I am. delicious. to bugs.

Really, I don't know what it is. Every summer I become a walking mass of bug bites. But the thing is, my husband doesn't get bitten. My son doesn't get bitten. But I - I am eaten alive. Mosquitoes leave a rash of multiples tiny bites, usually around my ankles and wrists, invisible to the eye but itching furiously at the slightest provocation, i.e., the rustling of my clothes. Ants leave more visible evidence of their attack, dense little bumps that itch like crazy for a day or two, then become more bearable.

Spiders are the worst. The spiders that live around my home leave bites that seem innocuous at first, but over the next few days develop into a swollen red patch the size of a golf ball that is hot to the touch. Doesn't itch unless I accidentally scratch - but once scratched, it takes all my willpower to stop from scratching myself raw.

What, you might ask, is the punchline of this story? Well, despite my complaining, to some extent I asked for it. Because unlike most folks I know around here, I do very little to thwart these invaders. Our relationship is ambivalent. For all the discomfort they cause me, I kinda like the little buggers.

Such is the way. Here in Ohio, spiders move into the house in the summer like they're gathering to re-enact some B movie. They're everywhere. They set up shop here and there in the backs of closets, near the bathtub...there's even one (who is perhaps not so bright!) spinning a web across my mailbox each day, despite it being destroyed daily when the mailman drops letters in. And I simply live and clean around them, refusing to kill them or even to move them outside. Even in the basement, where they are so prevalent I carry a broom and gently sweep ahead of my steps out of my fear of being bitten...still I can't bring myself to open a can of mass arachnocide on them. I choose the box I'm looking for and shake it before returning upstairs. Multiple spiders fall to the ground, looking somehow indignant despite the lack of facial expressions.

"Shoo!" I cry out, dashing for the stairs. "You can have the basement; I just want this box!"

I'm not crazy about spiders, but I respect them. They creep me out, but at the same time it's hard not to be fascinated by these tiny artists weaving their intricate webs. Seemingly sinister predators, and yet incredibly delicate and beautiful. The very embodiment of patience.

My friend who is interested in shamanism would probably tell me that the abundance of spiders around me is telling me something. The spider is a powerful totem, often associated with finding balance in life, or weaving a bridge between past and future. I can't really say; I have little knowledge of shamanism, though I'm interesting in reading more about it in the future.

Still...if the spiders have a message for me, I wouldn't object to a different form of communication. Maybe they could weave me a message in a web. Like "Radiant"!

Or even "Some Songbird". ;-P

Well, I am back...to stay, who can tell? In the thirteen months since the last time I posted here, my life has gone through a whirlwind of change. Most of it has been the happiest period of my life...the past few months, the darkest and most difficult. I'd like to post more regularly; I can't guarantee that I will. Such has always been a way with me.

When I was younger, I loved journals. How beautiful their covers, sitting there on the store shelf! How crisp and fresh their pages, the blank expanses of parchment within brimming with promise! I'd picture myself as the journaling type - filling the pages day-to-day, and someday having them on my bookshelf to take down and peruse, snapshots of my younger self. But like a new toy, each journal inevitably contained faithful entries spanning a week or two...then one or two a few months later...then maybe one a year later...then nothing. Somewhere buried deep in my belongings are several such abandoned journals with a handful of well-intentioned entries...from my early marriage, my pregnancy, my son's early days.

So what can I tell you of the past thirteen months? At the end of last summer, we made a most unconventional move - we (meaning my husband, my son and I) moved into a very spacious house with our dearest friend, a divorced man with three children. Where most define their immediate family unit by legal contracts and blood, we created our own with those we love as deeply as family. My son now had the sibling-type companionship he wanted. My friend, who often worked long hours, now had a mother hen to tend the home and children. And the three adults now had the opportunity be together more often, instead of just on the occasions we could work around schedules and sitters to visit. In my house of seven, I had the most wonderful chaos I could imagine.

Today, my friend is sitting in jail, unable to make bond, awaiting trial for crimes that I truly believe he did not commit, and his children are in foster care. The best part? He is guilty until proven innocent. If a jury believes his accuser's statements, they can put him in a prison cell until the day he dies without a shred of evidence. Because his accuser is his 12-year-old daughter, and we are taught to believe that when it comes to certain issues, children never. ever. ever. lie.

Even if the child was raised until the age of eight by a deceptive sociopath, a woman who is angry that she lost custody, a woman who raised this child to tell tales, to be a victim, a shoplifter, to file false reports (there is a looong history). Even if the eldest heard overheard an entire year before the arrest that the mother was coaching her to say things. Even if these tales came a mere two weeks after her best friend made accusations against her father and received ample attention for it. Even then.

What do you think, when you see a news story about a man who has been arrested for such a thing? You don't think, "I wonder if he's guilty." You think, "Wow, I hope they put that scumbag away for life." If you don't, you're in the minority. I had such a tendency. Over the past thirty years, in the wake of mandatory reporting laws and the infamous sex abuse hysteria of the 80's, it does seem that allegations of sexual molestation have become the new Salem Witch Trials.

So here I am. I now live in a large and conspicously empty home, scrambling to find a new apartment because we are now paying twice the rent and twice the utilities to which we are accustomed. My friend has lost his freedom, custody, his job, all his money. I am running out of money. I organized a Paypal donation system and with the help of his other friends raised the funds (including my entire savings, which was earmarked for my dream trip to Japan) to hire him a decent attorney. I've been harassed by detectives and investigated by Children's Services as to whether I am qualified to raise my OWN child. I have written letters. I have cried, I have prayed, I have worried myself sick and lost weight. And it may all come to naught in a few months.

Wow, this is SO long. But it's impossible under the circumstances to answer the question "What's new?" in a paragraph. But I am not hopeless. I still have my health, my husband and my child. I have learned that I have more strength than I ever realized. And I know more than ever who I am, what I believe and what I will fight for. I am a truly blessed woman.

Hoping for better times and better news in the near future, I wish you all a wonderful day.

Ellie

1. List five things in your bedroom.

-High school yearbooks

-Big stuffed frog I won playing games with my sister at an amusement park.  My sister has one just like it.

-Warmest Blanket Evar, crocheted by great grandmother and totally irreplaceable

-Bag of various outfits for Jenny, the decapitated-recapitated stone goose on my porch (long story!)

-Jewelry box filled with way too many necklaces that I never wear. 

2. List 4 things you like about yourself.

-My sense of humor.

-My musical nature.

-My "beauty mark"!  I'm so glamorous.  (side note: when I was a little girl, I hated it and tried to pick it off!  It grew back.)

-My knack for curries and stir-fry. 

3. List 3 of your favorite pastimes.

-Singing, singing, singing.

-Blogging.

-Gaming.

4. List 3 of your favorite quotes

"Apparently, the difference between a stinkbomb and a Level 3 toxic biohazard is two extra drops of sulfur tetraoxide.  I'm totally suing that website." - Malcolm, Malcolm in the Middle

"Please consider yourself, now and henceforth, and no matter what anyone else asks of you, free to do any damned thing you want that doesn't hurt someone else unnecessarily." - Lady Sally McGee, in Callahan's Lady by Spider Robinson.

"The church is near, but the roads are icy.  The tavern is far, but I will walk carefully."  - Ukrainian proverb, as quoted by Charlie Daniels

If you're listed below, you've been TAGGEDINATED!

-Aislin

-Moriko

-Leilee

-Tammy

-Nyanah

-Eryana

(sorry if you've been tagged by someone else too...)