Theory Number One: The Tick Bites. When I was young I lived in 2 school buses parked side-by-side for a little while – have I not mentioned that before? Well, it is one of my absolute favorite memories from my childhood, but that is another story altogether. So these two school buses and subsequent mobile home and subsequent 5000 sq. foot log cabin were plunked down on 2 beautiful acres in the middle of rural PA. There was a long dirt road leading to a gravel driveway winding softly around a massive, deep ravine. The ravine was filled with adventure and excitement for an inquisitive and pioneering 7 year old. Above the buses rose a big hill crested by a grove of pine trees in which we built a tree house and played tag along the very tops of the trees till we moved when I was 12. Ticks were a part of everyday life. Those of you who have lived in regions similar to this know the nightly ritual – strip down and mom checks you head to toe for these tiny vampires. According to my momma, more often than not she would find a few crawling around on me (um, I just threw up a little in my mouth,) and at least once a week there was one of those little stinkers with – as per Wikipedia – “its chelicerae (cutting mandibles) and hypostome (feeding tube) inserted into [my] skin. The hypostome is covered with recurved teeth that serve as an anchor.” Okay, gross, gross, gross! I warned you buckle your seatbelt for this one. Now that you have puked all over your computer, let us continue.
Theory Number Two: The Spider Bites. In October 2006, I lay sound asleep, snuggled deep under the pure white covers in my cozy king size bed in my beautiful suite at the Comfort Inn in
. (sorry Comfort Inn, but this is a true story) My sweet friend Robin lay on the other side of the bed. There were 5 of us there for a fitness conference. Apparently I called dibs on the wrong bed. Now how this little guy chose me and not Robin, I’m not sure. Maybe my legs looked juicier in the dim light under the covers. Maybe he liked my toenail polish better. (Don't they say that the color red makes people hungry?) Maybe my soap smelled more appetizing than hers…..whatever the case may be, he picked my leg. And as I lay sleeping, peacefully unaware of the meal that was being eaten at my expense, that itsy, bitsy, teeny, weeny, yellow polka dot ,…..oh, wait that’s another story…..that little arachnid pulled up a comfy armchair, tied one of those big plastic lobster bibs around his neck, so as not to spill anything succulent down the front of his violin embroidered tuxedo, and dug in. Twice. Charlotte, NC
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