08.04.2004 - 12:17 p.m.

The reply:

My life is going well.

I don�t think we have much to catch up on, and I don�t know where I�ll be that week anyway, but have a nice visit.

After staring at it for several hours, I can�t even tell if it�s direct enough, or polite enough, or firm enough. After several hours even that word, enough, doesn�t make any sense. I don�t know what enough is, but the email is sent, and perhaps it will earn me the rest of the year�s peace.

(An aside: My forehead is peeling. I exposed it when I put my hair in a ponytail in San Francisco because it was too windy to leave it down. It was also cold. And cloudy. Now, my brother is a redhead, with very pale skin. At one point on the vacation, on a hike, the sun suddenly came out. His instinctual reaction was to put his arms up to defend himself and cower behind them until Mom brought the backpack with the sunscreen. He even hissed at the light. He must always have sunscreen, even on cloudy days, or the sun will turn him into a lobster, but it has never happened to me before except in actual direct sun. This is the source of my indignance�how was I to know? Thus, I do not have dandruff. I have a peeling scalp. Teasing persons shall be flogged.)

Finally, there is a spider living on my car. He�s dime-sized or a little smaller, orangy-brown with tan stripes on his legs. I noticed him hiding in my side mirror on the drive home Monday, gathering up his thrumming web. He was still there on Tuesday morning, a complete web spanning between the edges of the mirror to the near side of the handle. He seems to be an orb weaver, one of those exceptionally detailed spiral-makers. I opened the door carefully to get by him, then drove very, very smoothly to work. The drive is eight miles of residential/rural road, most of it spent at 50 or so; by the time I reached the parking lot he was gathering his web again, starting anew. I read somewhere once that spider silk is one of the stronger substances on earth, but I guess when it gets vibrated like that it loses its tautness or sticks to itself or something. San Francisco must be hard on spiders.

I was astounded to see the spider still there when I left work yesterday, again set in the center of a perfect web, this time anchored not only on the mirror and handle but also lower down on the side of the door.

�I don�t think that�s going to work,� I cautioned the spider.

The spider shifted one of its legs.

�I can�t stay here tonight, I have to drive home,� I added, leaning closer to admire the extent of those spiral rows.

The spider shrunk back towards his haven behind the mirror.

�But it�s a beautiful web,� I told it, consolingly. I got into the car and closed the door so softly that it barely latched, the spider crawled up to its hideout, and I drove home slowly and smoothly and helpless as the wind tore at the silk on my door.

There was no web this morning, but I am glad to know that it is not just me, or even just humans. Creatures of all shapes and sizes are possessed to build beautiful things where they�ve no earthly chance of surviving.

-stonebridge

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