Billy Phelps

Billy was the best neighbor anyone has ever had. He loved his state, his country and loved his life. He was a crane operator with a tough, honest, loving wife Ruth and 5 daughters. When we lived in North Carolina, Billy lived right next door. His girls were older so he took a shining to our wee ones. He protected them sometimes I think better than we did.

One day the girls were outside playing between our yards where the swing set was. We lived out in the sticks on a gravel road just inside where you could get indoor plumbing. I went in the house for a moment as Billy sat out in his backyard in his usual chair under the tree reading the paper, smoking, and drinking whiskey. All was well until the shotgun blast shattered the calm country air.

Needless to say I ran out of my body to get outside. Erica came running over. I must have had the look of sheer panic on my face. Billy smiled and said, "there was a snake." He reached down and picked it up to throw it away. Erica said, "the snake was coming to get us and Billy killed it." He sure did.

Reason one I dislike the country - child-eating snakes.

I think we should go now

My parents came to visit. The weather was great, so we took a walk down the gravel road in front of our rural home. Midnite, our 90lb jet black Lab/Samoyed mix, was walking along with us. Dusk was just arriving and the air was crisp and inviting. A perfect night for a walk. At least until Midnite darted into the woods and came out with the neighbor's cat.

I don't think I have ever seen that look on my parents' faces before that moment or since. They looked at the dog, at the cat, and then at me. In totally non-Shelley fashion, I calmly took the cat from the dog, walked over to the woods and then walked into the woods. I came out alone a short time later, looked at my parents and said, "I think we should go now."

We didn't speak of that moment again until after we moved.

I won't read your meter

Ring, ring...bang, bang, bang. Hello.
Hey there.
I am your water meter reader and I am afraid I cannot read you meter until you kill the spider.

MICHAEL!!!! We have a problem. Actually you have a problem. There's a spider at the water meter.
So?
Well the water guy says he won't read it until we kill it.
Fine we won't pay the bill until he reads it.
Michael, kill the spider.

2 cans of Black Flag later...
It's not going to die.
Okay, we'll just set it on fire, get some gas.
Are you crazy?
Yes, yes I am

That was disgusting

I am reminded of my first day in North Carolina in 1990. We moved there for my job when Erica was just 1. As we were walking around our apartment that July day, I walked into the bathroom. As I looked around I saw there at the side of the toilet THE largest spider I have ever seen. It was about 3 feet in diameter and I think had a tattoo of Chuck Norris on its leg. Okay maybe that is a slight exaggeration. I instantly went into Super Shelley Spider Slayer mode and stepped on it.

It was at that moment my life changed. I could feel the bones through my shoe. Aaaaarrrrrggghhhhh aaaaahhhhhhhhhh! I started doing that spastic dance you do when something totally grosses you out. Clearly North Carolina was used in secret nuclear experiments in the 80s.

That was just the first of many spiderific episodes that I will recall from my time in the southern wilderness.

What I think about college graduations

1988: Oh My God, make them stop talking. Just give me my degree.

2013: OMG, make them stop talking and singing. Just give her the degree.

C-A-R-N-I-V-O-R-O-U-S carnivorous

L-I-N-I-E-R linier. I'm sorry that is incorrect. Please sit down.

That's what started it all when I was 11. It was the city spelling bee and I came in third. I was upset to say the least. So I took a year off because the stress was incredible and...yeah, that's crap. Actually my confidence was shaken, I didn't want to lose again with that many people watching, so I waited until I was 13 and then it was game on. Eighth grade - I studied relentlessly. Then the day came.

It was serene really. I still remember how great I felt. I wore my yellow CHiPs Poncherello Tshirt and jeans. I loved Erik Estrada. He was so handsome. Remember the episode when he crashed his police issued motorcycle and was on death's doorway on the show because in real life he crashed his bike and was seriously injured? That was high quality TV programming.

Away we went to the bee. The place was packed. Round after round, word after word. Finally it was down to Mark F-something and me. I want to say Freebee. It was something like Frieje. His name was right after mine in the alphabet. He always, let me repeat, always got one point more or a percentage point higher than me on everything. He was my arch nemesis. His smug little self sitting behind me in class always with the right answer. I hated that. He was so irritating. He was short, blonde, and brilliant. Yep totally opposite of what I was looking for. Funny how when my girls were growing up I told them to latch onto those ones. "They have the high power earnings potential," I would say. They would "grow into" themselves in college is what I told them. Its true, think about it. You know at least one boy like that.

He probably was a great little kid. He just needed to have an accident so I could be number one in the class. Geez vindictive a little? Ah, I digress - back to the bee. My mom had to leave the room. Later she said she felt like she was going to vomit.

He got his word - baccalaureate. Somehow he spelled it wrong. I couldn't believe it. Neither could he. He had won the bee two years earlier when linear had taken me out of contention. He turned to me and said "that's it, you've won." I said, "not yet, you never give up until its done." The mic picked up our little exchange. I spelled his word and then came mine. Done. Victory.

I loved my Poncherello shirt. I made sure they got it in its full glory in the newspaper story. I kept that shirt for years. Funny how I thought the spelling bee was so important. That beating Mark was so important. When in the end, it was way more important that I become Erik Estada's wife.

I remain an excellent speller.

I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...

Dreams have always fascinated me. I mean we've all had dreams that we think WTF?!!

My brother used to be a very active dreamer. And by active I mean he did in real time what he was dreaming about. One in particular that comes to mind is the time he was dreaming he was swimming in a race. He was swimming up on that top bunk and did a flip turn right off the edge onto the floor. My mom came in and he was still swimming on the floor. She was amazed he didn't kill himself. I don't think he even hurt himself. He was a talker too. My mom would get him just talking crazy in his sleep. It was funny.

My eldest was a sleepwalker as a kid. There is nothing, I mean nothing more creepy to a person who is already scared of the dark and has been visited by ghosts than having a child who moves about at night. There were two times that to this day I am still amazed I survived. I clearly should have had a heart attack. One time I was sound asleep when I felt a soft breeze on my cheek. My childhood experiences reminded me not to open my eyes until I had a plan. Once I collected my fear and reconciled the fact that death was probably imminent, I opened my eyes expecting to be attacked and killed. Instead there she was standing next to the bed just staring at me. I have always been told you don't wake the sleeping so I just led her back to her bed. She didn't remember it. The second time I awoke to find her standing at the end of our bed staring at us and talking. I am pretty sure she was putting a hex on us. At least that's the story I'm sticking to. It makes the event more fun to talk about. When that movie Paranormal came out, I was like really? How about you pay me for using my life events...except for the killing. I think that was dramatic license.

My own dreams have been vivid over the years. The recurring one is the one that really fascinates me. Everyone probably has one. Mine is that I either fall off an incredibly tall building or I am swinging and I jump off, go incredibly high and then start falling. Every time the outcome is always the same, even since I was little. I always find a way to cushion my fall...always. I either am able to grab a ledge or a pole to slow my descent or somehow keep myself going just a little further until I am able to make a safe landing. I now realize what it means. I don't ever let things beat me. Things may not go my way, but I don't give up. I keep working on a solution.

My worst nightmare though was after the birth of my first child. I had a dream that someone came into her room and tried to kill her. That dream got me up and talking. I popped up on the bed, jumped off the edge, really gave myself a nasty bruise as I beat the hell out of the nonexistent killer. My husband woke me and was like WTF?! Actually there was another time I dreamed of spiders and did the same thing. I guess murderers and spiders fall in the same category for me.

What do you dream about and what secrets do you tell in your sleep?