw caution to the wind when it comes to your spontaneity, you would be smiling and laughing more.

Sure the co-worker in the next cubical may think you have cracked when you start laughing out loud when you think back of the unadulterated fun you had over the weekend, but who cares, you found fun. That poor schmuck had to endure his rigorous schedule, which includes, two hours of cleaning house, three hours of shopping, two school functions which ran two hours each, a baseball game that went into over time that made him late for the boring company picnic, a short conversation with the preacher that turned into thirty minutes, and listen to his in-laws complain how he cooked the hamburgers wrong because he was trying to beat the sun going down.

My brother, Jason once posted on his Facebook, "If life's a journey, then where are the rest stops?" My answer is quite simple. You make them with fun. You find this little gem and the rest of the world isn't so bad and the rest stops are more exciting.

So what does all it all mean? It means, in order to have this absolute fun I talk about, you have to toss the freaking schedule sometimes, disappoint a few obligations, do things on a whim every once and a while and smile and laugh you're way through it. That's pure fun.

Hey Becky, they are getting a shipment of drag queen shoes, should we go look at them?

    

   Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth

My Halloween Spider and Mrs. Strasner

When I was a kid at my house, there was no celebrating Halloween. My parents were convinced it was a devil holiday and that was it. No argument. So while my parents may have bought candy and that was a rarity, for the trick or treaters, we, meaning my kid brother, Jason and I, weren't allowed to dress up or go from door to door to trick or treat. Instead my parents loaded us up in the car and took us to both grandparent's and that was it.

I remember in school after the holiday, kids would bring some of their treats to school and snack on them at recess, leaving me feeling snubbed. Oh well, I had come to accept this as part of my world until I got into second grade.

My second grade teacher was Lurlene Strasner. A very smart woman or at least I thought she was. I heard getting her for a teacher was the best thing; however Wylie Jean Stokes was good also. Of course you know later I had Mrs. Stokes and she influenced my life profoundly even to this day.

Mrs. Strasner was one of those teachers who wanted to really teach, she believed in the rule not to leave one child behind before that rule even existed.

She made learning as much fun as watching the History Channel. She made it fun and educational. I learned more in that class than any other elementary class. She was real good in teaching us history before it became a requirement and fueled my love for the subject after that. She didn't bring out the books and say lets read this, take a test and call it that, not Mrs. Strasner.

Now while most teachers don't think to use the famous day by day chart, called the Calendar, Mrs. Strasner did.

I learned so much about the holidays that I was so unaware that I didn't know much about them until I got her class. When Halloween was fast approaching she began our studies on this wicked and controversial holiday.

I remember how she approached the holiday in question, "Does anybody know anything about All Hallows Eve?" The whole class sat quietly looking at each other waiting for someone anybody in our group to speak up. There was no answer. She then asked, "Does anybody know anything about Halloween?"

All hands came up!

She smiled, "Does anybody know what it means?" Those hands were up again like bingo winners at a bingo game. But the answer that was given was wrong. No it was not a devil worshipping holiday nor was it a holiday for candy.

She explained that Halloween was All Hallows Eve. From there we got a fascinating lesson, about truths, myths, the origin of the holiday and that it was observed around the world. We learned that certain cultures celebrated it differently and some cultures had added traditions and so forth. I told you she was a good teacher.

We read stories that related to Halloween and even watched a small cartoon on the projector called, The Headless Horseman. Our spelling words, even math had to do with Halloween, this went on for a good two weeks.

Now you would think that this would have been it, but it wasn't. Each day we learned something or did a project and I loved the projects we did. They were crafts and let's be honest; if kids can do things with their hands they will learn more. I told you she was ahead of her time.

Well one day Mrs. Strasner had a box of sticks that looked like she made poor Mr. Strasner gather from the yard. They were about a foot long and had several little tiny limbs branched from the larger limb. We all sat at our desk completely excited.

Before we got started she told us to bring out our scissors, glue, and a piece of Manila paper, pencil and ruler, which like good excited kids that's what we did. The very first thing she told us to do was write our name at the bottom of the paper.

She then came around each desk placing one of those little branches in front of us on our manila paper and told us not to play with them. As soon as she got those limbs to each student she came by with these little black pre-made pompoms. They were not real large but not too small either. She again laid one at each desk.

The anticipation was growing.

Then she came by with two little eyes and laid them beside our pompom and then she came by with white yarn. Now she pulled it out of the skein two times explaining that when she pulled it out each time and brought it to the tip of her nose it was roughly a yard. Of course she wanted to know how much she was giving us if she was doing this process twice. Then she would ask you to cut the yarn and place it on your desk.

Do you know how hard it is for a child to sit still with these marvelous things staring at us, not easy, but with Mrs. Strasner she told marvelous stories which entertained us which kept our mind occupied.

Once she was back at the front of the room she explained what we were doing we were making spiders and spider webs. She told us to take out our ruler and measure off so many inches on our yarn. I think it was six inches, I could be wrong. She then came by with a black sharpie and marked it. Math lesson 101 as they say was done. We had to glue the eyes to the pom pom and leave that on the Manila paper.

They would be drying while we did the next step. She told us to take our yarn and wrap it around the little limb we had. She told us to use our imaginations when doing this, but to leave where she marked on our yarn dangling down.

I remember we were so excited we couldn't help but talk to our neighbors with all the excitement. Yes, we still maintained a soft voice even with our neighbors. I must explain this because many teachers who are reading this now wonder; how did she do that?

Well, Mrs. Strasner taught us at the very beginning of the school year about our indoor voice. She explained to us the only time we use that loud voice is if we are in trouble. She pointed out your parents don't yell at the neighbors next door when they are right beside each other, now do they? She was right. I don't remember my parents ever raising their voice to people in public, so why should I, unless as she said you were in pain or in trouble and needed help. We were also rewarded at the end of the week if we had followed this rule and it usually was good.

Now back to my story.

Some of us really got to playing with our yarn and made what we thought was designs of what our spider would weave in the night. Mrs. Strasner went around checking our progress, encouraging those who weren't doing so good and praising those that were moving along fine.

When this step was done she moved to the next which was now glue our spider to the end of the yarn.

By the way this step was easier said than done, but we all glued the best we could then she told us to lay our spiders on the paper at the front of our desk. She would call each of you to carefully take your spiders still on the paper to the book case and lay them on top where she said they were going to get some sunning to dry.

We would forget these little critters until the next day. She told us to go and get our spiders and put them at our desk. We were so excited. We sat at our desk and she told us to bring out a sheet of notebook paper and our pencil and we had to write a short story about our spider in cursive writing. Yes, I had fun writing my story and yes at the end of the day we got our grade on our story and handwriting. Good story idea, but bad handwriting. To this day I still laugh about it. It wouldn't be the only time poor Mrs. Strasner would be working on my handwriting.

We would bring these creatures home and I remember for years I kept that thing until we moved and then lost it. We still however, never got to trick or treat, but I did learn Halloween wasn't a bad holiday all because of Mrs. Strasner.

When I had kids I sort of carried that crafting life with me and the history along with it. Each year I made those same little spiders with my kids, except we would go out together and pick the limb ourselves, bonding time as they say between mother and child. I also remember watching my kids with excitement in their eyes, as mine, when I was a child in school and feeling a little bit like Mrs. Strasner as I watched them make their spiders and spider webs.

A memory from school I carried to my children, who to this day laugh when they remember getting to make Halloween spiders for many years.





Books by Carla Landreth
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