Nature Thinks I'm a Monster.

There is a place near my home that has lovely woods, cool breezes, a creek and lots of nature.
I go there every day to walk the trails, watch the dogs play in the creek and just enjoy being outdoors.
The woods are peaceful.
The earth is nurturing
Nature is my friend.......until it bites me.
Then, I am a merciless, outraged, "Don't mess with me, nature", monster.

For the last week or so, only the portal to hell would seem sightly warmer than the town where I live.
Most humans are sweaty and irritable, air conditioners are blasting, most critters are hiding in the shade, and the insects......are having a bug wingding!!
They love it!
They are in your face, in your eyes, up your pants leg, biting my dogs, biting me, sucking our blood and apparently getting back at humans for one too many swats of the flyswatter.

The mosquitos possess hypodermic beaks and wing silencers for stealth sucking.
The gnats are suicide bombers aiming directly for your eyeballs.
Some of the deer and horse flies are so large they almost need landing gear and runways or they
could quite possibly replace Santa's reindeer in a pinch.
I have been swatting, smacking and scratching for days.
I am a giant itch.

As a result, there has been NO regret or remorse in the annihalation of these insects anytime they come near me.
So when we visit the woods these days, there is excercise and play, as well as death and destruction.
Today however, I saw, this little thing on me and did not immediately kill it. (See below)


The Sofa Foam bug.

It was in a hurry to get somewhere and I watched it scurry around.
I thought at first that it was an ant carrying something, because it kinda looked like a moving piece of old sofa foam.
(Old sofas follow me around from house to house so I am kind of an expert)
But no, this was no ant.
His tiny little legs matched his 'sofa foam' covering perfectly.


The Sofa Foam bugs little legs.

Curious, I watched for quite a while.
It was scurrying cutely around on my denim and then crawled down my leg, stopped for a minute on my knee to look around (or so I thought) and then.....bit me!!
Without a second wasted, I swatted it off and squished it.
No hesitation and no mercy was given.
Thinking that I would now come down with some foreign disease and die in 10 minutes, I had to find out what kind of bug it was.
I looked it up on my smart-aleck phone.

Dadgummitt....

I had squished a Green Lacewing baby bug.
This one was going to grow into a 'beneficial' bug.
The ones that are allowed to become adults eat the bad guy bugs.
Was this youngster practicing on me?
We will never know.
I felt horrible.
It was a reflex!?
A case of mistaken...no...not looked up before squishing, identity?
Who's side am I on?



Sofa Foam Bug. Adult
(Green Lacewing)

I was a monster today.
I am a bug super-villain now.
I am sure mother nature will send out the bug 'avengers' tomorrow and they will open a can of 'whoop-itch' on me.
But I will now, educatedly, use my monster super powers.
Big feet, fast hands and my big old trusty flyswatter.


Thanks for being here.


p.s. Being a lover of science, I must clarify that I was actually not bitten. There were pincers involved. The outcome would have remained the same, I am fated to say.

s l o w l y....I....g e t.....it......

The other day as I was driving around completing some errands on my list, I came upon on a turtle crossing the road.
He was in the oncoming traffic lane pumping his little legs quite fast, like he was practicing his cheetah moves.
'He' because if he was a she, I was unable to detect toenail polish for summer feet as I drove by and gender is not something easily or accurately detected otherwise.
Anyway, I was worried for him - for I am a turtle rescuer - and I wanted to stop, pick him up and put him in the woods in the direction he was going, but I live in the mountains.
In the mountains there is usually a hill up one side of the road that is 45 degrees or more and a steep drop off on the other. A cliff, shall we say?
That is where the turtle and I were.
No place to pull over and no stopping in the road cause we (he and I) were in a sharp curve, in the mountains, in the woods, in the late afternoon, on a mostly busy road.
Dang it.
So I kept driving, saying a quick prayer for his little turtle brain. A prayer that he would tell himself repeatedly to "Keep moving quickly and cross this dang road!"
I truly pondered finding an alternate route home so I would not have to see his cute little reptilian body squished on the pavement.
THAT is the kind of confidence I have in my turtle prayers.


Not my turtle.

As I continued my journey, I started thinking of the people who might run over him and I got madder and madder and MADDER!
"Who would kill a poor turtle?"
"They can't help being slow!"
"You are a mean person and I hate you!"
"No, you're not mean, you are, a bully!!"
"A dadgum Bully! And I hate you even more!"
"You probably go out of your way to kill opossums and other woodland creatures! Maybe even swerving to hit stray dogs and kill yard birds scratching by the road."
"I am blaming all the roadkill in the world on you!"

My jaw was clenched and I'm sure my blood pressure had soared.

Then I got angry at the turtle for making me feel so helpless!
"I did not need to see you."
"Why didn't you cross at some other time of day?"
"Why here of all places?"
"What the heck do you need over there?"
"I don't want to see you dead.
"Don't do this to me!!"

AAAaaaaarrrrggghhhhhh.............

OK. So now I'm at my destination.
The incident is put to the back of my brain and soon, poof, I don't think of it at all.......
Except, as I pass the 'turtle zone' on the way home, because I forgot the alternate route.........
Dang it!

?????????????????

No turtle!!
No squishings!!
No spots on the road!!
He made it!!!

I was mad for no reason!
He was a smart turtle and people are good!
No killing today!

I arrive home in a great and elated mood.
Now, what should I have for dinner?
Chicken, beef or ......?

Dang it....

Thanks for being here.
Have a non-death kind of day!

And then........

This weekend was an interesting yet painful one for me.
Interesting because I actually drove myself to a social event.....with other people......on purpose.
Painful because I injured myself by just trying to mingle.

I am not what anyone would call a social butterfly.
Social situations create in me a panic that is very similar to a Freddy Krueger nightmare.
So I rarely attend anything.
Weddings have to be a close relative or best friend.
Funerals have to be a closer relative or best-er friend.
Birthday Parties have to have really good cake and pinatas full of money.
Just kidding.
The birthdays have to be mine.

But I needed to be at this party as a show of respect for someone I have known for a long time and think is fabulous.
I also needed to be there because I am old and need at least a couple of friends that can eventually come to my funeral.
Just kidding.
They are not my friends.
They are people I work with.
Just kidding.
They are friends now because they talked to me at the party and no one was clocked in!

Well things were going divinely and my panic had subsided a bit.
There was a lot of chatting and laughing and house tours and catching up with folks I rarely get to work with.
There was good food and...."no pictures, I was never here!".....picture taking, playing horseshoes, and lots of beverage drinking.

I had water.

After a fun time, that lasted longer than I had alloted or expected, I was getting ready to go, thank my hosts and say goodbye to the honoree when I got up, turned, took 3 steps and then..... SLAMMO..... right into a sliding glass door.
In my defense, the door had been wide open almost all of the evening, closed partially once early on but I saw it that time, but apparently completely closed and camouflaged this time.
It was waiting for me this time.
It had my face print on the glass this time.

My co-workers were very kind and thoughtful about helping me after they caught their breath from laughing hysterically and commenting how they wished they had had their "phone ready for that".
I was fine, but in that moment I understood why old people stay at home, eat early and go to bed at sundown.
I understood the appeal of BINGO where you just sit and look at numbers on a card.
I understood that growing old has a learning curve and must be done s l o w l y.
Social situations are just too awkward, dangerous and potentially embarassing.

Did I mention I only drank water?
Maybe I should start drinking intoxicants so at least I would have an excuse.

So if you are having a celebration in the future, I will be thinking of you from far away and wishing you the very best, but I will not attend.
Unless you need entertainment......then we can talk.



Thanks for being here.

Movin' South.

Sorry to disappoint you, but this post is not about going to Florida or aging in the tropics somewhere.
Spoiler.....
This post is about body parts that sojourn to new places as we age. So if you are squeamish and don't want to read about 'boobs' than check out Todays Deal on Amazon or view something on attackofthecute.com.
Just stop reading now and save yourself from the bug eyed fear and daytime nightmares that my words might induce.

My 'mammary glands' have been a large part of my life since 5th grade, when I got my first bra.
Training bra.
No problem.
Training them to do what at 11 years old, I do not know.
Still no problem really.

But they kept growing.
I was warned/told/reminded that I must continue to wear a bra every day or my 'breasts' would get saggy, with an implication that they would then not be useful.
While they were not huge, they were hefty, defying logic and remaining in the place where boobs are supposed to be even when I took off my mammary protector.
So I wore a bra daily.
Unnecessarily in those days but blindingly obedient,
I had to protect them.
They had important jobs to do in the future!

My anatomically correct boobs did their job in those early years apparently, by helping to attract a lovely husband (35 years this year!) and then nourishing 4 healthy, happy babies.
The wearing of the bra paid off I guess.

But I am here to tell you that once the 'boob-job' is over..... they move south.
Just like old people from Ohio.
They will move there regardless of your previous, young, futile efforts.
No bra, no verbal threat, no lotion, no praying, will save you.
They are not just visiting either.
They have put on a few pounds, during the years and they want to stay there, in the south.
This fact makes any bra feel like a torture chamber.

So since my 'bosoms' have had a long, productive life and want to travel now and see the rest of my body, I have decided to let them be free.
I wear a brassiere as little as possible. After all, they've been cooped up in that uncomfortable contraption for 45 years.
They deserve that freedom.
A bra is kind of like punishing them for good behavior and they do not deserve that.

If you're like me, you now have a weird visual of this and you're making a scrunchy face. I do apologize, but I had to get this off my chest. Almost literally.
My sister will never understand. She will be adorable and perky when she is 105.
But big busted girls will understand.

Today is a bra-less day.

I always wear a bra in public, so don't worry.
Some things have moved south but not my sense of decency and civil responsibility.

So anyway..... this is part of my world and hopefully I have been able to help you see where I'm coming from.

Now I worry that when you see me at the store or on the street.......my eyes are up here........WAY up here, you will wonder which day it is........


Thanks for being here.