Eek.

Bats.
For some reason I think they're adorable. Really.

For some reason I have a strange paranoia that their little limbs would get caught in my hair and I'd break the tiny bones rendering them crippled. Really.

As a teen I once woke in my "attic" ceiling bedroom to see a small bat fluttering a foot over my head. Being the dead of night, I thought I was hallucinating until it squeaked. Surprisingly I didn't scream but woke my Mom. If I remember right, by the time we got upstairs it must have flown right back out the open window.

We've seen a few here in Crete. Napping from the ceilings of caves and tombs. There are a couple nesting in the clay tile roof above our patio. Our private mosquito patrol who like to dive bomb the pool on occasion. (Nothing like backfloating to watch the stars and see baby Dracula skitter over you within touching distance.)

Driving home at three in the morning last week, a bat flew in front of our car. It took a minute to register what we saw. The bats here are small, maybe the size of a hamster but what we saw was larger. Much. A gray furred loaf of bread with black leathery wings. Once the idea settled that I saw a cat sized bat a few feet from my windshield and only blocks from our house- I couldn't stop the heebie jeebies from shaking my spine. Big. Cat big. Creepy big. Bite me big. I love my little guys but this one, yikes. Here's hoping he's a vegan.

Spiders. Horrible Followed By Adorable (See hedgehog post that follows)

My husband is like Mr. Rogers. Pleasant, kind, smiley and non threatening. And he rarely swears. Until I screeched a string of billigerent curses when I reached for my toothbrush and saw this spider. The spider induced Brian to join my chorus of the angered/heebie jeebie curse song.

I HATE SPIDERS

No. It's not the worst one I've seen. That's what this post is about- the worst I've seen and the worst I just learned about.
This post is not for those who jump on the chair and pray the house burns down around them just to avoid coming into contact with the godforsaken eight-legged ick that somehow ended up in the sink.
But for those of you who like this creepiness- well, you're wrong in the head and read on.

Ew. Enough with the spider in our bathroom. It got squished with a rock in the parking lot. Ew. Ew. Ew.











Ready for more?
We were talking about our icky escapade when a soldier told us about the camel spiders of Iraq. Lovely.

Huge fuzzy things that eat lizards. These spiders covet shade and will chase soldiers to stand in their shadow. Yay. They jump too. Double yay. They can leap pretty high to attached themselves to a camel's shady side. The camel will roll when a few horrifying hopping hobos need to be evicted. That sends them scattering. Hopefully not in my direction.

Here are a couple pics of camel spiders.

Cute. This one is eating a lizard. Hope it got salmonella poisoning and died, died, died.

I don't know if they were fighting (which bored soliders place bets on) or mating or just participating in cannibalism. Fighting, mating and cannibalism- sounds like a kinky date.

Now boys and girls.
There is a heaven and there is a hell. How do I know? Because a demonic molecule escaped and propped itself up in my Uncle Alan's closet in the jungles of Puerto Vallarta. My brother, husband, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew, parents and I saw it.

Paralyzed in fear, a few of us saw it unfold it's nine inch, scarlet toothpick legs, rear up and while flashing its barbed scorpion like pinchers- heard it hiss. IT HISSED AT US!

It was a mere two inches shorter than the spray paint can when on all eight legs. The door slammed shut, I have no idea who did it but was glad they did. Retreating to the living room, we all did our best to shrug off the evil that had entranced us.

We all spent the next twenty minutes sitting on couches or chairs with our feet off the floor. Backs beginning to shriek with tension and muscle spasms- we (all but Alan and my folks) lept into the van and drove home in a mad rush.
Giggling the entire way, we shuddered convulsively and swiped at microscopic dead skin cells that felt like little creepy crawlies. It was a long uneasy evening.


Mama spider was in the garage going over her baby roster, "118. 118?"
"Here Mommy!"
"There you are. Did you eat the newborn twin humans up the road?"
"Yes Mommy."
"Good. 119?"
"Here."
"120?"
"He's out on the town eating stray dogs."
"Thanks 243. 121?.....121? Has anyone seen 121?"
"Mom. He's trying to freak out some tourists."
"Huh." she scoffed, "If they think little runt 121 is scary they should see Mommy when she gets her silk thread in a bunch."