You lead such the life of adventure. I love it. I believe you ARE a farmer, or at least and egg farmer. If nothing else, by default of chores and chasing addled chooks. And I'm glad you have a hubs to do the dirty work. We always joke about that around this farm. What good would I be, without a lawn mower, and opening jars and such. (T.I.C., of course). I know I'm good for more than that. There's fixing, then using the weedeater too ( :

You have some impressive spiders there in FLA. Those things do give even the staunchest nature lover a quick twist, when spotted first off. I think it's brainstem, from about 8 million years ago, when the goofy things weighed in at about 148 pounds and took down small (now huge, by our standard) rodents. Yikes. Though I knew a guy from South America somewhere, that swore they had spiders big enough to eat chickens. So, be glad you don't have THOSE. Whitey would be toast. (I think you need a kitty water spray bottle for her. Works great spritzing the cats, and a chicken has an even tinier brain. (is that a real word...tineir? Tiny-er, I guess.) Well, hope you have a nice weekend, and Whitey re-surfaced from the woods. I'm with hubs, survival of the fit. And hopefully Whitey fits that bill. As Darwin wrote years back, "don't write a check in the deep dark woods, you cannot cash in the morning light." Or something to that effect. It's been a long time since school... Cheers tooya