A couple pictures from the get-together of the three wise women.
P.S. After posting the photo of Claire with the oversized beetle, complete with ungainly serrating mandibles, I've gotten a few questions about my parenting skills (everyone loves backseat drivers). So, to comply, here's a picture that we took tonight of Claire with a much more docile critter. Just your garden variety locust. I'd never had the chance to examine one closely before. I'm tempted to think our pioneer ancestors were a little prejudiced. They're not too bad looking--locusts, that is. This will be the last of the bug shots for awhile, unless something really impressive comes along.
29 comments:
if that third picture doesn't make you at least smile, you need to refill the lithium. but, cicada?
Why not cicada?
"Cicadas do not bite or sting, and are generally benign to humans. [Indeed they may be regarded as the most splendid of pets. Furthermore, parents who don't stick one on the face of their child are guilty of negligence and should be summarily horse whipped.]" --Wikipedia (the scholarliest of journals)
I was just saying, you called it a locust. Have you been internalizing the the Revelations of St. John again?
Eternal suckism. I thought that's maybe what you meant. You're right. It's a cicada. Keep in mind though, that in many regions, KY being one, the terms, while not technically equal, are dialectically interchangeable.
In other words, I'm a fool.
Aw amigo. You're no fool--far from it. I am just a real stickler for entomological casualisms...what can I say. The picture is a keeper, and that is what matters.
Why thank you, my lad.
By the way, does your entomological knowledge stem from any formal training or have you picked it up out of self-directed interest? Either way, you're rather buggy, which is a good thing.
Do you say "bugger me" often, perchance? If not, please start.
I can't believe you boys are fighting over this. All I can say is: my past experience with cicadas have included one completely hot and humid afternoon in a Tokyo park where somewhere around forty-five thousand cicadas were mating and loving each other and fighting over each other and all I could hear was the strumming beat of their burrrs and whirrrrs and suddenly I realized my heartbeat had begun to match theirs and it was as if I was being called to them, that I WAS a cicada, that this was my home. But before I could completely climb over the fence and into their swarms, my Japanese companion hit me over the head several times with a hardback BOM and called me a baka. Which means fool. Which makes three of us.
Who's fighting? Nobody's fighting. Watch it, BT.
Did you ever make it home?
Though Charity should be the one to tell you this? We really had a lousy time without you--skinny dipping, canoeing, and fishing all afternoon, and of course thinking of you every minute with deep empathy.
I love visits from Charity, and I like your sister also. Finally figured out the family connections. (They explain it better than Jaren.) The only problem was "time". We just didn't have enough--partly because they asked directions from location-challenged Em who told them to turn at the 2nd road past the river as soon as they saw "Bonneville" county road sign. Soooo, when they called us from the "County Road Line"-- after coming north again from IF where they'd gone to search for Bonneville county--asking where Rigby was, I tried to wrestle the phone from Em, since it's only been on her last two visits (after 350) that she hasn't had to call me from Rigby and ask what road to turn on after the exit.
Ah, but the girl's a treat and blessing to me. She just left, Jaren, and I hope she took everything with her, or she asks me to mail stuff to her. One time it took me three months to mail her make-up to Logan. In fact, I think I finally just sent her money to buy new stuff. I have hard times with the trivia parts of life--like post offices, grocery stores, gas stations, hence the main reason I sent Em to buy the groceries on Sat. Again, I had to draw her a map showing her how to get through the thriving metropolus of Rigby--though we argued about turning right instead of left for 20 minutes. I drew N. and S. on the stupid map, before I realized that--truly--if she turned left she'd run into a cement barricade separting her from Hyway 20. Excuse clichee, but it's blind leading blind when we're together. Yep, she just bopped back in to get phone charger. I knew it.
OK, I need that last post back to spell check, but can't figure out how, so suffer through.
Also, guess who just called and wants me to mail her computer charger, though she didn't have the nerve to ask me. She said--purring with sweetness--"Do you think you could have Megan mail my computer charger?"
By skinny dipping, canoing, and fishing, I assume you mean sitting around doing nothing talking girl crap. Still, I'm sure it was fun.
you flatter me, G. I have just always loved the bugs. I grew up in the bug-rich wilds of Arizona, reading insect field guides and Gerald Durrell. *offers hand to shake*
Em--have you ever seen the film Lucas? You are like an older, female-r Lucas.
JG, when referring to Emily, could you please call her by her proper name, namely, BT?
I am on the slo-boat today..is BT "Butt Taco"?
Help.
None other.
I guess a list would be helpful for all.
JG = Joe
JW = Jaren
BT = Emily
JB = James
S&M = Sharon
Anyone else wishing to join the mini-moniker gang, feel free. Cost of membership is merely an initialized nickname, the wearing of a monocle, the playing of a kazoo, and emasculation for males. (We've got to keep out the riffraff somehow.)
S&M = without price. (that is, the initials and who they belong to...and lets face it: the practice of it)
S&M haha. Fitting. I think smoking jackets should be requisite as well.
JG: I will rent Lucas. I'm curious to see my male identity.
JW, you have ended my days. My little brother is reading over my shoulder whilst practicing Sweet Child-o-Mine via electric guitar and is now set and bound to call me Butt Taco until our hairs are gray. Damn you, Jaren Watson. Damn you to the seventh circle. It is only fair that from this day forth, you shall be known as Patty. As in, Patty Mabootie Sivooplay. Or rather, PMS.
Joe, you must help me. I forgot about your extensive knowledge of the AZ insectivora. There is a mahogany stink bug that enjoys the sycamore trees and shoots cinnamon-tasting aldehyde into one's mouth when placed on the tongue. Do you know it??????
and to anticipate any sharp quips from the likes of you all: no, not everything I come in contact with ends up on my tongue.
BT: About your final posting--that's too bad. I'm sure your date calendar could have been pretty full otherwise.
About the other--PMS is fine by me.
Sorry about your brother. Siblings are like that.
BT: I know they eat minty beetles called "jumiles" down in mexico, but I don't know if the beetles make it up to Arizona. Probably a relative. I know that where I lived, there were Pinacate beetles everywhere (locals called them clown beetles), but I don't remember them smelling of cinnamon..i do remember them smelling like rear.
Well, I don't know....maybe 8 days of showerless wilderness makes rear taste like cinnamon. Still, I never thought going to the bathroom smelled any different than usual. I have heard of people in survival situations drinking their own urine (which really is counter-productive...too much saline).
And FYI, every time somebody calls me BT, an angel rips the wings off of another angel and sucks out its soul.
I love the angel ripping, Em. (By the way, you also left your Levis and Sunday clothes, so you'd better ask sweet daughter Meg if she'd mail those to you along with the charger.) And is S&M sado- masochist or "Sweet & Modest"? Sweet and Modest, right?
Jaren, I swear, we had a lot of fun without you. Charity is quick, witty, and very intelligent. Our talk was so furiously brilliant that fish were jumping into the canoe to hear better. Plus, neither you nor Em told us that sucking on the frog killed him. How sad. So, so sad. By the way, explanation of visit picture: I was complaining that I'm always the short one amongst tall long-legged beauties; thus both C. and E cut off their legs immediately to stop my stereo-typing.
BT: I can't begin to tell you how happy I am about BT.
S&M: Boy, if I had a dollar for every time I heard "I swear, we had a lot of fun without you."
Frog: Sorry sport, but I don't blame you for dying. Going from the pit of hell (BT's mouth) to nectar of the gods (mine) is one whale of a shock. No wonder your wee ticker couldn't take it.
PMS: I hope you have nightmares about being an angel with bloody wing stubs getting your soul sucked.
S&M: I know....I realized my life was a shambles once I hit Pocatello. I'm raising quite a bill in packaging. My friend T was thinking about dropping into Provo this weekend and I was going to make him pick it all up, but he's since changed his mind because I made him angry and he "got busy." SO. I can either ask Sweet Meg to mail it and bill me OR I can just come up some other day before I die and pick it all up. A few weeks without my laptop won't KILL me.........will it? ......will it?
BT: I have been having those dreams since I was six. Ain't no thing.
Em, come up and go camping. I'm headed out with a load of books on July 26th for a couple of weeks. But, you're not borrowing my fishing license. Get your own. And your life is not in shambles. Look how far you've come from drawing perfect eggs on my classroom blackboard? The image of that little boy running out of Sacrament is the perfect symbol for you. Remember? Why was he so furious with himself? What name couldn't he think of? . . .
Okay, yes, camping. July 26 sounds just perfect. I'm almost done cleaning my room.....I think it's helped. There's something about organizing and throwing away and re-establishing material objects that helps clear out the metaphysical cluttering as well. I've decided I need bookshelves desperately.
I never thought that I would hear/see these words come from you. "I'm almost done cleaning my room.....I think it's helped." Wow. You really have changed.
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