Yesterday morning I took out the trash and passed Mrs. Argiope’s bush, and wah! She wasn’t in her web.
I dropped the trash and went into defense mode, just in case she was hovering overhead, about to land on my neck and suck me dry.
I mean, everything I’ve read about these creatures says they’re peaceful, non-aggressive types, but there’s no harm in being cautious, I always say.
When my breathing returned to normal I searched until I found her right next to the little egg sac she’d made last week.
Aha, I thought, her time had come! She was in labor! About to knit that second egg sac and birth a couple thousand more alien children!
Throughout the day I kept checking on her with my camera, hoping I could get some stellar shots of spider birthing rituals or Lamaze breathing or even Mr. Argiope giving her a hand, but no. She just sat there, like she had nothing better to do.
When I checked on her with my flashlight last night I was worried: was she egg bound? Sick? I’d read that some argiopes die at the end of the summer; was she was saying goodbye to her egg sack?
And then this morning I went to look and found her back in her web, all skinny again, and in the bush were TWO egg sacs. Not only had she knitted up a second one, she patched up the first one with some old leaves:
So have a virtual cigar, everyone. I’m an arachno-godmother—who intends to let the boys take out the trash from now on.
No time to dilly dally… I’m late with my Super Sabado! Hurry, hurry, hurry!
Partying, baptizing, bleaching and possible pouncing…
Secret Squirrel, who obviously knows how to spend a weekend!
Beverly marches forward and looks her over from top to toe.
“Welcome…err..Princess Vampirella” she says with an irritated tone, “Did you forget to bring your battle armour? You seem to just have your underwear on”
Ole’ Jean-Luc of Captain Picard’s Journal, explaining how he came to land on Bev Crusher’s poop list.
Since our last visit some wild beast (well I am assuming a local dog) ran all over the nice, white pizza oven roof with muddy paws, then up the stairs to the roof of the Lamia, peered over one parapet, trotted over to the other side, peered over that, repeated for a third side and then off again.
Mark of Gullible’s Travels, with possibly the most wildly decorated pizza oven in all of Italy.
….and Freida is home. And still quite ill and skinnier if that is possible and very sleepy and very hungry and when she is awake and not pooping, she is her old self.
Susan of Church of Angst, and more of the ka-ching! that comes from taking care of bulldogs. Hang in there, Susan!
About a month ago, I was robbed. A guy hit me over the head, went through my pockets and ran off with $4.95.
Screamwriter, on having to pay for the indignity that was Ultraviolet
Many thanks to my lovely, vivacious, most beautiful girlfriend who mockingly reported her home to be fly-free thanks to superior cleaning. She actually thinks that a house with one adult male, a teenaged-male, and a 10 year-old male isn’t clean?
The Canadian Nuclear Moose, apparently suffering from the same fly plague we’re suffering down here in So Cal.
Wandering to the next room, we were again in the presence of The Hat Lady, who we saw nursing a glass of what she called, “ginger ale.” Now, I’m no chemist, but I’d hazard a guess that “ginger ale” wasn’t the only liquid in that glass.
Another partyer, Ms. Karen, who hangs out with a wild crowd at local teas.
He’s the reason I held my pee for four hours. I just couldn’t get myself to bramble off into the bushes and stick my hiney out like a couple of bear croissants.
Robin “Croissants” Grantham, of Curious Distractions, reminding us that bears eat in the woods, too.
As her date removed his pants, Sheila suddenly recalled a hilarious radio spot she’d heard that morning. Later, when pressed, she’d admit the timing was unfortunate.
Lesia of Southern Writer, a woman for whom timimg is everything.
If she weren’t 32 years old I’d turn her across my knee.
Wander of Wander’s World, regarding an offspring who forgot to call and say she was okay.
Italians have a great technique – one which I have almost mastered – of hiding their mouths with their hands while they use them.
Welshcakes Limoncello, on the Sicilian expertise with toothpicks.
“What designer is well-known for tuxes?” and “On a red head what colors work?” and “Explain why Marc Jacobs has a line called Stinky Rat.”
The demanding Jaye of Jaye’s Blahg, doing research for a novel.
So, I ask you…if one is a secure cat, accustomed to taking the high road, and this cat is not used to dignifying misperceptions and absurdities with a response because to do so would give credence to what the catty insecure felines have to say—should this secure old cat (accustomed in her ways) try to learn new routes and throw away her old maps that do include the high road? Should this kitty bring out her claws and take what she considers the low road?
Teri Grey Franta, who, by the way, loves all cats with FOUR legs.
Satan started searching frantically, screaming: “It’s gone! It’s all GONE! I lost everything when the power went out!”
Bonnie Calhoun, describing an oh, so typical infernal reaction to an electrical outage.
So off to the store I went on the great sock hunt. First store revealed nothing. Not a nibble, not a take me home and make me yours sock.
Kristen of A-Mused Chaos, yearning for the socks that will whisper to her.
I know, I could have gone to Amazon but there’s something about finding one on the shelf…
April of Desperate Writer, on the joys of the used book store. (Edited to add that April just moved to WordPress.com!)
Per Labor Ad Amor: Safely delivered, at 5:51 last evening, a grandaughter, Elizabeth Victoria Eleanor, 7 lbs. 8 oz.
Be still, my heart.
Another quality literary production from the Bernita Harris Publishing House.
All my life, if you saw a woman eating tea leaves, standing on a roof throwing rocks at horses, frantically cleaning perfectly clean objects and all related weird things. Everybody just shook their heads and said, hello, so and so is pregnant.
The infamous tl of Life Got Away, describing a time-honored Australian pregnancy test.
my mom, being from taiwan,
never baked. our double ovens
were used as storage for pots and
pans and other various kitchen
junk. so i seriously had baked
goods envy. and cupcakes topped
Cyn of and miles to go before i sleep. Somebody give that gal a plate of homemade cupcakes!
After reading this book, I never looked at the government or my fellow man the same. Trust no one. Show me a smile, give me a kind word and I’ll wonder where you’re hiding the knife. Okay, I grew out of most of that mistrust, but for a ten year old, that book was really scary.
James Goodman of Rants, Raves & Random Thoughts, describing the effects of Machiavelli on a 10-year-old’s soul.
In honor of this BIG DEAL I’m reposting my first post. Sorry, it’s such a lame one. Obviously, I had no clue. ha.
Dink of Ink Blog, celebrating a major Bloggiversary.
“Madness does not always howl. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end the day saying, “Hey, is there room in your head for one more?”
The best mixtape cd ever – I (double dog) DARE you to beat it.
Jamie of Lunacy for Beginners, and it looks like he’s thrown down the gauntlet, kids!
I’m walking along in the middle of this road and I’m getting facefuls of spider web. Maybe not ‘facefuls’ but enough that it’s irritating and I can feel them going over my head and off when I brush through my hair (I’m worth it ðŸ˜‰ ). So how do they get 6 ft up with a 12+ ft gap? They can only be using stilts.
Podz of What Makes You Happy. Podz, we’d like to recommend your neighborhood import some argiopes, as they’re quite efficient at chasing off all the stilt-using spiders.
Star Wars Infinities: The Empire Strikes Back is an adventurous and thought-provoking “What if?” tale by writer Dave Land and artist Davidé Fabbri. It begins in tandem with the original The Empire Strikes Back script, but when a hero of the Rebellion dies before he can fulfill his destiny, history is forever altered.
MacManX, alerting us to an alternative fictional history wherin… something happens to LUKE! Like, in the first five minutes of the movie!
In its pursuit of an even younger demographic, Mtv introduces the latest version of its show “Cribs” with the new host Lil’ Grouchypants.
Mr. Grouchypants on the very cute Baby Grouchypants, who has shown a recent interest in assorted bling.
The ‘hopefullness’ which is being offered at the end to mitigate the previous 108 minutes of hell requires such a suspension of disbelief that it brings a dream-like fantasy quality to the conclusion of a blood, guts and snot movie.
And for those of you who’ve stayed until the very end, I tried to find a funny spider video, but there aren’t any I liked. So I’ll do what I always do in such situations, and fall back on a Star Wars video, like this one from Robot Chicken.