Themes. Spiders. Pens. Ouch.
Did it ever occur to you to be suspicious when you day seems to have a theme? My theme for the day - maybe because it's October - is "spiders." I didn't choose the theme, it seems to have chosen me.
I walked out the door at 7:15 this morning, intending to take the dog to the dog park (50 acres to run and chase rabbits and squirrels and other dogs to her heart's content). I walked into a massive spider web that had apparently been spun overnight. Webbing on my face, my neck, my glasses, and a semi-irate spider crawling on my neck. I could sympathize, I guess - I'd be annoyed if some behemoth lumbered into something I'd spent all night creating. Now, understand that spiders are not one of the things that give me the heebie-jeebies1, but I wasn't all that awake yet.
The dog park was very nice this morning - a heavy but patchy ground fog with the sun rising over and through it, the gray fog turning silver where the sun touched it. The Douglas firs, some of which are nearly 200' tall, were so dark a green they were almost black. Because of the fog, everything was very damp2 and all the spider webs - on the bushes, the tress, the omnipresent blackberry bushes, the fences - stood out as though they'd been spotlighted. The ground webs are densely woven, and with the dew on them they almost look like a solid construction, a little funnel for insects, nature's version of a Roach Motel trap. I haven't studied spiders much, but there are so many types of webs, from fine, delicate webs with just a few strands holding them up to very large and business-like webs - those look like they were done by construction contractor spiders with professional equipment. You know, a spider with a little hard hat and blueprints3.
We did five laps around the perimeter of the park (about 8 miles) and by the time we were done, the beautiful day had vanished. The few wispy clouds on the western horizon had moved in and dropped down, and it had started to rain lightly4. I watched as some the delicate webs were weighted down and destroyed by the water. But I think that's the design point of the delicate ones - light, easy to rebuild another day. There is a lesson in there, I feel sure, but today I feel too dense to get it.
But there is more to the story. I had to go get some office supplies ( could go into my thing for mechanical pencils and gel-roller black pens with fine lines, but I think I won't), and while I was perusing the wall-o-pens, I saw a very lonely one up in the corner that looked odd. I reached up to get it - and got nailed by a spider, who apparently viewed that pen as HERS, dammit.
So now I am home, with a hot red lump on the back of my right hand about the size of a silver dollar and raised about a half an inch (yes, benadryl, yada yada), contemplating the nature of spiders, themes of the day and rewards of pen lust.
1. No, that'd be EARWIGS. A long, long time ago, when I was a wee lass, I saw a movie (Outer Limits? Twilight Zone?) where a Bad Guy kills a good guy by putting a gravid earwig in his ear, the theory being that she lays an eggs case in his head and the baby earwigs will eat their way out. Right through his brains. Eww. Earwigs. Brain-eating. And, NO, it was not one of the god-awful Star Trek movies, so don't tell me that.
2. Duh. Fall, Pacific Northwest. Cold and wet is my world. Where have I heard that before?
3. I have seriously watched too many cartoons with anthropomorphic themes.
4. Since it's fall here, my normal outfit of sleeveless shirt, shorts and Birkenstocks has been replaced by jeans, waterproof hiking boots, a t-shirt and a very over-sized hoodie sweatshirt (in dark blue, denim blue, dark purple, dark gray, light gray or black - or, as the spouse likes to say "I know you have breasts under there somewhere, but damned if I can see them under the huge sweatshirt"). The Boy has taken to calling me every day from the desert outskirts of Los Angeles to tell me how close it got to 100. Grrr. Not smart, my dear first-born. Mom will come live with you if you keep that up, and it'll put a huge crimp in your love life.
I walked out the door at 7:15 this morning, intending to take the dog to the dog park (50 acres to run and chase rabbits and squirrels and other dogs to her heart's content). I walked into a massive spider web that had apparently been spun overnight. Webbing on my face, my neck, my glasses, and a semi-irate spider crawling on my neck. I could sympathize, I guess - I'd be annoyed if some behemoth lumbered into something I'd spent all night creating. Now, understand that spiders are not one of the things that give me the heebie-jeebies1, but I wasn't all that awake yet.
The dog park was very nice this morning - a heavy but patchy ground fog with the sun rising over and through it, the gray fog turning silver where the sun touched it. The Douglas firs, some of which are nearly 200' tall, were so dark a green they were almost black. Because of the fog, everything was very damp2 and all the spider webs - on the bushes, the tress, the omnipresent blackberry bushes, the fences - stood out as though they'd been spotlighted. The ground webs are densely woven, and with the dew on them they almost look like a solid construction, a little funnel for insects, nature's version of a Roach Motel trap. I haven't studied spiders much, but there are so many types of webs, from fine, delicate webs with just a few strands holding them up to very large and business-like webs - those look like they were done by construction contractor spiders with professional equipment. You know, a spider with a little hard hat and blueprints3.
We did five laps around the perimeter of the park (about 8 miles) and by the time we were done, the beautiful day had vanished. The few wispy clouds on the western horizon had moved in and dropped down, and it had started to rain lightly4. I watched as some the delicate webs were weighted down and destroyed by the water. But I think that's the design point of the delicate ones - light, easy to rebuild another day. There is a lesson in there, I feel sure, but today I feel too dense to get it.
But there is more to the story. I had to go get some office supplies ( could go into my thing for mechanical pencils and gel-roller black pens with fine lines, but I think I won't), and while I was perusing the wall-o-pens, I saw a very lonely one up in the corner that looked odd. I reached up to get it - and got nailed by a spider, who apparently viewed that pen as HERS, dammit.
So now I am home, with a hot red lump on the back of my right hand about the size of a silver dollar and raised about a half an inch (yes, benadryl, yada yada), contemplating the nature of spiders, themes of the day and rewards of pen lust.
1. No, that'd be EARWIGS. A long, long time ago, when I was a wee lass, I saw a movie (Outer Limits? Twilight Zone?) where a Bad Guy kills a good guy by putting a gravid earwig in his ear, the theory being that she lays an eggs case in his head and the baby earwigs will eat their way out. Right through his brains. Eww. Earwigs. Brain-eating. And, NO, it was not one of the god-awful Star Trek movies, so don't tell me that.
2. Duh. Fall, Pacific Northwest. Cold and wet is my world. Where have I heard that before?
3. I have seriously watched too many cartoons with anthropomorphic themes.
4. Since it's fall here, my normal outfit of sleeveless shirt, shorts and Birkenstocks has been replaced by jeans, waterproof hiking boots, a t-shirt and a very over-sized hoodie sweatshirt (in dark blue, denim blue, dark purple, dark gray, light gray or black - or, as the spouse likes to say "I know you have breasts under there somewhere, but damned if I can see them under the huge sweatshirt"). The Boy has taken to calling me every day from the desert outskirts of Los Angeles to tell me how close it got to 100. Grrr. Not smart, my dear first-born. Mom will come live with you if you keep that up, and it'll put a huge crimp in your love life.