Last weekend while wrapping up the campfire I saw something move in my lower peripheral.
It was too dark to make it out clearly but through the use of modern technology I am able to bring it to you in all of it’s evolutionary glory.

A little closer shall we?

And from the backside?

This, my fair reader, is a Mygalomorph spider – in Federal Way.
He is lumped into a family of spiders commonly referred to as Trapdoor Spiders and belongs to the same SubOrder (Mygalomorphae) as the more well known Tarantulas.
From my limited experience with Tarantulas (i.e., none) he looks JUST LIKE ONE.
His Genus is almost certainly Bothriocyrtum but maybe Ummidia. I guess Bothriocyrtum based on the locale of these other pictures on Bugguide.com.

But…before you go getting all itchy and twitchy, this little fella, lets call him TwoBits, wasn’t very big. TwoBits could have probably made camp on a quarter.

You know what though, that sure looks like an awfully big quarter to me and TwoBits sure moved like a Tarantula.

Anyway, before you really come undone (on our behalf), we have a tent, with mostly good zippers so it’s all good.

You may notice in passing, as I did, that there isn’t much room left in there for a meaty guy like me?
I would certainly suffer a lot of welts if I tried to throw one of them out. [Ever tried to throw a cat in a lake? Yeah - same thing.]
OR
I would lose some function or other for the better part of a day if I tried to wedge myself in.
SO
TwoBits and I were shacking up. Now, it’s not my fault that I am the biggest and the strongest and as I am keenly aware of that I felt somewhat compelled to persuade TwoBits that I was right – if only for the night. I was sure an agreement could be reached.

After showing off my aggrandizing pictures to three inquiring minds…

What Daddy?
Daddy, what is “oh wow”?
Why did you say “oh wow” Daddy?
What was that?
What was that flash for Daddy?
What are you taking a picture of Daddy?

A spider.

I wanna see the spider!
Gimmee see!

…I quickly returned to exert my presence with authority and to persuade TwoBits that greener pastures were further away from my sleeping bag than he might think possible only to..find…him……..gone.

Dang he was quick when he wanted to be.

So, I put out the fire and went to bed; And I slept pretty soundly too.

I have a thing for just being and doing stuff in extreme weather. Not crazy stuff really, I don’t go searching it out like a tornado hunter or anything, but I like to say “I did X on the coldest/hottest/rainiest/windiest/snowiest day EVARRRRR.”

When I was in Sweden I made sure and stayed up until 00:00 to go out and be in the coldest weather I have ever been in. If memory serves, it was -39˚C (also just about -39˚F). My ears felt like they nearly froze off of my head. I could hear the ice freezing in the trees and popping their limbs.

I rode my motorcycle home from Highline on the Inauguration day wind storm in 1992(?).
I rode my bike home in the drifts of snow last winter and to work in -19˚C windchill

and today…drum roll please…

I can honestly say I rode home on the hottest day EVARRRR in Seattle.
According to the Record Alert on WeatherUnderground site SeaTac reached 39.4˚C (103˚F) today and on that same site I saw Renton Hill reporting 41.2˚C (106˚F) this afternoon at about 4PM.

Okay but how does it FEEL?

The best explanation is by way of my water bottle.
By the time I hit Marginal Way (I had an errand in SoDo that forced me into my least desirable return route) my water bottle that started full of ice was completely melted (it didn’t rattle anymore when I shook it) and it didn’t have any more condensation on the outside.

By the time I hit Tukwila (BECU) it was body temp – I couldn’t feel it’s temperature as I drank.

And the last swigs I took in East Renton tasted like plastic soup.

The good news is that on a bike there is almost always a nice breeze in your face.
As hot as it was (and still is)…I like it.

lit·er·al·ism: n. Adherence to the explicit sense of a given text or doctrine.

In swimming lessons recently WeeOne was getting used to having her face in the water. She isn’t afraid of it really, she and her mer-sister dunk their faces in all the time. In fact, WeeOne has always been more comfortable with water on her face than LaGrande,

BUT

She is three now and if she isn’t (is?) in the mood, she interprets instructions very literally: sometimes honestly and occasionally, and even successfully, as an escape. We may never know her motivations on this day but literalism mode was on.

The instructor put the front of her own face in the water, blew some bubbles, came up for air and said:

Okay ladies, it’s time to get our noses wet!

With these ‘clear’ instructions WeeOne promptly dabbed her free hand into the pool, brought it up to her face, and patted her nose until wet. Next.