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[Gene GeRue <genegerue AT ruralize.com>]

One price paid to be two blocks from a mountain preserve is  
scorpions. Over the three years we have had this Phoenix house I have  
squished perhaps a hundred of them. While tuning up the fountain out  
front yesterday I was stung by a little scorpion, perhaps three- 
quarters of an inch long. Chris is fearful of the little nasties so I  
have long told her that the sting is about like a bee sting,  
certainly no worse than the paper wasps at Heartwood. Wrong.

Serious discomfort traveled from the forefinger tip sting site up the  
finger, into the adjoining knuckle, up the hand and the arm. It  
stopped before the elbow. This got my attention sufficiently to do a  
bit of Googling. I was relieved to read that no one here has died  
from such a sting in the last forty years. The guy that nailed me is  
called the Bark Scorpion and is considered dangerous to small  
children and old people.

This morning, about eighteen hours later, the end of the finger is  
numb and is making typing awkward. So I'll stop.

Bottom line: take scorpions seriously.