Out of My Mind
A modest collection of uncommon thoughts about common things
Launch date July 2, 2010
Out of My Mind A modest collection of uncommon thoughts about common things Launch date July 2, 2010 |
Editor's Note: Scroll down to see more of Karen's writings. The 'Intro' piece will always be first. |
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Posted July 17, 2010 This is the first of three in a series.  |
Editor's Note: Scroll down and read "Dad's Bathtub Adventure" before reading this.  |
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 Today I trimmed the grass around the Spirrea bushes out front. I had to wait until after the evening meal because it has been too hot The snake was a small hog nose; the toad was, well a toad; the slugs Good thing I love nature and all that goes with it. |
Here is something I wrote for my granddaughter stationed in Korea (after she told me about this horrible spider dropping out of a tree on her): |
 This is what I wrote for Logan (still working on the art) Grammy’s Little Green Frog Story for Logan One day, not so long ago, a curly headed little boy named Logan was quickly climbing a long set of stairs. These stairs led from his back yard to the deck at the rear of his home. He was half humming, half singing a little song he learned when he was just a baby. He had his right hand stuck deep into his right pocket. Logan was hurrying up the stairs because he wanted to get into the house before Daddy. You see, Logan had a secret, and that secret needed to be taken to the upstairs bathtub (as soon as possible). Only two problems, Daddy was right behind him and Mommy was at the kitchen sink finishing up the dinner dishes. The third problem, his sister, Shay, was somewhere in the house and could easily spoil his secret. Logan stepped into the kitchen and started for the stairs to the upstairs bathroom. “Not so fast, young man,” Mommy said. “You need to wash your hands first.” Logan, looked at the floor, dug the toe of his shoes into the rug and uttered, “Awh, mannnnn.” Not wanting to bring attention to the treasure in his pocket Logan raced to the bathroom and quickly washed his hands. He no sooner had he left the bathroom Daddy scooped Logan up in his arms, over his head and carried him off to the family room. Mommy and Shay were already there, waiting to start family movie night. Because of the horseplay with Daddy, Logan had forgotten about the “thing” in his pocket. He flopped down on the couch, laughing, and turned his attention to the television. Suddenly, Logan sat straight up and put his hand into his right pocket. It was empty. He put his hand in the left pocket. It was empty too. Under his breath Logan uttered a small, “Oh-oh! Mommy, Daddy, and Shay all looked at each other because they knew that right after Logan said, “Oh-oh!” something HAD happened or was about to happen. In Mommy’s mind was the memory of the “Oh-oh,” Logan had said just before he accidentally dumped a full bottle of apple juice onto the breakfast bar, down onto the counter top, and off onto the floor. Daddy was remembering the time Logan was standing on his chair at the dinner table. The chair suddenly slipped from under his feet. Logan uttered, “Oh-oh,” just before he flopped belly first into the large pizza in the middle of the table. Shay was remembering the time Logan came running past her and grabbed at a doll she was holding. He looked in his hand and said, “Oh-oh,’ because he had accidentally pulled the head off of Shay’s doll. Logan jumped up and started looking around on the couch. He picked up the pillows and looked under the couch. He started looking all around the floor and under the coffee table. Mommy raised her eyebrow, Shay rolled her eyes, and Daddy said, “What you looking for, buddy?” Logan replied, “Nuttin.” Mommy could clearly see Logan was almost frantic in his search and offered to help. But, Logan didn’t want any help. He wanted his secret to be just that, a secret. Daddy, then made a comment that made Logan freeze. “Hey, buddy, is that what you are looking for?” Logan made his eyes follow in the direction Daddy’s finger was pointing (as did Mommy and Shay). Half way up the wall, behind the television, was a small, shinny, green, tree frog. Logan bounded off the couch, but the frog was way too high for Logan to grab it. Mommy was laughing as Daddy moved to the wall to catch the small frog. However, the frog had a different idea. Just as Daddy reached out the frog pushed off and flew across the room to the coffee table. Both Shay and Mommy squealed. Logan dove for the frog in a fashion of a football player grabbing for a fumbled ball. This caused the frog to launch itself again. Only, this time, it landed squarely on top of Shay’s curly head. Shay let out a shriek (that could have called dolphins for miles away) and started shaking her head saying, “Mommy, get it off! Get it off! Mommy, (while cracking up laughing) reached for the frog and it launched itself again. Off toward the bookcases it went. Shay was still pulling at her hair saying,” Ewuuuu” while Daddy and Logan started searching the bookcases. Mommy was still laughing. In the mean time Yankee, the family’s trusting Labrador had joined what he saw as a great game. He was barking and scampering around while trying to figure out the object of the game. As Daddy reached the second bookcase the frog flew off in the direction of Yankee. With a flying leap the dog quickly figured out the object of the game and caught the frog in his mouth! Logan caught his breath. Shay cried, “Ewuuuu,” again. Mommy screamed, “Yankee, No!” Daddy, said “Nice catch, boy!” Yankee quickly spit the frog out onto the rug after finding out that it tasted REALLY bad. Dad scooped the frog up and turned to face Logan. In fact everyone was looking at Logan, even the dog. Daddy handed the frog to Logan and asked, “What do you think we should do with the frog?’ Logan replied, “Put it outside.” Daddy said, “Good answer.” Daddy went on to ask, “And, what do you think you should do next?” Logan replied, “Clean up the mess we made.” Daddy said, “Good answer.” Then Daddy asked, “Do you think it is a good idea to bring wild animals into the house?” Logan replied, “No.” Logan knew what was coming so he took a big breath. “So, what are you going to do after you put the frog out and clean up this mess?” Logan replied, “ Go to bed?” Daddy said, “Good answer.” As he was following his dad’s orders, Logan could be heard saying a soft, “Awh, mannnnn,” as he headed upstairs. After Logan went to bed Daddy went into his room, sat down on the bed, thanked Logan for cleaning up the mess and going directly to bed. He then explained what might have happened to the frog if it hadn’t been found and why wild things needed to be left in the wild. Then Daddy said, “Whoa, Buddy, what’s that in your ear?” Daddy reached up and pulled a green rubber frog from behind Logan’s ear. Mommy and Shay had been watching from the door and they both laughed then came in and kissed him good night. You see, Logan has his oh-oh moments just like all of us, but his family loves him so very much, oh-oh moments and all. |
 GRAMMY’S LITTLE YELLOW DUCK STORY FOR SHAY Near a beautiful lake in the small Connecticut community of Oxford there lived two curly headed children named Shay and Logan. They had a gorgeous mommy, a handsome daddy and all kinds of grand parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who loved them very much. One summer morning when the sky was a brilliant blue, the clouds were a fluffy white, and the sun was a bright yellow; Shay was sitting at the edge of the lake which was not too far from her house. Mommy and Daddy were sitting on a grassy hill, which gently rose up from the lake. They were busy wiping chocolate ice cream off Logan’s Face. He was loudly protesting and squirming around in a Logan kind of way. Shay was sitting down by the water’s edge looking at the beautiful blue water. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from a clump of tall green grass just a few feet from where she was sitting. She tilted her head and listened closely. The noise sounded like a chirp, peep and a quack all rolled into one. She, also, heard small splashing sounds and saw tiny strands of grass moving back and forth. Shay looked back at her mommy and daddy (who were now tending to Logan’s smelly dyper). She then scooted closer to the tall grass, which grew down into the water and mingled with other lake grasses. The small little sounds stopped! Mommy and Daddy looked up the minute Shay moved because all parents know how the lakeshore is a very dangerous place for curious children. Daddy got to his feet and slowly walked toward Shay. She quickly put her finger to her lips and said, “Shhhhhh.” Silently, Daddy being Daddy, made a funny Daddy face, pulled his arms in, scrunched his body down, and snuck across the ground being as goofy as possible. Of course this made Shay smile and giggle. When he got to her side he crouched beside her and said in a soft Daddy voice, “What is it Pumpkin?” “I don’t know Daddy,” Shay replied, “listen.” Being the very best of the very best kind of daddies, he sat down beside her and listened. It wasn’t long before the little sounds started up again. He smiled, got up ever so slowly, went to the far side of the grassy spot, and peered down into the thicket. He smiled at what he saw, looked up at Shay, and with a twinkle in his green eyes he winked at her. Carefully, Daddy stepped into the grassy water and the sound changed into a loud, “Sqaaaacccckkkkk!” Out from their hiding place swam two small ducks as yellow as the sun in the sky. Shay’s brown eyes grew huge as she looked at the sweet little animals rushing away from the giant who had just invaded their hiding place. With excitement in her voice she said, “Ohhhh, Daddy, Loooook at the baby ducks. Aren’t they cute?” The ducklings had just barely cleared the grasses when they saw a smaller giant in a bright pink bathing suit. They put on their paddle foot breaks, bumped into each other, and uttered another, “Sqaaaacccckkkkk!” The two frightened ducklings spun around and scurried back into the tall protective grasses. Daddy stepped back so he wouldn’t frighten the ducklings further, moved back to Shay’s side, and sat. They both watched the tall grass and waited. Shay knew that she must be careful around all animals. Mommy and Daddy had taught her to be friendly, but cautious; to be kind and respectful; to be watchful but not touch. With an earnest look on her face Shay leaned into her daddy and whispered, “Where’s their Mommy and Daddy? They shouldn’t be out here all alone!” Daddy looked around as he said, “I don’t know, Pumpkin. They both should have come running as soon as their duckling called out.” The two of them sat there silently watching the tall grass; waiting for the little ducklings to get brave enough to come out again. Suddenly, like a stampeding herd of elephants, Logan came charging down the small hill. His big hazel eyes were full of excitement, and he was wearing a big smile (but NO clothes)! Mommy had been putting Logan’s orange swim pants on him when he heard the ducklings go, “Sqaaaacccckkkkk!” Logan squirmed away, jumped up, and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him toward the water’s edge. He tripped and fell flat on his face making a small “Uumph!” sound. Hardly missing a beat he got back up and galloped on yelling, “Duck, Duck,” (which actually sounded like, “Yuck, Yuck,” in Logan language). Mommy jumped up and ran after Logan saying, “Logee, come here you little stinker!” However, Logan ran on and squealed with delight with the idea of splashing into the water after the ducklings. Hearing the approaching disaster, both Daddy and Shay turned around. They both placed their fingers to their mouths and whispered, “Shhhhhh” as Logan thundered toward them. But, Logan was just being Logan, and quiet WAS NOT one of his qualities. The little ducklings were so very frightened by the unbelievable noise machine clamoring their way that they burst from their hiding place and swam into the lake away from the uproar. They screamed in a little duckling kind of way, “SQUAACKKKkkk! SQUAACKKKkkk! SQUAACKKKKkkk!” They jerkily paddled off into the deeper water: their little down covered bodies trembling from the fright. Suddenly from behind a bush, just down the shore, a flurry of activity erupted. Apparently it was the Mommy and Daddy of the little ducklings. They half flew, half swam straight toward the family of giants standing on the shore. Two sets of mad black eyes glared angrily. Two sets of white wings flapped furiously. Two sets of orange feet paddled quickly, and two sets of yellow beaks began to make their own loud noise (which was clearly not a happy one). A loud quacking sound pierced the air. Both rather large ducks had their necks stretched out so far that they looked like arrows, headed straight for the giant intruders. Mommy grabbed Logan up into her arms before he had a chance to get closer. He began to wail as he wanted to be closer to where the action was. Daddy sat calmly on the water’s edge. However, Shay had cautiously scooted behind Daddy. She was not certain what mad ducks might do. With a look of pure disgust toward Logan, Shay yelled, “LOGAN, BE QUIET! You are scaring the ducks.” Which scared the ducklings even more. Logan, being the best, of all best little brothers, really didn’t care at that point. All he wanted was to “GET DOWN! and GET THE DUCKS!” (which came out “Dow!” and “Get Yucks!” in Logan language). Mommy, carrying a wiggling, squealing Logan, moved away from the scurrying ducklings and their unhappy parents. She sat down behind Shay and Daddy while trying to explain to Logan how it would be more fun to watch the ducks than to frighten them away. But, Logan, being Logan, wasn’t buying it. The mommy duck calmed down as soon as she reach her babies and saw they were safe. The daddy duck still flapped his wings and made terrible noises toward the family. Apparently, the two little ducklings had been misplaced, or wandered off, because six other little ducklings were “Squacking” nervously close by. The mommy duck and the two lost ducklings quickly swam back to the brood. Daddy duck stayed behind for a minute making sure his family was safely away from harm. He then made one last quack toward the family of giants before he turned and swam away. Shay turned to her mommy and said, “I’m glad you and Daddy aren’t like that mommy and daddy. You would never go off and leave Logan and me alone!” Mommy being the best, of all possible best mommies, handed the still squirming Logan over to Daddy. Mommy took her sweet Shay in her arms and hugged her. Mommy brushed a kiss across Shay’s forehead and said, “No Sweetie, Daddy and I would never, Never, NEVER, DO THAT!” Shay then glared at Logan and scolded him again. But, Mommy said, “Shay you are Logan’s big sister, and you must be patient with him. He is not old enough to understand. It is your job to help us teach him to be nice around wild animals.” Shay looked into her Mother’s beautiful blue, love filled eyes and earnestly said, “Ok, Mommy. But, do you know what a REALLY hard job that’s going to be?” Mommy and Daddy laughed, scooped up both their children, and walked to the sandy beach (still laughing and smiling at each other). Both Shay and Logan looked over to the place where the ducks had disappeared. Shay was secretly wishing she could have held one. But, Logan was not so secretly wishing he could have chased one. Soon the ducks were forgotten as Mommy and Daddy played with Shay and Logan in the swimming area. But, later that night, when Shay went to bed, she said a little prayer: “God, please watch out for those little ducks, and make their mommy and daddy as good as mine! Amen.” The End? Not quite. There is never an end. Life goes on in one way or another. |
 Ok, so there I stood with my left foot in the bathroom sink, washing the mud off. I had been doing some light gardening in the front flowerbed and didn’t want to take a shower yet, since I wasn’t finished. It didn’t take much of an effort to get my foot up there after some minor (ok, major) assistance from my right and left hands. The problem became most evident when I tried to lift my foot out. It had easily slipped down into the bowl when I released it, but coming back up out of the bowl was another thing altogether (or so I found). I lifted and twisted, leaned and pulled, but the foot would not clear the rim of the bowl. I stood there for a few second assessing the problem and contemplating possible solutions. If I called (or rather yelled) to my dad he probably wouldn’t hear me. If he did hear me he would simply answer, “WHAT,” each time I called. And even if he did finally figure out that I needed him, how on earth could a 98 year old man be of any help? The first thing he would do is laugh (I know he would). The second thing that might happen is that we both might end up in a pile on the floor. No, this option wouldn’t do. Call 911 and instead of saying, “I’ve fallen and can’t get up,” I could tell them that I am a 68 year old woman with delusions of flexibility who has her foot in a bathroom sink and can’t get it up and out. No, this wouldn’t work as there isn’t a phone in the bathroom. Besides, I can see the headlines now, “A NEW ONE FOR THE ANNALS,” Lamar Emergency Management team responded to the home of Karen Taylor, age 6 . When the team arrived they found Ms. Taylor standing on one leg in the half bath of the home. Her father, William Taylor, was standing near by, grasping his walker and shuttering with laughter. When asked how this happened Ms. Taylor responded, “I was abducted by aliens and this is where they returned me!” Well scratch that idea. Can’t call my son same reasons as above (no phone in the bathroom and the peals of laughter which would be emanating from both my son and father). That leaves me with using my own wits. Now there’s a scary thought. It was these very “WITS” that put me in this predicament in the first place. But I went to work on a solution anyway! Couldn’t lean back onto the wall behind me because it was too far away, I might slip and fall (which could be my final desperate plan. If I slipped and fell to the floor then I could crawl to the phone, call 9ll and do the , “I’ve fallen… …” routine). I could try to crawl up onto the sink and then maneuver myself back down. No, the a broken neck is not an option, not to mention how on earth was I going to accomplish that trick? I had already pulled up on my ankle several times but my ham strings were jus not cooperating and my right leg was beginning to protest. I could just sit down and my leg and foot would follow. Ahhh, mannnnn! That would hurt! No way, keep thinking. Finally, I eyed the toilet stool. If I put down the lid, and somehow pulled and stepped up onto it with my right leg, I could simply step down with my left then right leg. Then visions of the splits, pulled down cabinet, and my damaged body lying on the floor stopped that insanity. Then suddenly, I got the idea to just lay my trousseau down onto the toilet and ease my foot and leg from their source of pain. IT WORKED! Not only that, my face being in close proximity with the toiled bowl alerted me to the fact that it needed to be cleaned, And, SOON! So much for the highlight of my week. The sad part is that I learned nothing from this fiasco. I quickly put my right foot in the bowl (since I knew I would be able to escape the same again). I was not going to let this small obstacle get an upper hand on me. I washed my right foot and then sat down to consider what this all meant.I know it has something to do with DENIAL. Yes, I am getting older and the things I used to do as a kid are no longer possible. Yes, I could have opted to go into the other bathroom and wash my feet in the tub. Yes, the sink was a dumb idea. And, yes, my back and legs are aching right now. So if I agree with all of these comments how can I be in denial? Easy, I did it without thinking in the first place. Then I did it again….If that’s not denial then I don’t know what is. So what am I going to do now? Clean the toilet, of course. Maybe, if the toilet is clean I could use it to wash my feet… … …Nawh! |
 I just recently opened my cupboard and found something, well, how can I put it? I found out something disturbing about myself. OMG, I AM COLLECTING McDONALD COFFEE CUPS! You know the verigated orange/brown Styrofoam ones with a white McCafe scribbled on a field of brown. The one that has the disclaimer, “CAUTION handle with care I’M HOT,” in two languages (and we all remember that fiasco don’t we?). Well, I have 20 of them lined up in the dish cupboard, four sets, five to a set. Have I gone completely nuts? I turned around after realizing what I was doing and spied 10 more (yes, arranged in two sets of five) sitting on the counter next to my range).I I have completely gone around the bend. A quick look around netted 6 more in the dish drainer. OMG, I’M COLLECTING McDONALD COFFEE CUPS! Wait a minute, wait a minute, no, I’m not senile, over the hill, demented or anything like that. Yes, I’m a little eccentric (ok, a lot), but I must have a reason (and hopefully I can come up with several plausible several reasons) for such bizarre behavior. So, I began to ponder (oh, no here I go again) why on earth am I amassing a flotilla of McDonald coffee cups ? Incidentally I have numerous lids too. Therefore, over the next few days I monitored my collecting and use of said cups; this is what I found: Every day my Dad brings home a coffee cup from his lunch at McDonalds. Instead of getting a refill on his coffee he has me fill the empty cup with diet Coke before we leave. This comes home with him for his afternoon refreshment. The cup eventually ends up on the kitchen counter. I usually rinse the cup out so a not to attract ants. But, here is where it all goes wrong … … I begin to think of uses for this empty cup. To use as a pet food scoop, a disposable drinking cup, a plant starter, bacon grease container, scrap food receptacle, a poop scoop, and on and on and on. That is when the cup goes into the dish drainer and eventually into the cupboard. The next shock occurs when I go to the cupboard for a glass. I see the McDonald cups, but do not take one. Why, you ask? Well, I might need one for something else later (see why I am alarmed!). I found uses for the lids, too. I heat Dad’s vegetables in the microwave. I discovered that large ceramic coffee cups do the trick (since the news about heating stuff in plastic containers). But, without a lid the stuff can splatter. Like a lightening bolt it hit me, place an inverted coffee cup lid on top. It worked. Not only that the leftover vegies. can be left in the cup, covered by the lid and placed in the frig. NEAT! So, now there are even lids by my cups in the cupboard, and lids by my microwave. At this point my mind is actually pondering saving a matching set of covered dishes. I mean those styrofoam breakfast plates are great for keeping things warm. Hummmmm… … … PLEASE stop me now, I am actually considering it! |
 I have ants, lots of ants! Tiny, little, black, shiny things marching across my kitchen counter. So, what's up with these tiny little creatures? Haven't they heard of the great outdoors? Don't they know about all of the picnics going on out there? Haven't they visited the local garbage dump? Why do they have to invade MY kitchen? Now I am a peaceful, nature loving person who looks upon all life as being precious (even ants). I have been known to (carefully) scoop up wayward spiders and escort them in to a much better echo system (which lie outside my front door). Most people think I'm nuts to do this, but I respect the job the spiders do in keeping down the bug population (all except my house ants, of course). OK, I admit it, I am a mediocre housekeeper who leaves one small morsel of food on the counter ( ok, two….ALLRIGHT, ALRIGHT so how about using the word some). Within the hour this tiny speck of food is descended upon by a hoard of ants. It's not like they couldn't have scarffed up the bits of food that have dropped to the floor. NO! That would be too easy. They are on my counter. I guess they like clean leftovers and the stuff on the floor is beneath them (literally and figuratively). As I watch the long line of scurrying animals they look like starving refugees who suddenly found themselves at an all you can eat buffet. I'll bet they even have their tiny little doggie bags tucked under their little appendages. The ant does have to be credited for phenomenal communication and organizational skills. Some enterprising scout ant stumbles over a find and does what? Yells, "Hey, Guys, over hear." Suddenly, conga line of industrious ants converge on the mother of all grand feast and get to work. However, they will get no kudos from me for their intelligence. Because as I was writing this an ant traipsed across my paper, never even giving a thought to the huge giant sitting there who was poised to render a squashing blow. Then as the squashing maneuver starts the ant suddenly glances up and races off (in a zigzag pattern) as if it had just noticed the peril for the first time. One (1) down and so many more to go. It's when I actually saw one look up at me before fleeing that I began to feel guilty - yes, you read right, guilty. (2, the numbers depict another ant dispatched) I guess I have been affected by all of those Disney or Pixar movies that show insects with human characteristic. I think that is called personification. Why should I feel guilty? It's not like ants are on an endangered species list. They aren't fuzzy with wagging tails and big soulful brown eyes. They aren't cuddly or cute but they do perform a service for nature. (3) Ants have a job to do. They are one of the many insects that have the nasty job of cleaning up the messes that we humans make. After all they take out the trash on a regular basis (which is more than I could say for myself, or my kids when they were young)! I kind of admire the way ants (4) work diligently and march out into a world that holds many perils for a creature of this minute size. They don't appear to be daunted by their lot in life. They see the prize and carry it off, one piece at a time. Some survive, some do not, but the colony goes on. Very altruistic! One day, tired of finding ants raiding my trash can, I decided (5) to put the ant attracting morsels in a separate bag and tie it up around a cupboard doorknob (intending to put it out after dinner and maybe training the ants to go outside to eat). When I returned to the sack thirty minutes later it was swarming with little busy bodies. I would really like to know how they found it so fast. Did one little ant look up and ponder, "Well, that's new, I wonder what she has up there?" Did it make several attempts to find a way up to the (6) hanging feast or did it go directly there (following it’s little ant nose)? Once there, did it go back down, (laying a trail of bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel) and tell the others of its miraculous find? Or did one clumsy ant fall off the cupboard and accidentally plunge into the gourmet meal? Then it next pondered is how to get the message to its fellow scavengers (7)? Do they have little ant whistles hanging around their necks, or maybe little cell phones? So far 7 ants have bit the dust while I was writing this “ANT ENCOUNTER” documentary. Then I saw one small ant carrying a piece of cracker two times larger than it’s body. I marveled at how it found its way around the items on the table and was steadfastly heading toward the south end of the table. Every time I placed something in its path it quickly detoured around it and continued south. This was enough to earn a reprieve. So I lured it onto a napkin and took it outside as a reward for its Herculean attempt at food gathering. Of course the poor thing found itself outside, in a pile of dirt without the morsel of cracker. Did it cuss me out or simply go around to the original point of entry and try again? So, I loudly proclaimed (8) to the ants in my kitchen that I would not squash them if they would please just step outside and stay there. They did not listen to me and returned the next day with more recruits. This time they were all over the place (except the floor). I growled and smashed and smashed and growled. This was not going to work. I scoured my counter tops three times a day and they still kept coming. I smeared liquid soap on the counters, which slowed them down. However, later, I forgot and made a sandwich on that counter. I was given a nasty surprise. (9) Darn those ants! I don’t like chemical warfare so ant poison is out of the question. The very thought of having taken a bite of soap marinated sandwich told me that ant poison would be something I should avoid (shudder). I also do not like watching them writhe in their death throws from pesticides. I mean the dish soap would only give them diarrhea but poison, well, is poison. So smashing is the only defense. Before the smashing campaign I made them a few promices: I will not squeal out “DIE YOU BASTARDS” as I squash them. I will not smile and enjoy the process. If they are still wiggling after the smashing maneuver then I will do a second smash to put them out of their (10) misery. I will give ants showing bravery, exceptional evasive moves, or enterprising traits a chance to go outside. I will keep my counters as clean as humanly possible (yeah. Right!) Before I finished writing this diatribe, I saw an ant sitting on the top of the lidded ketchup bottle. It appeared to be surveying what I was writing. I gave it time to finish reading and then said, “Well, what do you think?” I watched the small creature march down the ketchup bottle, up my pen, and onto my finger. I briefly considered that it might be trying to communicate with me….NO….COULDN’T BE….but I put it outside anyway. Now, before you call me crazy (ok you have already called me that, probably several times) let me tell you that I no longer have an over supply ants. Once in a while a rogue ant will race across the table or the counter. But they are no longer here in mass. Think what you want, but I am here to tell you that ants have learned to read and we humans had best be careful how we treat them because they could get even! JUNE 28, 2009 The ants are back! Something must have happened to my ambassador ant. I can't believe she (yes, she, I went on line to look up information on ants and worker ants are all female - FIGURES!). -I can’t figure out why they disappeared for a while. -We don't have any ant-eaters around here, so that's out. -Maybe she (the ant ambassidor) defected to another colony, could happen! -Maybe she was stepped on, a possibility.... (Oh no, was it me!) -Maybe my evil neighbor poisoned her! -Maybe she was at the end of her life span (queens live almost 15 years). Workers don't last that long (again FIGURES!). -Maybe she was reincarnated! (Naaaaaa) -Maybe she just wanted to come in out of the heat (it was 104 the other day) and the rest just followed her in; and are now back outside.. Maybe she will return to perch on top of my ketchup bottle and renegotiate the terms of our agreement (which reminds me I had better get the ketchup bottle out of the ice box and set it on the table) Or (and this is my favorite) Maybe they made her the new Queen (because of her unique talents). I guess I will never know why they were gone. |
