Or, perhaps, not so very little at all...? Before Saturday evening, when Jacob, Julia, and I wandered into the hills of Griffith Park, I was blissfully unaware that we even had tarantulas in California. Let me stress that- blissfullyunaware. That spider, waiting right there at the edge of the trail, was so freak-show huge that I was able to put myself into some kind of mind-body disconnect and get close enough to it to put my water bottle in the picture for scale. The fact that I was able to do so, without running away screaming and crying, means two things:
1) I have clearly (and unknowingly) experienced some huge personal growth in the phobia department.
2) I was quite winded from having walked up the beginning part of the trail twice and could bear the thought of running down the hill (forget running up- the whole quite winded thing) and then having to hike it again once I had calmed down.
I like to think of that misty grey as "haze" rather than smog. If I wasn't from the Bay Area, I would get extra romantic and call it fog- but I know better. Fog it isn't. Julia pointed out that if I call it haze, it just sounds like a particularly lovely yarn, and thus couldn't possibly be harmful, right... right?