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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Scribbles and Scrambles - You Do Not Want to be a Spider In My House



We've got a bit of a spider problem.


I think the spiders are blissfully unaware of this fact, though.

Rob, being the sensitive pet lover that he is, being protective of the puppies and kitten by not spraying Spider-Be-Gone as per usual this time of year.

In case there is a People for the Ethical Treatment of Spiders...PETS...let me assure you that I know the value of these fine fellows. Without spiders we'd walk around with mosquito welts and our plants would be sad shadows of what they could be (in someone else's yard, my yard is not plant friendly, nor my home. But I digress.)

Spiders are welcome to visit the great outdoors at my home at any time.

However, they aren't content with this scenario.

Because the spiders have realized we are Spider-Be-Gone free, therefore, spider friendly, they are CREEPing in by the droves.

I may be exaggerating when I say droves. When factoring in the icky factor of the spider thing...droves would be around six. Yes. Six spiders.

Encountered spiders. Shudder.

One very brave spider fought back early Friday morning. I stepped out of the shower and there he lurked. I attempted to quickly dispatch him and he resisted, jumping toward me. Twice. Finally, I trapped him and let my brave daughter do the default dirty deed.

Yesterday, I opened one bathroom door wide and something dark caught my attention. Right below the bottom hinge an image, gray but clear.

It was a mark.

Had a super spider left a calling card? A threat? A statement not unlike the horse head?

No. After a little investigation...it turned out not to be a calling card. But simply a poor choice in hiding places.