tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80000238012831383822024-02-01T22:14:30.001-08:00pinholes in the skyHollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-37572420658597377022022-02-07T18:17:00.002-08:002022-05-13T01:50:59.506-07:00My tumour looks like a head...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9pcnYO6mGsuNkc7FzoDqsg1nEZqMYxNwyu3TDD3545jFwVa3X7u6goHJb6E4bifpiA0n-w7bdPvgF4YgG0R-nMsqR0CXv3qz_rWwGahhBwJAUFulybebO3joTZk-V_cVbflXDxOKYE9VVE2L7_suKFwznxaUQNUZQTP3M03XLNmtWZVPdrRLZ1eR76A=s868" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="868" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9pcnYO6mGsuNkc7FzoDqsg1nEZqMYxNwyu3TDD3545jFwVa3X7u6goHJb6E4bifpiA0n-w7bdPvgF4YgG0R-nMsqR0CXv3qz_rWwGahhBwJAUFulybebO3joTZk-V_cVbflXDxOKYE9VVE2L7_suKFwznxaUQNUZQTP3M03XLNmtWZVPdrRLZ1eR76A=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>This seems to be a reoccurring theme--tumour looks like something other than a bog standard tumour. </p><p><br /></p><p>Not that I'm an expert on what tumours are supposed to look like, of course, (Google does have some suggestions though), but I'm pretty sure there are things they <i>shouldn't</i> look like...in my opinion..as an expert Tumour Incubator...</p><p><br /></p><p>If you've checked out my previous post, you would've seen the creepy clown in my tumour. This noggin-ish image is from a different scan, and I think I almost find it even creepier...not sure why...maybe because it looks so realistic...so....well...head-like...</p><p><br /></p><p>For some reason, I find myself thinking of the Headless Horseman...again, don't know why...I do know that I don't like it...not gonna lose my head over it though...not the one that's growing out of my shoulders, at least...</p><p><br /></p><p>How can I put a positive spin on this...? Gonna have to dig deep here...um...it's good to have a spare...? (Or does that only apply to tyres? This thing is kinda like a spare tyre, of the unhelpful variety, given it's location.)</p><p><br /></p><p>Let's try again... </p><p><br /></p><p>Perhaps I should be thankful I don't have to give birth to it...? </p><p><br /></p><p>It almost looks like it's asleep...? </p><p><br /></p><p>It doesn't appear to have any teeth...? </p><p><br /></p><p>It's not making eye contact...? (Imagine if it was winking...actually, let's not...I don't mind trees winking at me though. Scroll down to my Surgery or Exorcism? post for photographic evidence.)</p><p><br /></p><p>That's all I got so far...if you have any suggestions, don't be shy..tumour humour is encouraged here...</p><p><br /></p><p>Wait...I just thought of another positively positive positive!</p><p><br /></p><p>Two heads are better than one...?:-) </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm sure Zaphod Beeblebrox would second that...or maybe he said it first...*<i>rushes off to consult tattered copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, pausing to reread the sage advice on the back cover.</i>*</p><p><br /></p><p>Which leads to even more rose-coloured questions to ponder...</p><p><br /></p><p>Does a second head mean that I have a second brain...? </p><p><br /></p><p>I'm pretty sure I've heard some sciency peeps propose that idea before--that our gut has it's own control room. </p><p><br /></p><p>Does that therefore imply I may have double the IQ...? </p><p><br /></p><p>Hmmm...my tendency to be a complete dumbarse, seems to suggest otherwise...and for the record, Brain No.1 doesn't like what Brain No.2 is thinking/plotting. Perhaps it's my evil twin in there...in fact, Brain No.1 thinks Brain No.2 is a No.2...</p><p><br /></p><p>Maybe there isn't a head or a clown in my tumour, but a shapeshifter, that does an impressive head/clown impersonation...what will it morph into next...</p><p><br /></p><p>My guess is a gorgon...there's a reason I call it Medusa...</p><p><br /></p><p><i>Always-look-on-the-fright-side-of-life...</i></p><p><br /></p><p>Because sometimes, you just have to look these things in the eye... </p><p><br /></p><p>If only I could trick Medusa into looking herself in the eye...or maybe if I could just get my stoopid immune system to notice her. FFS. It really needs to pull its <i>head</i> out of the sand and <i>face</i> up to its problems, tackling them <i>head</i> on...it's a <i>no-brainer...</i>(Insert hitting head against brick wall emoji here.)</p><p><br /></p><p>Please note, as aforementioned in my previous posts, I wouldn't poke fun at other people's tumours, just my own. I grew it all by myself and so therefore consider it fair game.</p><p><br /></p><p>And, of course, tumour talk aside, it's important to look at pictures of beautiful things too, like bugs! Woohoo!</p><p><br /></p><p>Let's soothe ourselves by doing that now;</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3t5yRLN4XHMsmhwo_PlCU1_g12qdmPFRFrit2dKE6B9sD2KTFMkdcqj3GcUO0MLqoOeiN3IkAPGnnpNyfGpFfPBPsxp_UjerE68e8zsOW1vRA6dTGQOuMLYVz2OigzB-QhFnhe8n84Wz9FP6aj_VsoSOc_7zRydjyT_iF-vPUbAJBZoWGJ-lqCZyX9A=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3t5yRLN4XHMsmhwo_PlCU1_g12qdmPFRFrit2dKE6B9sD2KTFMkdcqj3GcUO0MLqoOeiN3IkAPGnnpNyfGpFfPBPsxp_UjerE68e8zsOW1vRA6dTGQOuMLYVz2OigzB-QhFnhe8n84Wz9FP6aj_VsoSOc_7zRydjyT_iF-vPUbAJBZoWGJ-lqCZyX9A=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Oh, and I started another blog! Somewhere where I can tell as many cat stories as I want! Woohoo! And I've just posted a photo of a cat who also looks like he might have an extra head...</p><p><br /></p><p>If you're curious;</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://catpolitics101.blogspot.com/">https://catpolitics101.blogspot.com/</a></p><div><br /></div>
Or https://catpolitics101.blogspot.com/
If that link doesn't show up. Technical trouble. Sheesh.
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-44014630980131543402021-10-30T15:17:00.005-07:002022-05-13T01:54:15.674-07:00There's a creepy clown face in my tumour...<p> </p><p>Here he is...in the flesh...</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsMQ79BmuReb1h7S87SV22BaegVwN-zCTJWgn_oUqW296m1AN0NaCPERsCeLVHR6nFLCiHtlAEcPBH8FPG7s8S-TwtqM1E2l1ODr4E0QXQ6F0r6uefc9cJA10JrMf2M_IzfKBnclWNVqj/s748/IMG_20210901_145204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="748" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsMQ79BmuReb1h7S87SV22BaegVwN-zCTJWgn_oUqW296m1AN0NaCPERsCeLVHR6nFLCiHtlAEcPBH8FPG7s8S-TwtqM1E2l1ODr4E0QXQ6F0r6uefc9cJA10JrMf2M_IzfKBnclWNVqj/s320/IMG_20210901_145204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>You can read all about IT in my previous post;</p><p><br /></p><p>https://pinholesinthesky.blogspot.com/2021/07/surgeryorexorcism.html<p><p><br /></p><p>Apologies for the image quality. </p>
<p><br /></p>
<p>What's *funny* is that I've been so fixated on Clown Features that I only just noticed a couple of days before posting this photo that there's actually another small face in the upper right hand side, in an organ that could possibly be my liver? FFS. Talk about the gift that keeps on giving.</p>
<p><br /></p>
<p>
It is actually one of those trick images that can look like two different faces depending on your brain's interpretation. That's what my brain is telling me, at least. The top face looks a bit like Punch from the old Punch and Judy puppet show.
</p>
<p><br /></p>
<p>
The second face, slightly below Punch, (Punch's nose becomes his forrid), has a rather long beard, so could be a dwarf from <i>Lord of the Rings</i>? A dwarf and a puppet vs a clown...how would that end?</p>
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NB: Don't worry, I do not think I am possessed and need an exorcism, I can just see the humour in this. I write horror comedy so this is rather fertile ground for me. I would prefer it if my body wasn't fertile ground for tumours, but hey.</p>
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<p>
As mentioned in my previous post, I also wouldn't crack jokes about anyone elses tumour, but I grew this one all by myself so I consider it fair game. Apologies if my attempts at humour offend anyone.</p>
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<p>
I've actually made a point of not watching reruns of <i>Alien</i> though, since I found out I had this tumour, so what do I get confronted by when I turned on the telly the other night? A clip from <i>Alien</i>...you know the one I'm talking about... Really wish I hadn't seen that episode...</p>
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<p><i>Always look on the fright side of life...
</i></p>
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<p>Happy Halloween, everyone!</p><p><br /></p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-45437108676633506282021-07-03T02:23:00.037-07:002022-05-13T01:47:21.308-07:00Surgery...or...exorcism...?<p><br /></p><p>Warning: Content may offend. The following post may not be your cup of tea. If your sense of humour hasn't lurched over to the dark side yet, you may want to nudge the back button. Some tumour humour is about to follow. </p><p><br /></p><p>Please note that I would only crack jokes about my own tumour, not anybody elses. I grew it all by myself, so I therefore consider it fair game. Plus I write comedy. Dark comedy, in more recent times... How could I not go there...especially given the circumstances... I'll poke the damn thing with a stick, if I want to...metaphorically, at least...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Are you still reading this...? Then don't say I didn't warn you...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I got a copy of my scan recently, so have been gazing in wonder, and confusion, at my insides. And in horror. <i>There is a creepy clown face in my tumour.</i> I'm not sure how I feel about this, other than - <i>WTF???????????</i></p><p dir="ltr"><i><br /></i></p><p dir="ltr"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9TSHGlu2Ltl4f-96b6k4vvB3kobVSBA9dCufNhnTpj48lYd2cbIYknBCw_Q_vmilvXF3fx_35HvzKR9LdvDjvY89_eVEFRwubSA0D6sk92mMGrAboA6v9rhYoQhRVgJm57M1DY8-LdOR/s763/IMG_20210719_123007.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="631" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9TSHGlu2Ltl4f-96b6k4vvB3kobVSBA9dCufNhnTpj48lYd2cbIYknBCw_Q_vmilvXF3fx_35HvzKR9LdvDjvY89_eVEFRwubSA0D6sk92mMGrAboA6v9rhYoQhRVgJm57M1DY8-LdOR/s320/IMG_20210719_123007.JPG" /></a></div><i><br /></i><p></p>
<p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">Not a clown, or a tumour, but if the images google has shown me of the latter are anything to go by, there could be some similarities...</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Since making this ominous discovery, all sorts of pertinent questions have been competing for my attention.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Is it just me...or is this a common phenomenon? Do a statistically significant number of tumours also harbour creepy clowns? Are the walls of the staff rooms of radiologists all over the world covered in the best of the best creepy clown images?</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">What about the people these tumours with not-so-funny faces are growing inside of? Do they swap stories, and photos, with other patients in private chat rooms? Or is it one of those uncomfortable facts of life that no one talks about? So much so, that oncologists never even tell their patients? You know, cos they don't want them to worry...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">No one told me... I only know I have "clown issues", because I looked... I haven't inspected every image yet either, there's rather a lot of them, so there might be rather a lot of clowns...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I could really do with some face recognition software, so I can ascertain if it's just one buffoon pulling different faces, (I don't think it's Krusty), or a party of clowns taking turns, posing for the camera....</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I have been known to refer to this mass that I have amassed as my RCE, or Rogue Cell Ensemble, which sounds slightly less scary than tumour, in my opinion, at least, but now I'm wondering if it's actually a Rogue Clown Ensemble...eek...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo0B0djyYlnwDinJQEhxWlITez0KiqMaQEl2zlJ3lXC9LDJfprEWzud83siPnzCKjfyVb15wpOoNXzGJxEFyF3IQsou6VYeOQUyjSSFFkTVOdwb1QOV9I6_qWl4PQ9KGoWrnUtmbxN-r_/s2048/IMG_20181220_172206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo0B0djyYlnwDinJQEhxWlITez0KiqMaQEl2zlJ3lXC9LDJfprEWzud83siPnzCKjfyVb15wpOoNXzGJxEFyF3IQsou6VYeOQUyjSSFFkTVOdwb1QOV9I6_qWl4PQ9KGoWrnUtmbxN-r_/s320/IMG_20181220_172206.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr">Perhaps next time I see the specialist I will ask if exorcism may be a more prudent, less invasive treatment than scalpel action. If he still recommends the big chop, I will have to ask some questionable questions.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">How will he stop the creepy clown/clowns from jumping ship and starting a fresh circus act in an adjacent organ?</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Will the theatre team swap their scrubs for clown outfits? Or will they wear costumes that represent the clowns' natural enemy? Do clowns have enemies...?</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">More importantly, if I opted for the other option, how does one exorcise a clown? Snap his braces, pull his hair...send him to the naughty chair? </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Would the person performing the exorcism skip around me, in oversized shoes, blowing one of those roll out party whistles, while wearing a paper hat? Maybe while also popping some balloons, shaking a tambourine, and chanting, Happy Turfday to you? <i>Turf that clown right out of town... </i></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Or would they try and tickle the joker out with laughing gas? <i>Laugh that clown right out of town... </i>Or perhaps tie IT to some helium balloons...<i>float that clown right out of town...</i></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I know...they could circle me on a unicycle while juggling bottles of holy water... although maybe throwing garlic wreaths up into the air would be safer...yeah...that might work...this tumour is technically vampirish, a blood-sucking beast trying to drain the life out of me...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjioMy5KoKp9_RQ9Din-5PWykPcgD_vAsaz18y10pScmvtszcrDlg4R3-lDZVzqVC8mDrxG3aZ36iBlTZ6dfeByvtTx_gyDE3LWyffnPNCnmwRjRyFeB1VJOs3az3-fu3Xd2ZwUGeFfk4ep/s800/IMG_20210719_123125.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="755" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjioMy5KoKp9_RQ9Din-5PWykPcgD_vAsaz18y10pScmvtszcrDlg4R3-lDZVzqVC8mDrxG3aZ36iBlTZ6dfeByvtTx_gyDE3LWyffnPNCnmwRjRyFeB1VJOs3az3-fu3Xd2ZwUGeFfk4ep/s320/IMG_20210719_123125.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">Is this a built-in drain, or are we staring into the abyss...?</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I wonder what clown features name is...probably something nauseatingly syrupy and playful...something like... Candyfloss...Candyfloss...Candy--</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Let's not go there... </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I probably shouldn't give him a name, should I...or give him oxygen...not sure how to avoid that at the mo though...tricky...but then, I think the proof of identity/extracting his real name thing might be the responsibility of Team Exorcism ...? Or maybe that's only how it works in the movies...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I didn't used to suffer from coulrophobia--the official term for a fear of clowns. I have even dressed as a clown in my youth. Tis hard to not be nervous about this one though. </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Another uncomfortable question...what is he doing when not posing for photo shoots...? Hopefully not playing teacher ...nurturing those little clones at an exclusive clown school...or making balloon cthulhu's...wait...maybe the exorcism crew might make the balloon cthulhu's...maybe that would work...chase the evil clown out with an eviler entity...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Wrkxa994FVUSNz1ESnXstXLY9M_L5dmKzAq-WTwInUYZh1z5KW_2WTjGjoUnySQ0Hd002E9Kothqz39TehgxLNPYdesg-u7bJq8gY4Uh90Lbua62M7h63BenRuqgk_mw1M8wYjR0JgbP/s2048/IMG_20181220_172231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Wrkxa994FVUSNz1ESnXstXLY9M_L5dmKzAq-WTwInUYZh1z5KW_2WTjGjoUnySQ0Hd002E9Kothqz39TehgxLNPYdesg-u7bJq8gY4Uh90Lbua62M7h63BenRuqgk_mw1M8wYjR0JgbP/s320/IMG_20181220_172231.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">Is it just me, or does this beached sea monster have a bit of a cthulhu vibe going on...?</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">According to wiki, exorcists can cast out a demon by commanding it to depart in the name of a higher power, so who is above a clown...guess that would be the ringmaster...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Although I'm thinking it would make more sense if the exorcist was dressed like a ringmaster, complete with handlebar moustache, top hat and tails, and he would be drawing the clown out further with every crack of his whip, before ceremoniously feeding the f**ker to the lions...hear Aslan ROAR...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Am I giving this too much thought? I always have had a vivid imagination. Not vivid enough to imagine that I would see a creepy clown face in my tumour in the first place though, just so you know.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Annoyingly, I can hear Ms Streisand's song playing on repeat inside my head...<i>Send in the Clowns...</i>how about, <i>Send out the Clowns</i>...out damn clowns, out...maybe the surgical team would be humming that tune too....and here's a thought...they could call the procedure Operation Clown...that would make an eye-catching title for a journal publication, wouldn't it...or Operation Circus...that's another contender...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEyWpe0OcfwLKkYMbGM17eEPeX0oToRy6wFxdKWUdm9LNXE1wne-zvq_YMwhONZx2G4f0l0LLQbsVHO8JjwQ920qHxVA0TvJNuS5pNfs3rmUg6RNcSzDGqnglo5252bvU5qYf4whYA_gB/s2048/IMG_20181220_172218.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEyWpe0OcfwLKkYMbGM17eEPeX0oToRy6wFxdKWUdm9LNXE1wne-zvq_YMwhONZx2G4f0l0LLQbsVHO8JjwQ920qHxVA0TvJNuS5pNfs3rmUg6RNcSzDGqnglo5252bvU5qYf4whYA_gB/s320/IMG_20181220_172218.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">The swirly bit in this picture reminds me of The Scream, by Edvard Munch, before the screamer covered their ears. Could be just another weird sea beastie with limpet-like tendencies, who had the misfortune to hitch-hike its way to a stranding, though. Hard to be sure about these things...</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Okay...so that's how my thought processes proceeded initially...then I got suspicious... What if the clown is exogenous? What if the image has been photoshopped? It might be a stock photo...clip art...inserted by a radiologist with a twisted sense of humour...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Maybe it's my punishment for having the audacity to request my medical records... their way of jumping onboard the creepy clown phenomenon, making sure they get the last laugh...is that the sound of a radiologist sniggering, I can hear???? Maybe they have a google alert set up for, "Help! There's a clown in my tumour!"</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Curiously enough, I found another alarming image on a different scan which may support this theory...the tumour looks like a human head...gulp...and there's still yet another scan I haven't...scanned...yet...who knows what might be lurking in that one...probably best not to give it too much thought...especially in the wee small hours when I should be sleeping...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">It could be a sideshow slideshow in there...Chucky might be running amuck in my innards as well...egged on by a posse of blood thirsty deviant dolls...who are in cahoots with a ventriloquist's dummy... eek...those things really creep me out...I see a horror movie script writing itself...Fearground Attraction...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">As Bart said, <i>"Can't sleep, clown will eat me..."</i> I hear ya little 2d dude, I hear ya...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If it is a radiological prank, it's definitely sick joke territory. Just saying...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Far more likely, of course, that it's just a Rogue Pixel Ensemble, but imagine how disturbing it would be for someone who did believe in demons?</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KW8Oisv5erqVk8n6OzLH-9InVXq31ECTs8sjsIG1qwrAM2eD2UOYpQKMwVbILkkbvZxqeJL4xgJPYchWWo97lq4J0XR5mW9M18NzRzN7XpDrRPCKLUG0lY4Md4ESwiIBcDwaCN0SEtjk/s2048/IMG_20181220_172156.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KW8Oisv5erqVk8n6OzLH-9InVXq31ECTs8sjsIG1qwrAM2eD2UOYpQKMwVbILkkbvZxqeJL4xgJPYchWWo97lq4J0XR5mW9M18NzRzN7XpDrRPCKLUG0lY4Md4ESwiIBcDwaCN0SEtjk/s320/IMG_20181220_172156.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">Nice flippers, Cthulhu-ish creature.</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And yes, before you say it, I do know that the tendency we humans have of seeing faces in everything from clouds to toast is called <b>Pareidolia</b>. Wikipedia tells me that Pareidolia is actually used as an educational tool in radiology. Check this out;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">"When viewing spinal radiographs, normal bony anatomic structures resemble the face of an owl. (The spinal pedicles resemble an owl's eyes and the spinous process resembles an owl's beak.) But when cancer erodes the bony spinal pedicle, the radiographic appearance changes such that now that eye of the owl seems missing or closed, which is called the "winking owl sign".</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And part of the spine that looks like a Scotty dog, sometimes wears a collar, and then there's the bony bit that looks like Baby Yoda. Who would've thought. No mention of clowns though. But then tumours aren't a normal part of human anatomy, are they...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareidolia"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">Pareidolia</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Google also showed me a journal publication about a pituitary tumour that looked like Big Bird from Sesame Street.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And then there's the geode that looks like the Cookie Monster;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://www.livescience.com/colletor-finds-rare-cookie-monster-rock.html"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">livescience.com</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Where there any clowns in Sesame Street? My memory of the characters is a little sketchy...it's been a while...I think I would rather my tumour looked like Mr Snuffleupagus than this bozo though, or maybe even The Count...as long as he wasn't in there...you know...counting, "One tumour...two tumours...three--" Would make the one-wheeled cycle riding, bottled water juggling demon chaser a no brainer though, wouldn't it.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">This article mentions an ultrasound that revealed a face in a man's testicle. Yikes;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20140730-why-do-we-see-faces-in-objects"><span style="background-color: black; color: #e69138;">BBC: Why do we see faces in objects?</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">This bit is fascinating;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">"In the 1950s, the Bank of Canada had to withdraw a series of banknotes because a grinning devil leapt from the random curls of the Queen’s hair."</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Good grief.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And if you're trying to think of a way to increase the amount of hours you spend looking at random sh*t on the internet, try googling, #iseefaces. I suggest you start here;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/DrBethNichols/status/1396782412777074691"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">Twitter--Dr Beth Nichols</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">A universe in a blade of grass...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Some more noteworthy sites;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://twistedsifter.com/2013/05/50-faces-in-everyday-places/"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">50-faces-in-everyday-places</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And this National Geographic blog has a cliff that looks like one of Tolkien’s dwarves. Nice;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://blog.education.nationalgeographic.org/2014/07/23/wednesday-word-of-the-week-pareidolia/"><span style="color: #e69138;">Word of the week--pareidolia</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And more reddit;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/Pareidolia"><span style="color: #e69138;">Pareidolia</span></a></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">But you don't even need to leave this blog to indulge in some face spotting.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If you scroll back up to the first photo of cthulhu features, you might see an old man wearing one of those slouchy, windsockish style hats in the top left-hand side of the image. He has a rather long beard with a bird's nest in it, one of those fully enclosed nests with a small birdie sized entrance. How cute is that. </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Then, if you turn the image on it's side, there's a beastie with a trunk! More than one actually, it's a very busy photo. Lots to see, if you know where to look...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeQcatydPQh3cBWYXIxqW-9j-o0GsLleBdOI_-FQ1GlKRXG8z4iwLwBc86SJDIuQImyDpl3WXgV-EZW_S8adgE5cW1590U66xySzP9hPqT2TPywLLki1cDWzHIR4X47OUjc4w8nuJULpA/s2048/IMG_20181220_172146.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeQcatydPQh3cBWYXIxqW-9j-o0GsLleBdOI_-FQ1GlKRXG8z4iwLwBc86SJDIuQImyDpl3WXgV-EZW_S8adgE5cW1590U66xySzP9hPqT2TPywLLki1cDWzHIR4X47OUjc4w8nuJULpA/s320/IMG_20181220_172146.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">RIP, ocean entity. I may have to honor you with a Hi-ho Holly-o Sea Shanty. Never actually written one before, but if I can write shit poetry, I think it's not too much of a stretch to hope I can write a not-as-shitty sea ditty...(try saying that ten times in a row)...watch this space...or perhaps...stay tuned!</span></p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Returning to the exogenous vs endogenous issue, I realise that by publicly stating that I have an inner clown--a sinister one--that I am playing right into the Biopsychosocial (BPS) crowd's hands...that whole cancer personality industry that makes my blood boil...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I can see the elaborate hypotheses reproducing themselves, clumping together, forming a malignant mass already; suspected childhood trauma...must have been laughed at as a child...probably at other children's birthday parties...resulting in a repressed fear of fun...or maybe she was teased...her nose is kinda red...all of this negativity manifesting as...drum roll...The Cancer Clown!</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Could explain my aversion to polkadots, I guess... Actually, at the tender age of five, while walking home from school, some older kids did call me short stuff and ask if I got shrunk in the washing machine...maybe that was the inciting incident...their cruel laughter might be what my cells remember...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">No doubt the BPS brigade would recommend some positive affirmations that I could tape to my mirror, to help me learn to embrace my inner clown...perhaps something like, "Laughter is the best medicine..." </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">They might suggest I change my theme song to, <i>Funny face, I Love You... </i>They would probably also propose laughter therapy to help me heal...so I can...you know...turn that clown frown upside down... Or tell me to stand on a piece of paper and yell stop!...to stop "doing" my tumour. Yeah...that's bound to work...now where did I put that bucket...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Let's pause for a moment to soothe ourselves with a picture of a winking tree;</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2rXgnrGVCGGISpO4Dec6EM7Rp_OQQRmUV1S4y2Qvvj6KSKDpujnCUrXbFKVt8W19kl-vYHPU7Ro3JCFgx4PoPsYnjO8PMwh6gqQ3WOVqdrViaYk80k3WLsEiNQY_-jNFTw5DP5j1jdEi/s773/IMG_20210606_172611.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="649" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL2rXgnrGVCGGISpO4Dec6EM7Rp_OQQRmUV1S4y2Qvvj6KSKDpujnCUrXbFKVt8W19kl-vYHPU7Ro3JCFgx4PoPsYnjO8PMwh6gqQ3WOVqdrViaYk80k3WLsEiNQY_-jNFTw5DP5j1jdEi/s320/IMG_20210606_172611.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">At least I hope this tree is winking, and hasn't had his eye pecked out by a...a...a wood pecking bird...it's not like the poor tree could run, even if there was still time, to escape a calculated attack by a vindictive avian assailant...how cruel...the tree is just a sitting duck...for a birdie to pluck...out more than just bark...gee, this poem is dark...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Maybe the tree was about to open its mouth to plead for help, and the thoughtless camerawoman just misinterpreted that chance to listen to the plight of a well and truly rooted vulnerable target, as a mere photo opportunity...I hear ya, not-so-little 3d tree, I hear ya...admittedly belatedly...sorry about that...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">But then again, maybe the tree just has a bit of dirt in its eye...I can see how that would be a plausible environmental hazard...but wait...maybe the tree only ever had a single eye...like a Cyclops...but not really like one at all...or perhaps it takes time for a tree to grow a second eye...they do tend to function on a slower schedule compared to us, don't they...if only I could do that time lapse photography thing to spy on its eye... gosh...so many possibilities...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Now...where were we...?</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I bet I know what you are thinking...what was I thinking posting this outrageous anecdote without providing you, dear reader, with photographic evidence...yes, well, sorry about that, I realise how annoying it must be, it's just that I had what I thought was a cunning plan, and I'm still in the denial stage, hoping that my plan might magically come to fruition.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I was initially thinking of posting the photo on Reddit's<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/creepy/"> <span style="color: #f6b26b;">r/creepy</span></a></span>, purely for the amusement of others, but then I read an article in the dailymail about a baby ultrasound image that looked like a demon, and I wondered if I could sell my clown...for enough balloons to fly me over the ocean to a country where I could have some fancy pancy treatment that I can't get here in little ole NZ... </p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Deluded, I know...<br />But I can't let go...<br />Of those balloons that will fly...<br />My tumour and I...<br />And the clown that resides...<br />In my dodgy insides...<br />Across the big blue sea...<br />To another country...<br />Where I can get medication...<br />To blast this abomination...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">As one of my favourite actors, Tim Roth, so eloquently put it;</p><p dir="ltr">"Yeah, well, good luck with that." --Jack, Tin Star</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If my appalling attempt at poetry made you cringe, then rest assured you are not alone...if my circumstances were different, I would probably have the self respect to delete it, but sharing one's body with a rogue tumour kinda changes your perspective on what's important...ya know...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Anyway, I feel the need to acknowledge how lucky I am to be living in a country where Covid isn't rampant yet, because I'm pretty sure I'd be down under by now if things were different...it's so sad to see what is happening around the world...my condolences to all those who are suffering because of the pandemic...</p>
<p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I may update this post with a photo at a later stage, when I come to my senses, but for now I just need to get this clown off my chest... I have kindly uploaded a picky of a cloud demon as a substitute for the time being...enjoy...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUITCSB0p2nA9Vz4Ie2y5ONP9BhcwXKxTjhJejpy9mDLVOTKbMwh2EdnmhabVOcJBy3FdiarhZ0PUuJbhGB4NFeSRORBR3iL-kyACCRVrtzJbQkrFL6iRPwemyMCYtm7vUSfApzb0AIi3p/s930/IMG_20170106_185138.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUITCSB0p2nA9Vz4Ie2y5ONP9BhcwXKxTjhJejpy9mDLVOTKbMwh2EdnmhabVOcJBy3FdiarhZ0PUuJbhGB4NFeSRORBR3iL-kyACCRVrtzJbQkrFL6iRPwemyMCYtm7vUSfApzb0AIi3p/s320/IMG_20170106_185138.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">My, what a big nose you have, sky overlord.</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If you have the stomach for it, here's another poem, just for fun;</p>
<div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In my innards there's a clown<br />
His smile makes me frown<br />
He's living in my tumour<br />
Tis hard to find the humour<br />
No cause for celebration<br />
I need some clown chelation<br />The jester needs to repent<br />and get the F out of my tent<br />
For my body to ever mend<br />His party needs to end</div><div style="text-align: left;">This Bozo has to go<br />Please cancel his sh*t show<br />A permanent lockdown<br />Curtains for the clown<br />Can someone please burst his bubble<br />
If it isn't too much trouble<br />
Without spreading his creepy face<br />
All over the god damn place<br />
Don't want this clown to clone<br />
Himself in another zone<br />
If he finds a way to spawn<br />
A circus will be born<br />Please form a tight bunch<br />And deck Mr Punch<br />Out damn clown, out<br />
You rainbow-haired lout!</div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Wait! Lightbulb moment! Maybe that's the answer! Bad poetry! Delivered by...drum roll...Vogons! But of course. I reckon a few verses from them would send the clown packing...better dust off my Hitchhiker's Guide, and get my trusty towel ready...if only...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Yeah, I know, I should probably quit clowning around, but I can't run away from this, so I thought I'd pun away instead...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If you know anyone who wants to buy an original clown portrait, (not autographed though, sorry, at least...I don't think it is...hmmmm...I may have to zoom in and report back...), please comment below. Haven't set a reserve yet, but all offers considered. Bidding wars also welcomed. </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And feel free to comment if there are any punfare opportunities I have missed. Bound to be a few. Just an amateur comedian, ya know. Only ever likely to be remembered posthumorously, if at all...or maybe posttumourously...ha...that possibly only works as a private joke...but anyway, put your best pun forward. I dare ya.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And if, heaven forbid, you have found a clown in your innards too, I'd love to hear from you! And if there are any radiologists out there with an inside scoop...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">May take me a while to respond, sorry, because I'm...you know...up to my neck in tumour trouble, hopefully just metaphorically...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOKtXiPiVnZL27eXl5cXlTeajgJDTFo9r9WCvNqDJ0ubahU0sjvF606scsxkgHXFwpqPAxjubvorHtLyDzWiojH8toZpH0uwrGIxoRluhsus0Zxz80f_4vTrKCiKfdot0LOfEcmODXAvJ/s960/IMG_20210718_121033.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOKtXiPiVnZL27eXl5cXlTeajgJDTFo9r9WCvNqDJ0ubahU0sjvF606scsxkgHXFwpqPAxjubvorHtLyDzWiojH8toZpH0uwrGIxoRluhsus0Zxz80f_4vTrKCiKfdot0LOfEcmODXAvJ/s320/IMG_20210718_121033.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">Looks like you picked a fight with the wrong cloud, Mr Seagull. I'd fly while there's still time if I were you.</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">On another curious note, I only just saw <i>It</i>...the movie...interesting... As much as I would like to avoid the sewerage system, this clown is pretty close to my own private sewerage system...can't really steer clear of that one...what do I do about that, tricky...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML4Z9r0zzO1jrJmP_TcCEPyzdpjAvukDeTKoiEb0UyJoZ7hT9bkiPWuvzVLNncUH6gURjH2y6ok58ysHFDtNSXL2kGHJGcl7B74UtnwdAsbfTfzzplzKKlePlL5a59JpexNDwsRfWYBHw/s2048/IMG_20171002_141847.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhML4Z9r0zzO1jrJmP_TcCEPyzdpjAvukDeTKoiEb0UyJoZ7hT9bkiPWuvzVLNncUH6gURjH2y6ok58ysHFDtNSXL2kGHJGcl7B74UtnwdAsbfTfzzplzKKlePlL5a59JpexNDwsRfWYBHw/s320/IMG_20171002_141847.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;">I hope that malevolent cloud up above didn't vaporise that poor seagull...if so, he looks happy though...free as a bird...there is that...</span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">If only my tumour looked more like a tuber than a clown...I think that would be less traumatic...but potatoes are my favourite food, so maybe not...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNNN5kTQJWMUalqNxjFldlj44YTITBN_KFMyhsjyI-JMKeRmUYb3sVNQCW2_ou3yszUjJrkKg3kIGOuHUuWz5dlxkNG8ruUUn7aMI5KLAjK4Xl1Xvpw_B7g-Isyj6PRH0ClDv3k2kaeEv/s2048/IMG_20170127_205826.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNNN5kTQJWMUalqNxjFldlj44YTITBN_KFMyhsjyI-JMKeRmUYb3sVNQCW2_ou3yszUjJrkKg3kIGOuHUuWz5dlxkNG8ruUUn7aMI5KLAjK4Xl1Xvpw_B7g-Isyj6PRH0ClDv3k2kaeEv/s320/IMG_20170127_205826.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p dir="ltr"><br /></p>
<p dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: x-small;"></span></p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr"></p>I have spent some time pondering a one liner that could best summarise what the future has in store for me. Easier than I would prefer...if my RCE is cancer, a number of phrases spring to mind...</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p>
<p dir="ltr">Headed for the big chop.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The screen before game over.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">I can't stop there though, it's too much fun...really quite addictive...plus I am a tautologist by trade...(and did I mention my, I Might Have Cancer Card?), and basically, I just can't help myself... oh look...there's another one;</p><p dir="ltr">I just can't help myself.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">...so I will still do my own thing...oh look...there's another;</p><p dir="ltr">Still doing my own thing.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And let's not stop there;</p><p dir="ltr">Hoping there is an afterlife.</p><p dir="ltr">Hoping the afterlife isn't Hell.</p><p dir="ltr">Putting the grin in grim.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Some insect inspired responses, because <i>bugs are beautiful </i>and it would be a sin for me to not mention them in a post;</p><p dir="ltr">Bug obsessed til I croak.</p><p dir="ltr">Waiting to meet the worms.</p><p dir="ltr">Hoping the afterlife has insects. (If not, starting a petition.)</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And;</p><p dir="ltr">Googling "DIY mushroom burial suit."</p><p dir="ltr">Because I don't think these <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/23/business/mushroom-suits-biodegradable-urns-and-deaths-green-frontier.html"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">clever creations</span></a> are available in this neck of the woods yet. Sigh. </p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Some musically minded answers;</p><p dir="ltr">Refusing to Fear the Reaper.</p><p dir="ltr">Deciding what to throw away.</p><p dir="ltr">Accepting I can never leave.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And because this classic is another one of my theme songs;</p><p dir="ltr">On the road to Nowhere.</p><p dir="ltr">And subsequently;</p><p dir="ltr">Contemplating the meaning of Nowhere.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">But if by some fluke there is an afterlife, then I guess I'd be;</p><p dir="ltr">On the road to Somewhere.</p><p dir="ltr">And subsequently;</p><p dir="ltr">Contemplating the meaning of Somewhere.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">But because I'm not in a hurry to get Nowhere, or Somewhere anytime soon;</p><p dir="ltr">Hoping the road is long.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">Provided, of course that it's not long and torturous, quality of life is key, imo. And because I'm not done yet;</p><p dir="ltr">Rogue cell ensemble goes rogue.</p><p dir="ltr">Down under in Down Under.</p><p dir="ltr">Scanning the sky for Vogons.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And; </p><p dir="ltr">Wondering, what would Gandalf do...?</p><p dir="ltr">Wondering how to summon Gandalf...</p><p dir="ltr">Wishing I lived in Hobbiton.</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">And to give this post a warm fuzzy full circle feel;</p><p dir="ltr">Trying to unjoin the circus.</p><p dir="ltr">Or;</p><p dir="ltr">Running away from the circus. (Not sure which of those I like best but my inner tautologist insisted I include both so you can decide.)</p><p dir="ltr">Not getting the last laugh. </p><p dir="ltr">Couldn't sleep, clown ate me.</p><p dir="ltr">One tumour...two tumours...three--</p><p dir="ltr"><br /></p><p dir="ltr">But don't hit the back button just yet...saving the best for last, as you do;</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Taken</i><i> down by a clown...</i></p><p dir="ltr"><i><br /></i></p><p dir="ltr"><i><br /></i></p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-36366722201369864472021-01-27T17:50:00.003-08:002022-07-30T21:47:45.758-07:00The Prince of Leaves<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3uHNwT85l2IxSl1v4_0gVLX6sTxsZDxLe8yYRJrcneOoOcwA2YWz4tD3HCdbyUbAoDfoOI0hc8TRJta-y3pikD8nkCW7U5xgHDdam4bhuuG-qAIbpEysZ476fPyp93YNK4rcItT7xpL2/s500/41eQIEOkWbL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3uHNwT85l2IxSl1v4_0gVLX6sTxsZDxLe8yYRJrcneOoOcwA2YWz4tD3HCdbyUbAoDfoOI0hc8TRJta-y3pikD8nkCW7U5xgHDdam4bhuuG-qAIbpEysZ476fPyp93YNK4rcItT7xpL2/s320/41eQIEOkWbL.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I published this humorous fantasy ebook ages ago now, and finished the sequel Bogwood, last year. I need to get busy with my Bucket List for reasons I will divulge some other time, so it's a relief I can finally cross something off. Yay.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2v4_1AA_isUd6iwJpBVFDP9Y_vCVP5QiwA4U0DU1Yx0JBhrEPEHzKLwsHXPJueOfJciFKD-eWTmW1RdBn8Qh7Kn4onDaSYMwbHYdraF0P9kFotteVxN1lVB8PqGDSw9aQapIDlP5JQPkF/s500/41DCP1nZvZL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="375" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2v4_1AA_isUd6iwJpBVFDP9Y_vCVP5QiwA4U0DU1Yx0JBhrEPEHzKLwsHXPJueOfJciFKD-eWTmW1RdBn8Qh7Kn4onDaSYMwbHYdraF0P9kFotteVxN1lVB8PqGDSw9aQapIDlP5JQPkF/s320/41DCP1nZvZL.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>The blurbs;</p><p><br /></p><p>Book one: The Prince of Leaves</p><p><br /></p><p>It is time for Prince Cleo to leave home, to venture beyond the safety of Gillip Kingdom, in search of his inner barbarian.</p>
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<p>What could possibly go wrong when he has a sword-wielding damsel as his chaperone? But will her gift of the gab be a sharp enough weapon to keep the gentle prince safe from the many adversaries they encounter along the way? Or will her smart mouth and over confidence make them both easy targets? </p>
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<p>A playful narrative with a warm romantic undercurrent, The Prince of Leaves celebrates introverts, and challenges gender stereotypes. It is the first book in a humorous fantasy series.</p><p><br /></p><p>Book two: Bogwood</p><p><br /></p><p>A warlock who has been spying on Cleo and Celia since they left Gillip Kingdom, finally makes his move. An opinionated fairy has some moves of her own, and launches an intervention.
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Can anyone save gentle Prince Cleo from the warlock's clutches?
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<p>Will the balloony fellow in a kilt float to the rescue? Or will Celia's bespoke weapons and hair braiding skills weave their own magic?
</p><p><br /></p><p>Both ebooks can now also be purchased in one volume from my amazon author's page;</p><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/author/hollygreen">https://www.amazon.com/author/hollygreen</a></p>
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<p>As with all of my kindle publications, you can read a free sample on the amazon page to see if it might be your cup of tea. </p>
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<p>As you may have noticed, there is a stick insect--or sticky, as I affectionately call them--on the cover of both books...the photogenic star of this runway shoot;</p><p><a href="https://pinholesinthesky.blogspot.com/2012/04/stick-insect-central.html?m=0">https://pinholesinthesky.blogspot.com/2012/04/stick-insect-central.html?m=0</a></p>
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<p>How could I not make him my cover model...he knew how to strike a pose! Perfection! </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-78522922871537788092017-09-03T00:13:00.001-07:002017-09-03T00:27:13.363-07:00Things you should never ask a pharmacist.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjkp5qCoeekrlztYCeil34V2pDWyVD99CPfzkQYpEeI2GeB9mX_cM2wN-gKst03MZH2bAO5fh5bqk0vSFHsYKZ8i1wGW31OVZnbe65cKzTEtkPaM2xkjEzAvP6Mnm6WdQWYZKiZ4RSUWC/s1600/IMG_20170107_232710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjkp5qCoeekrlztYCeil34V2pDWyVD99CPfzkQYpEeI2GeB9mX_cM2wN-gKst03MZH2bAO5fh5bqk0vSFHsYKZ8i1wGW31OVZnbe65cKzTEtkPaM2xkjEzAvP6Mnm6WdQWYZKiZ4RSUWC/s320/IMG_20170107_232710.JPG"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Had an...erm...awkward conversation recently. I asked a pharmacist if he had any pea based powder. He said, "Pardon?" <br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This didn't surprise me, as I often have to repeat myself. I'm prone to mumbling. I get told off a lot for doing this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I said it again, hoping my attempt to speak properly would be well received. It wasn't. He replied, "I'm not quite sure what you mean..." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I noticed the strange intonations in his voice, but still didn't click straight away, because I was actually in quite a bit of pain at the time, and trying not to wince. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then I got it. Oh dear. He thought I meant, "P." In case you are from another country, where I live, "P" is the common name for meth. Or crystal meth. Or Ice. Or methamphetamine. That drug they manufacture on Breaking Bad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv2LLOyHwR3XA8wFdbUGxixM3tTtfwrNrjzFroBqKqPypraJg0eGCNvdGqXbHqXOQ7BSTksmULTYagr19eaeK7SpivwGBbjuyQF68V5nDWLIXAFFwVWr7zpHELIs_PRJjQ7UPDOpVfeOY/s1600/IMG_20170107_232825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv2LLOyHwR3XA8wFdbUGxixM3tTtfwrNrjzFroBqKqPypraJg0eGCNvdGqXbHqXOQ7BSTksmULTYagr19eaeK7SpivwGBbjuyQF68V5nDWLIXAFFwVWr7zpHELIs_PRJjQ7UPDOpVfeOY/s320/IMG_20170107_232825.JPG"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hardly surprising then that asking a pharmacist for some "P" based powder was likely to raise a few eyebrows... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once I realised my mistake, I explained that I meant p-e-a, as in the legume, those dear little nutritious green parcels that the princess couldn't sleep on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Actually, I didn't mention the fairy tale reference, I was way too mortified to think of anything humorous to say at the time. Especially since it's my local pharmacy and I go there a lot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not everyone can embarrass themselves as easily, and as frequently, as I do. It's a special skill. Lucky me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Of course, "p" is also for perfection, and what better way to illustrate that than with a picky of a phantastically photogenic phasmid;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsu-1O5b7qiZ3U5rXC4XK_tO9WTRDulTfCwi5GWRgC0Xkev5qEOn2Jn2mGJhzjxIV2e9vYsQyXUWbREXBr1NLIlv0PJQ0SJqGSXxuIARqmvfSJBce1umpLuJyFnXzN8ilX5DI5k5UKgcBv/s1600/IMG_20170802_132152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsu-1O5b7qiZ3U5rXC4XK_tO9WTRDulTfCwi5GWRgC0Xkev5qEOn2Jn2mGJhzjxIV2e9vYsQyXUWbREXBr1NLIlv0PJQ0SJqGSXxuIARqmvfSJBce1umpLuJyFnXzN8ilX5DI5k5UKgcBv/s320/IMG_20170802_132152.jpg"> </a> </div>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-38665638113142328552017-05-16T00:37:00.000-07:002017-05-16T00:55:18.388-07:00Swimming With Spiders<p dir="ltr">I'm wondering if swimming with spiders will be the next big thing. Surely swimming with dolphins must be getting a bit old by now? <br><br></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxaSZVK3N2_2fpyBfgZtvExBEYbinExbIM9FYb4O1Vrfs9nb8z_wmIxpzhyphenhyphenARR0KZeJ6n2XqFoV2NcOAxyvRSCfOg3hnldbg41KMD-XUb4RxP9vaa2Uhix3VuzWndKo14PSzymwWiADuvJ/s1600/IMG_20161214_151428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxaSZVK3N2_2fpyBfgZtvExBEYbinExbIM9FYb4O1Vrfs9nb8z_wmIxpzhyphenhyphenARR0KZeJ6n2XqFoV2NcOAxyvRSCfOg3hnldbg41KMD-XUb4RxP9vaa2Uhix3VuzWndKo14PSzymwWiADuvJ/s320/IMG_20161214_151428.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have seen spiders on the surface of a pond before, but it was news to me that there are actually water spiders who dive into the water to hunt fish and frogs. Good grief. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not sure I want to picture them doing this, but I have already. Apparently, some water spiders come in giant size, as big as a person's head. Yikes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I do like spiders. If you've been to this blog before, you will probably already know that. I've even posted some homemade spider movies on my youtube channel. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm still not sure I would want to go swimming with them though. And not just because I can't swim. Not well, anyway. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm wondering if the spider at the top of this post decided he wanted to go for a swim in my laundry tub. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I assumed not, which is why I endeavoured to rescue him. He endeavoured to resist my rescue attempts, which significantly hindered progress. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">His raised his front legs, not in an, "Oh I so need a hug! Why, thank you, big friendly giant for offering to pick me up," but more in a, "Come any closer and you die," kind of way. It's all about body language, isn't it. And knowing how to read it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He did quite a good scary spider impression, which persuaded me to proceed with caution. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">His attack modes operandi was an understandable reaction, of course, given my size, and his vulnerability. I'm pleased to announce that I won the battle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A bite-free bug relocation operation was successfully implemented. Isn't he handsome! I believe he is a Tunnelweb Spider, and possibly a female one;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">http://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/Topic/9426</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There has been an interesting assortment of critters requiring rescuing from my laundry tub lately. I'm not sure what the tub attraction is, but you will be relieved to know that I check it regularly so no bug has to perish when they can't get out again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One day I found this adorable baby weta in there;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGRp5Ds2tQe-KfQY1fCypKYOt2CZ6qzzj3YTPpU2k9jnILhnULeN8TqI1Ug_uSoPlryXxoff4_Qlx7NDAQQsxmOqLH4N3gIhlVtu_K16NJyC7_2idPllxUg3o6rHbbK9WSpOiwN1eTGKt/s1600/IMG_20170302_141827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGRp5Ds2tQe-KfQY1fCypKYOt2CZ6qzzj3YTPpU2k9jnILhnULeN8TqI1Ug_uSoPlryXxoff4_Qlx7NDAQQsxmOqLH4N3gIhlVtu_K16NJyC7_2idPllxUg3o6rHbbK9WSpOiwN1eTGKt/s320/IMG_20170302_141827.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then recently, this praying mantis;<br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvODw_HJoZmYyZUCaiFj53dY72mEPzcQciCvjLHu8QsdbLJZbxdtvR9CavMXrI3hyA89oCxn-lUSeGUH-Epl231Bj6-evw4779AVkErUEEYAM1KBlGX0RFjsL29wl0Ts4ZiqXGoFPVRP2u/s1600/IMG_20170418_141424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvODw_HJoZmYyZUCaiFj53dY72mEPzcQciCvjLHu8QsdbLJZbxdtvR9CavMXrI3hyA89oCxn-lUSeGUH-Epl231Bj6-evw4779AVkErUEEYAM1KBlGX0RFjsL29wl0Ts4ZiqXGoFPVRP2u/s320/IMG_20170418_141424.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And here's another photo from a different angle because I couldn't decide which one to upload, so I decided not to decide and just post both;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3cP6cFnI4_aQlLCQq_qsmU_E7NpIqBSBJt0O-9hCiGSGpMWYvrfMmvv1CrB90QhnZKM5nKrdox-1lc69yo9DTbREf7FZUXL0GcVhTAMzHeOKshUNMhlhZy5L8qLX_a7daNryhyC0MLoA/s1600/IMG_20170418_143324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3cP6cFnI4_aQlLCQq_qsmU_E7NpIqBSBJt0O-9hCiGSGpMWYvrfMmvv1CrB90QhnZKM5nKrdox-1lc69yo9DTbREf7FZUXL0GcVhTAMzHeOKshUNMhlhZy5L8qLX_a7daNryhyC0MLoA/s320/IMG_20170418_143324.JPG"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I know this post rescue photo is a bit blurry, but I like the way the praying mantis is staring at me, and this is my blog, so if you object to blurry photos, I suggest you look away now;<br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN-LNQcZU086uckCHVma4DBTcPtMXvuUIK-PF3fhrL7kPpK2V3Z1Q_BHN6OQrZbR7fjWAlSNVy7dfaRTFt-6-MLsApvww52Zb-fm9LNUNEU5AKLQEkKhDp4PK2S3yKRfRkpEi6tv-Fxkt/s1600/IMG_20170418_141630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN-LNQcZU086uckCHVma4DBTcPtMXvuUIK-PF3fhrL7kPpK2V3Z1Q_BHN6OQrZbR7fjWAlSNVy7dfaRTFt-6-MLsApvww52Zb-fm9LNUNEU5AKLQEkKhDp4PK2S3yKRfRkpEi6tv-Fxkt/s320/IMG_20170418_141630.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I found a large furry spider in there recently too, but there was no time to do a photo shoot. Another difficult customer, that one. Sheesh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some spiders I can happily pick up with my hands. This one was just not that kind of spider. Like the other eight-legged beastie up above. Grumpy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wouldn't dare pluck this furry creature out of the laundry tub either;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ9HGHchukK4OrBPiWCHX9GEqMMl-pqVPER_x7yvW0HhqLcZuF4cMQIq9JzLgqVWpBPyifLf9EGAARtOC3NtKIrn69O-Nmap-hw-3jWBrK-sapTumUAKM5JqDFNQ-ZBO7MSVhd_kgb6gL/s1600/IMG_20161219_164357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJ9HGHchukK4OrBPiWCHX9GEqMMl-pqVPER_x7yvW0HhqLcZuF4cMQIq9JzLgqVWpBPyifLf9EGAARtOC3NtKIrn69O-Nmap-hw-3jWBrK-sapTumUAKM5JqDFNQ-ZBO7MSVhd_kgb6gL/s320/IMG_20161219_164357.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He's a bit moody at times too, and likes to make his own decisions about where he wants to be. I'm pretty sure he didn't need my assistance, anyway. Unless he actually wanted to take a bath...<br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii538OtdU05D2hKnIHDG1T0WB0lJrvGI2FnH5bf4fWCf-DySw9UE12PtuWQfIRJD6c7xwLPY_OJIXk440ncpURkc5vx6lfJEGWbtI3UJ-OXDpPEelIPZ51FWz0W5zKOZDZCJAVcIezaYRO/s1600/IMG_20161219_164406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii538OtdU05D2hKnIHDG1T0WB0lJrvGI2FnH5bf4fWCf-DySw9UE12PtuWQfIRJD6c7xwLPY_OJIXk440ncpURkc5vx6lfJEGWbtI3UJ-OXDpPEelIPZ51FWz0W5zKOZDZCJAVcIezaYRO/s320/IMG_20161219_164406.jpg"> </a> </div>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-18229507359743996322016-12-19T22:26:00.000-08:002016-12-20T23:11:29.839-08:00Code Caterpillar.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was standing in the bus shelter the other day and just happened to glance down and what do I see but a little green caterpillar frantically hurtling across the footpath...towards the shelter...<div><br><div>There was a gap under the shelter so he could've made it into the cubicle and if he'd survived the bus patrons' feet, next stop was more footpath, where more humans and their tootsies were lurking. Beyond that was the road. If he'd by some miracle made it that far, a trio of sparrows loitering on the curb would most likely have noticed a green squiggle in motion. A fairly grim prognosis, I'd hypothesize. Not a very sensible itinerary, Mister Caterpillar.</div><div><br></div><div>Naturally, I sprang into action, nervously because I had an appointment to get to and couldn't risk missing the bus, and I know from experience that caterpillars can be very tricky customers.</div><div><br></div><div>They do their damnedest to thwart ones attempts to rescue them. Valuable time molecules are wasted in the ensuing battle. And their delicate disposition requires a gentle approach. This particular caterpillar was in full on panic mode, wriggling wildly in protest. Did he seriously think he had a better plan?</div><div><br></div><div>Luckily the consequence of his boisterous resistance was that he back flipped himself onto my awaiting bus card so I was able to scoop him up and relocate him (before he back flipped himself off again) to a nearby garden.<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlxIZ6xBhAEZ2tH5wYbXCPWIo1mIQetCx2w2Yq7a-bSqCPUuEq-4u7ebSMcWxGCcoqX4jPZbMP3ZmqfeUS9EOCRioSPqd8KF3boprGfiMOwcJOhjI8tAQ0dQNkT6LcjBhIq5NUGK9egspy/s1600/IMG_20160225_201149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlxIZ6xBhAEZ2tH5wYbXCPWIo1mIQetCx2w2Yq7a-bSqCPUuEq-4u7ebSMcWxGCcoqX4jPZbMP3ZmqfeUS9EOCRioSPqd8KF3boprGfiMOwcJOhjI8tAQ0dQNkT6LcjBhIq5NUGK9egspy/s320/IMG_20160225_201149.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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While there were caterpillar style holes in the greenery that I rehomed him in, which suggested he may find himself amongst his own kind, I doubt it was where he started his journey. It was a very windy day and there was a very large tree above the bus shelter, so I think he probably got blown off of his perch.</div><div><br></div><div>As much as I like to help bugs return to their hometown, I wasn't about to scale the tree. Apart from the fact that my unco status dictates that I should stick to just hugging trees and sitting beneath them instead of climbing them, (and that I would've missed my bus, that as well) it was way too windy for such acts of altruism. Would've made some amusing headlines though. Let us peruse a few;</div><div><br></div><div>"Fire department rescues crazy caterpillar woman from treetops."</div><div><br></div><div>"Hypothermic windswept woman's garbled explanation confounds fire fighters: Why was she trying to rescue a caterpillar from a tree?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Fire fighter rescues woman from tree, then searches neighbouring trees in pursuit of cat called Mister Caterpillar."</div><div><br></div><div>"Fire department plead for public to leave caterpillars stuck up trees to their own devices." </div><div><br></div><div>"Fire department rescue guidelines updated after surge of critters stuck up trees calls: cats - yes, caterpillars- no."</div><div><br></div><div>"Tree hugging caterpillar defender back on terra firma and being cocooned by mental health professionals."</div><div><br></div><div>"Woman and caterpillar both recovering well after wild wind sends pair plummeting into path of oncoming bus."</div><div><br></div><div>"Witnesses sought: Woman recovering in hospital, after miscalculating weight bearing capacity of branch, keeps asking nurses if Mister Caterpillar survived the fall. Anyone near the bus stop in question on the morning of the incident who saw a man in a green jumpsuit fall from the tree, or anyone who knows the mysterious Mister Caterpillar's current whereabouts, is asked to contact police."<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ25VwDtRsimV1R3bvtwmCYWVu7Ax6dm8Frl9I_UuZ7Kov6ZMssIL2ExpCoPbfinjexiXRLoV00Qwcy-PjgzhtVPE-FxlMSqJ-70j1_DKdto__FVZzIVR4WsHrLoz1IXc3Hyjg1O7B1l8G/s1600/IMG_20160225_200841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ25VwDtRsimV1R3bvtwmCYWVu7Ax6dm8Frl9I_UuZ7Kov6ZMssIL2ExpCoPbfinjexiXRLoV00Qwcy-PjgzhtVPE-FxlMSqJ-70j1_DKdto__FVZzIVR4WsHrLoz1IXc3Hyjg1O7B1l8G/s320/IMG_20160225_200841.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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I think I like that last idea best. Kinda makes me want to get a green jumpsuit for myself. Maybe Mister Caterpillar could be part of a new wave of super heroes. A crusader for truth and justice who saves the day in a lime green onesie. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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I wonder what his special power would be...the ability to spin himself an invisibility cocoon so he could hide from his adversaries? Has that been done before? I think there's a Moth Man, isn't there. Not sure what he does. Might ask google later. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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Mister Caterpillar would of course be able to traverse any terrain with his sticky feet, (except perhaps the ocean) inching his way up tall buildings, and beneath underpasses. And he would not just be able to scale bridges, he could be a bridge... joining the gap in a broken swing bridge so the terrified little humans stranded on the side where the scary monster is salivating in their direction, could flee to safety. Three cheers for Mister Caterpillar!</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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But wait... let's rewind just a little...I just had a troubling thought...what if <u>Mister</u> Caterpillar was hurtling towards the bus shelter because he also had a bus to catch... Maybe he was worried he might be late for his appointment...</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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Obviously, such a possibility unearths a plethora of perplexing questions... is that why he back flipped onto my bus card in one (now suspiciously) easy move? Did he think, "Sweet! I can hitch a free ride on someone elses card!" </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Or was his back flip accidentally precise, was he really thinking, "What are you doing, stoopid human? Leave me be! Can't you see I have a bus to catch!" As I whisked him away from his spot in the queue, was he cursing under his breath, wondering if it would be too late to reschedule?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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Perhaps the most pressing question, in my mind, at least, is what kind of appointment would a caterpillar need to catch a bus to? A cocoon fitting? An antenatal/metamorphosis class? Or maybe he just had a coffee date? With Moth Maiden?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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I'm not on drugs, btw. I know I've said that before, it's just that sometimes when I read back through what I've written, I find myself thinking, "Huh? Is this woman on something?" so it's easy to see how others might think that too. Truth is, I'm just naturally like this. My brain thinks odd thoughts. Some of them, I share. With you, dear reader. Or dear spammers. Oh wait, the spammers don't actually read this waffle do they...</div>
</div></div>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-44754386205770056092016-09-30T22:07:00.004-07:002016-10-11T22:40:20.655-07:00Pink katydid dining on a rosebud.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some gardeners would grumble at the sight of a bug eating a rose, but not I. Feast on as many rosebuds as you desire, exquisite creature! Consider the garden your own personal buffet!</div>
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And while a picture may be worth a thousand words, there are <a href="https://youtu.be/5fjtAgN4dJg">moving pictures</a> of this katydid to go with!</div>
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Watching this clip almost inspires me to write a poem... stay tuned for an updated version accompanied by a poetry recital soundtrack...</div>
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(It's a pink rose this pink fellow is feasting on, btw, or at least, it would've been.)</div>
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Romance abounds in every garden, if you know where to look... and how to look past...</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-60270896377369308062016-09-24T21:15:00.000-07:002017-01-01T22:49:26.886-08:00Ant antics.<div dir="ltr">
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After numerous observations, I have arrived at the inevitable conclusion that ants are mischief makers. I don't mean in terms of raiding your jam jar or sugar stash, I'm talking about their antics in the insect world. Not only do they farm other bugs, they tease them as well.</div>
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I was admiring a young stick insect resting on a leaf one day when sticky's quiet time was interrupted by three ants who took turns at speeding towards his feet. Amusing to me, and to the ants too, I suspect, but not to sticky. He did not like his feet being tampered with. He would lift up his back foot in protest... then his front foot... then his other back foot... The ants just wouldn't leave the poor fellow alone.</div>
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Maybe sticky had just stood in something sticky, which attracted the ants, but I doubt it. I think they were just trying to mess with his head. Or trying to get him to play tag... can't rule out that possibility, can we...</div>
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I saw some ants doing the same thing to a katydid, and managed to capture a bit of their mischief on film;</div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/yBFhKfhL29s">https://youtu.be/yBFhKfhL29s</a></div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-70934889154916829772016-09-06T01:00:00.001-07:002016-09-06T01:00:27.133-07:00Bug vs Wind: A Stick Insect with Stickability.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As aforementioned, I had to leave Stick Insect Metropolis behind, :( , and while I haven't found such a densely populated sticky community since, I have met a few on my travels. Yay.</div>
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I've also discovered that my phone can record bugs in motion. Yay some more.</div>
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Speaking of motion, and movement, and trying not to move in a counter productive way, I'm not really built for battling against the wind. I'm just too slight... When the weather is wild, I have entertained many occupants of cars that whizz past me as I try desperately not to become airborne on route to the supermarket. Lucky them. Sheltered from the gusts by their metal bits, while I try not to do a Mary Poppins. Grumble grumble. My spindly little frame isn't cut out...or perhaps... suitably assembled...for such challenges.</div>
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Anyhoo, we humans spend a lot of time complaining about the weather, but I think bugs have it worse, which has prompted me to start a short video series; Bug vs Wind, to highlight their daily struggles in this wild wind tunnel we live in. </div>
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Our first film star is a sticky! Wahoo! Isn't she amazing. She's clearly got a system--go with the flow, but never let go... as you swing high and low... I like her MO... Inspirational stuff, if you ask me. Why pay a life coach/therapist when one can glean free pearls of wisdom for surviving in this adapt-or-die world, just by spying on bugs?</div>
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The video is too large to upload here so you'll have to wander over to youtube to admire this stick insect with stickability.</div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/NIu6MOWjO0c">Hi-ho, hi-ho, watch this sticky go!</a></div>
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This last photo is of our film star taking a well earned breather. Such composure. Hard not to be impressed, really.</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-84832359323493683422016-08-14T00:29:00.001-07:002016-08-15T03:09:25.585-07:00Introducing the Camdeerhund<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I went to get my washing in one day, I discovered this intriguing creature clinging to my top. Naturally, I raced back inside to get my camera, but before I could take a photo, it relocated-to my face. Ahem. I waited patiently for it to review its surroundings and I'm relieved to report that it saw sense and flew over to my finger instead. </div>
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It was a bit tricky taking the picture with one hand, but we got there in the end. I can't show you the original because that's on my no longer functional laptop, so this photo of a photo will have to suffice. I think it does this bug justice though, showing off its fascinating form.</div>
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I have named it a Camdeerhund, because it has a camel's hump, a reindeer's antlers, and cute little legs reminiscent of a Dachshund... A new species, perhaps...?</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-54579499080983457972016-07-10T22:58:00.000-07:002016-07-11T01:36:53.841-07:00Code Bee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Out of all the BIPS (Bugs in Peril) I find, the humble bumbles, a.k.a. flying teddy bears, make up a hefty percentage. They just seem to run out of steam, in the most unbumble friendly locations...you know... in driveways and in the middle of footpaths. Good grief. And I thought I needed a minder.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I found one in the driveway recently, so I carted the docile fellow into my kitchen for resus. That's not him posing for this photo shoot, btw. There was no time for such indulgences. Things were dire. He wasn't very lively. I wasn't very hopeful that he would ever be lively again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's remarkable what a little sugar can do. I dissolved some sweet stuff in water in a spoon, and bumble got stuck right in. They're so cute, aren't they, with their little built-in straws. In no time at all, he was all sugared up and rearing to go. I could feel the dramatic change in his energy levels vibrating through my hand. He went from a flat line to full throttle in a matter of seconds. Talk about a sugar buzz. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeADBptDeIL1yh-1NmKSd620VFcuXZjV4RTt7A1vSotyqdJlGLLZxZ7W2TYCehu5bPRPdZui6EgF_nEHDuHSTqROG669VaWXatuTyDJoWcraZMG4LZ8Qd0tCEZ-9pqxPrxhWbaJqKXr9U_/s1600/MVC-012F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeADBptDeIL1yh-1NmKSd620VFcuXZjV4RTt7A1vSotyqdJlGLLZxZ7W2TYCehu5bPRPdZui6EgF_nEHDuHSTqROG669VaWXatuTyDJoWcraZMG4LZ8Qd0tCEZ-9pqxPrxhWbaJqKXr9U_/s1600/MVC-012F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Only problem was that he got it into his dear little head that the next task on his to do list was to fly up my sleeve. I did say, politely, "No, Mr Bumble! The flowers are not up there!" but he kept trying to burrow his way under my polar fleece regardless.<br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeADBptDeIL1yh-1NmKSd620VFcuXZjV4RTt7A1vSotyqdJlGLLZxZ7W2TYCehu5bPRPdZui6EgF_nEHDuHSTqROG669VaWXatuTyDJoWcraZMG4LZ8Qd0tCEZ-9pqxPrxhWbaJqKXr9U_/s1600/MVC-012F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeADBptDeIL1yh-1NmKSd620VFcuXZjV4RTt7A1vSotyqdJlGLLZxZ7W2TYCehu5bPRPdZui6EgF_nEHDuHSTqROG669VaWXatuTyDJoWcraZMG4LZ8Qd0tCEZ-9pqxPrxhWbaJqKXr9U_/s1600/MVC-012F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think he may have had a little too much sugar... We've all been there... I confess I got a little panicky because I could see that having a bumble bee speeding towards ones elbow might not end well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After a stern word or two, I did manage to persuade him to take a moment to reassess his flight plan from the comfort of a small aesthetically pleasing rock, nestled amongst the nasturtiums. Phew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As much as I would've liked to have fetched my camera for a recovery picky, I decided it was imperative that my sleeves and I retreat back indoors, just in case he took off in our direction.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqRUT7i7x66OpBFspo0K9ZolqRB-pngdL9ykzcr7SgapSmhT2ykFWeSPbVu3Km7nbuVgak_RaolzgBq8DXazNisp-Aq0Jl65Ui3c3BKTbzg7oLZaDJkez1q1XR5X9ui0iopGniAn3t4dom/s1600/MVC-027F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The moral of the story? Even bumbles need to watch their sugar intake. And when reviving bees, roll up those sleeves. As if I needed to say that out loud...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-27130463321528765472016-07-03T02:07:00.001-07:002016-07-03T02:07:16.246-07:00And we're back...<p dir="ltr">Yes, well, been a while hasn't it. I didn't deliberately abandon my blog, just so you know, my disappearance was the result of an internet connectivity issue. First my computer decided to no longer let me post anything on here (unsupported browser issue, on account of the unsupported operating system issue, on account of the old clunker of a computer issue) and then it wouldn't even let me access the internet. I did try and post from a library, but couldn't get into my account. Tricky. Then I had no flat to live in either and things have been a little topsy turvy since. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Anyhoo, the important thing is that I have just discovered that blogger has a cell phone app, so here I am, again, to continue my obsession with bugs! Yay! Rest assured that I have been busy collecting photos of adorable bugs in the hope that I would get back online again to share them with other insect admirers so expect an avalanche of pictures in the months to follow. Have a few films to woo you with too, including sticks insects in motion.  Memorable stuff.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWa6XFr0PioZ0EVA98V7PkJtbYa74zlsGfxUJZA5D7jz6peFnGMimaZrFuGSCPdu9TIpw0EN5kzjLrx8yXZlHkHAMkHTEHyrBa-VEA8pH_d8NNiPMcF_9fiqQTr0pybVEhcp8pdlipa3b/s1600/IMG_20150517_124404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWa6XFr0PioZ0EVA98V7PkJtbYa74zlsGfxUJZA5D7jz6peFnGMimaZrFuGSCPdu9TIpw0EN5kzjLrx8yXZlHkHAMkHTEHyrBa-VEA8pH_d8NNiPMcF_9fiqQTr0pybVEhcp8pdlipa3b/s640/IMG_20150517_124404.jpg"> </a> </div>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-86622650281094886962014-06-15T03:08:00.000-07:002014-06-15T03:08:38.163-07:00Aliens in my garden.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMeJiQFmiMTIKCOJr3M5SFBgJBDmUDrSS2QtDVopBjfLoCZKCoV7k-8xaPwcGcQCGM3AoeUtRB_Gpc7DBflbchUndElgSDRRqqN3cPJkLBKQglfZq19W_A6YBrm_xrxKkQ7G7GcmG8YMg1/s1600/mosssticky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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This sweet young maiden seems to have some sort of green garden slime on her back. Might be part of her disguise, I guess, helping her to blend in with her surroundings...in-between photo shoots...<br />
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I know this next picture is slightly out of focus, but it intrigues me. With her face and front legs all blurry, I think she almost looks like a member of the Army of the Dead, from the Lord of the Rings. It's possible you may not see what I see, of course...<br />
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Another option is that those two dark circles on either side of her middle are in fact eyes, meaning that she isn't a stick insect after all, but an alien creature with no body, a long wispy beard, and a cone head...Surely I'm not alone here...?<br />
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-56521841404282088932014-03-01T23:13:00.000-08:002014-03-01T23:13:06.958-08:00Nature's precious jewel.<br />
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Can't really get much more versatile than water, really. You can drink it, cook with it, wash with it, play in it, generate electricity with it, put out fires with it, make plants grow with it, dance in it (insert raindrops keep falling on my head soundtrack here), use it to get from A to B, either by boat, or hovercraft, or walnut shell, if you are Thumbelina. </div>
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You can probably do many more things with water that my brain hasn't connected the dots with yet. But it is both friend and foe. A giver of life, and a taker. You can drown in it. Even if you are on land. Hurricanes. Tsunamis. Floods. Swimming pools. Bathtubs. Puddles. </div>
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And you can also die because of what is lurking in it. Whenever I watch
those wildlife documentaries, the ones about the lions and zebras and
giraffes, I feel an overwhelming urge to go to Africa and build
bridges for the wildebeest. So the crocodiles lurking in the rivers can't get them.<br />
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But yeah, I know what would happen then...the crocodiles would starve...and the wildebeest population would explode...and then the lion population would blossom too, but then the wildebeest would run out of food, and then the lions would as well, so they'd start eyeing up the elephants instead and...and...and so my meddling would upset the delicate balance of the whole ecosystem...<br />
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So I will just have to extend my deepest sympathies to the wildebeesties, and to all of the animals who experience chronic anxiety issues triggered by the very basic need to put their heads down to drink at the local watering hole. Yikes. Imagine that. Having your jugular coveted by creatures in, and out of the water. The perils of being thirsty.<br />
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No element of choice involved though. We all need water. Many animals, including humans, die without it. Many die from drinking it as well, because it's contaminated. It might kill you quickly, or slowly, delivering a lethal dose of bacteria, or other scourges like heavy metals, or parasites.<br />
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But there's something else important we can do with water--admire it, which is the purpose of this blog post, of course. Oceans are a visual feast, as are many rivers and lakes, the unpolluted ones, at least. And let's not forget waterfalls, rock pools, and rainstorms. Hell, I'm often mesmerised by the ensemble of swirls that congregate in my morning coffee. Bewitching. <br />
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But the individual drop is also noteworthy, imo. A delicate jewel. An often mobile one thats whimsical journey has to be captured before it morphs into a different kind of sustenance, like plant food.<br />
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Water is, in essence, a magician. It can be a solid, or a liquid, and can make the transition between the two in an instant, like a chameleon. Fluid with fluidity.<br />
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It can make a dramatic statement of its power in the form of a mighty
glacier, yet still woo us with both the simplicity and complexity of a
single snowflake. It can find a path around many obstacles in its way.
It can take on any shape, and also shape its surroundings. In seconds,
and over centuries. Not only can it descend from the sky above, but it
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It can do other fancy stuff as well, like dissolve solids. Salt. Sugar.
Itself in a different form. And it can dissolve and dilute at the same
time. It really knows how to multi-task, doesn't it.<br />
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Magician, and musician. It can lap playfully, gently, against a rock,
or murmur softly as a warm rain. It can drum roll as a torrential
downpour, or thunder over a waterfall. </div>
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Water is the quintessential nomad. A traveller that wanders through
life weaving in and out of the lives of others. Sheesh. Talk about a
mindboggler. Sure makes my water based brain pulse with intrigue. What
can't water do? Walk on itself...? Maybe...? Actually, yes, I guess it
can, if a snowflake can float before it dissolves... that's water
walking on water, isn't it? It is in my book, anyhoo... <i>Holy water</i>, if
you ask me...
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-67240612854752169972014-01-01T04:06:00.000-08:002014-01-03T02:10:00.877-08:00A Christmas buzz.<br />
I was thinking about Santa the other day. Guess a lot of people do, at this time of year. My thoughts weren't full of anticipation of the gift wrapped delights he might bestow upon me this festive season, however. Santa and I are no longer on speaking terms. Irreconcilable differences. Tis safe to say he won't be making his way down my chimney, or back onto my Christmas card list, anytime soon.<br />
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Anyhoo, I was thinking about him cos I was wondering if the jolly old chap ever tires of his attire. If he ever craves a makeover. I know his devotees expects him to wear a red and white ensemble, but sometimes it's good to shake things up a bit. To challenge those stereotypes. Besides, not everyone can wear red. <br />
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NB, I'm not saying Santa doesn't suit his suit...I would never be so audacious, I'm merely suggesting a change might do him good. It's nice to have options. And I have the perfect alternative outfit for his wardrobe in mind--a bumble bee costume! Imagine that! A stripey Santa! How cute would that bee...<br />
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And of course, Donna and Blitzen, and Rudolph and all the other reindeer whose names I can't quite recall at this point in time...how adorable would they look with matching outfits... Their horns could easily be transformed to look like antennae.<br />
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The symbolism would be spot on, cos we all know how hardworking bumblebees are, and the reindeer can fly too, in defiance of the laws of physics...and they give children everywhere a Christmas morning buzz...and they probably deliver a fair few teddy bears...<br />
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Can you picture it too? Thought so. That's settled then. I shall write Santa another letter, not requesting presents, or complaining about the duds he has dished out in Christmases past, but one with my well thought out makeover plans.<br />
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Best if I send it a.s.a.p., as it will probably take a while to stitch those new costumes. Especially the antennae for the reindeers' horns...I'm guessing they will have to be custom made. Of course, the elves will need matching bumble suits too...since they're a hive of activity and all that...<br />
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Curiously enough, the politicians in my country reside in a building called The Beehive, but that's where the resemblance to flying balls of cuteness ends...<br />
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On the subject of bumbles, I've had to implement rescue plans for quite a lot of them lately. The most dramatic--a bumble was lying on his back waving his little legs about frantically, in the middle of a driveway...the entrance to the supermarket, would you believe. <i>Yikes.</i> There was no time to dither with that intervention. I'm relieved to say that when my finger appeared in his visual field, bumble features latched on without hesitation and was airlifted to the safety of a nearby garden.<br />
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<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-47973974811946497962013-12-01T23:21:00.003-08:002016-09-24T20:57:44.991-07:00Bugs in love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Romance is in the air again, in Stick Insect Metropolis. Don't these two just look like they were made for each other...<br />
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-7350747714263711962013-10-01T22:44:00.001-07:002013-10-01T22:44:08.786-07:00Yoga for bugs.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My verandah seems to be very popular with the stick insect community. Couldn't help but notice this lass doing a headstand;</div>
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When I checked on her the next day she was practicing more advanced poses in her yoga routine. This position doesn't look very comfortable to me; </div>
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Not from this angle either;</div>
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Or this one;</div>
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Rest assured I kept a close eye on her to make sure she didn't venture into the foot traffic area. Luckily the birds didn't notice her yogic stretches. On the third day I was relieved to see she had moved into a more spine friendly position;</div>
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<br />And on the fourth day she did the upside down sticky thing that they do so well;</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-48474744673189376032013-09-01T01:52:00.000-07:002016-09-24T21:01:42.341-07:00Climbing the walls. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm used to seeing bugs in strange places. All the same, I would've liked to have perused a copy of this sticky's itinerary. Where was he heading? Other than up the wall... Was he planning to go around the bend too? He's right beside my front door, so maybe he just stopped by to say hello...<br />
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His side profile is also quite fetching;<br />
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That little dark spot on the wall to his right is a moth. Maybe they made the trip together, an insect bonding thing. Or a competition...<br />
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Just to give you an idea of how far up the wall Mr Sticky and his winged companion were;</div>
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The light is just above my head, so it's quite an epic journey for a bug.<br />
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Later on that day, the sun offered another photo opportunity--a bug and his shadow! Yay! </div>
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Btw, that's a bit of garden debris attached to his bottom, just in case you were wondering. It could, of course, also be the insect equivalent of a fashion accessory;</div>
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Once again, my subject showed how versatile a bug can be when a photo opportunity presents itself;</div>
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Work that camera, sticky;</div>
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I was faced
with the familiar dilemma I experience whenever I see a bug far from their natural habitat...do I intervene? Provide some assistance? </div>
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I've
seen praying mantises climb the walls, presumably to lay eggs, but I do
believe this sticky is a boy...and I was concerned about where he might
end up, like underfoot. (Don't worry, I wrote myself a note--on a
sticky of the other
kind, actually--to remind myself to check for wayward stickys before
setting foot outside...)</div>
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He
stayed in this spot for two days, and then, sure enough, my safety
concerns were realised when I opened the door the next morning and
found him sitting on the actual doorstep. As much as I like to be greeted first thing by an adorable bug, nevertheless, intervention was most
definitely required.</div>
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I hope sticky approved of the flax bush I put him
on... </div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-83981982646162759272013-08-01T03:31:00.000-07:002016-09-24T21:02:26.273-07:00Raspberry maiden.<br />
Dishes are not my idea of fun...unless while doing them I glance out my window and spy an exquisite creature like this lass. Perfect excuse to swap the dishcloth for an image capturing device instead, of course. How could I resist.<br />
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She--assuming I have made an accurate gender diagnosis--is dangling from a raspberry cane, seemingly effortlessly. I don't think I could dangle like that for very long, if at all. <br />
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In fact, I'm going to rebel against the positive thinking brigade and propose that we should focus more on the things we can't do. And celebrate these things, and the creatures who <i>can</i> do them. In the interests of keeping our egos in check. </div>
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Your challenge, should you accept it, is to spend the following week completing this sentence;</div>
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I can't ______ like a _______.</div>
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But back to more important things, like clever bugs...</div>
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This lass did have an admirer--other than me--a much smaller sticky lurking on an adjacent stem who I assume was of the male persuasion. <i>Talk about a cute couple.</i> Just watch out for those prickles, boy sticky. Not only the ones on the raspberry cane. </div>
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Let's admire her spiny bits close up;<br />
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And here's another shot of her doing something that I can't, something remarkable;</div>
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<i>Oh Sticky, you're-so-fine, you're-so-fine-you-blow-my-mind, Stick-y! Stick-y!</i></div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-82336003784187143652013-07-01T17:29:00.000-07:002013-07-01T17:29:42.168-07:00Laughing out loud.A good night's sleep is not a concept I am familiar with. I struggle to get to sleep, and it's a mission to stay in The Land of Nod too. There's always something that wakes me up. <br />
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It might be the wind, or the rain, or their combined effort. Sometimes it's the sounds of suburbia. Other times it's the electricity meter ticking over. That really gets on my wick.<br />
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Then there's the overly dramatic double <i>clunk</i> my fridge makes to alert anyone within earshot that it has cooled itself down sufficiently for the time being. <i>What a clever fridge you are.</i><br />
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Last but not least--as if I really need to say this out loud--there are the convoluted inner workings of my own muddled mind. I'm always finding more rabbit holes to fall into in the wee small hours. My Grandad's nickname for me was Alice, would you believe.<br />
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I'm pleased to announce that a new sleep deprivation technique has emerged. My subconscious--bless it--finds something in my inner realm so amusing, that laughter ensues. Not just a minor giggle, but a full on laughing fit. <br />
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But it's not just a hysterical session in my dreams, it bleeds into the real(ish) world. I laugh myself awake. Intriguing. It appears to be quite hard, or possibly impossible, to laugh and stay asleep at the same time. Kinda like sneezing and keeping your eyes open, I guess.<br />
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It's not just annoying because I really need to maximise my sleep molecules, but also because my subconscious has more than once refused to share the joke. Pretty damn rude of it, if you ask me. While onlookers often have no idea why I'm laughing, I usually do. I think it's important to keep oneself in the loop about these things. <br />
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I do remember one mischievous morsel from my smorgasbord of dreams though. I thought I'd share it with you today, in case it makes you laugh too.<br />
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I was trying to find somewhere else to live during my waking moments, so my subconscious put its own spin on this storyline.<br />
<br />
In my dream I went to check out a place by the ocean. Things were looking promising. The flat was nice. The waves were mesmerising. The landlord seemed like a decent chap. Not shifty. Not sleazy. I saw no hint of disapproval in his face. I got my hopes up. I thought I had found my new abode. <br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSmJlpRgAFlTiwTe2_SkBtNuqJxBKdj9wmLpzFnzCQr4GXKKi9CSlLE82GptyfU0tn44qvGRJ3dQYi5Hfl1W7MKjk1slmikY5a9MqYhfN7ixZ0wVjXWfOlTlo4ZyWrxAmnWQi3vKyq48JE/s1600/ferriswheelbug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSmJlpRgAFlTiwTe2_SkBtNuqJxBKdj9wmLpzFnzCQr4GXKKi9CSlLE82GptyfU0tn44qvGRJ3dQYi5Hfl1W7MKjk1slmikY5a9MqYhfN7ixZ0wVjXWfOlTlo4ZyWrxAmnWQi3vKyq48JE/s320/ferriswheelbug.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was following the guy down the hallway. Polite conversation was present. A couple of steps, mid hallway, were present as well. When I reached them, I took the opportunity to bend down and tie my shoelace. At that precise moment the landlord turned around to say something, stepping back towards me as he did so. <br />
<br />
<i>I head-butted him in the crotch. </i><br />
<br />
Mortified, I fell down in a disheveled heap on the steps, laughing uncontrollably. He lurched off into an adjacent room, shutting the door behind him. I could hear him sniggering away in the background, which made me laugh even more. So much in fact, that I laughed myself awake.<br />
<br />
It's difficult not to choke while laughing when you're lying down, so I had to put myself into the recovery position until the gigglefest was over.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4Em97cd2Mu7l-GCFSsWZwqXLKO2JqJsGEAeaXDs6rVkSZhCBimI4ZB1qpjtO4-fa2eCGFe1FLNAsTruEXg-gHCXLOkyfMTJ0yLVkw4QEOE0ewPGr41M1tSkYA7XSCT4aY0m0YNdFaEGV/s1600/daisybug6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4Em97cd2Mu7l-GCFSsWZwqXLKO2JqJsGEAeaXDs6rVkSZhCBimI4ZB1qpjtO4-fa2eCGFe1FLNAsTruEXg-gHCXLOkyfMTJ0yLVkw4QEOE0ewPGr41M1tSkYA7XSCT4aY0m0YNdFaEGV/s320/daisybug6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I'm happy to acknowledge that waking up laughing isn't so bad. It's a jovial way to start the day. Unless the day hasn't actually begun because it's still only 5am... I didn't manage to get back to sleep. Action replay issues.<br />
<br />
It's by far the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me--in a dream. At least, I think it is. My subconscious might know more about that than I do. Insider information, so to speak. <br />
<br />
I didn't get that flat, obviously. I'm house hunting again though, so will keep a look out for any nice rentals by the ocean. And a look out for steps too, of course. Might wear shoes without laces, just to be on the safe side...<br />
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-72931677398086381652013-06-01T03:33:00.001-07:002013-06-01T03:33:29.400-07:00Waiting for the worms......is a phrase that has a whole new meaning for me now. A few years back I saw a doco about research into the ability of certain parasites to help those with chronic allergies. The little critters release chemicals that suppress the immune system.<br />
<br />
Not for altruistic purposes, obviously. They are called parasites for a reason. They want to hide inside you, and do sneaky blood sucking things without your body knowing what mischief they are making. <br />
<br />
Sounds a bit icky, doesn't it. I think the activities and agendas of internal parasites are enough to make most people squirm (alert: this post is gonna get a whole lot worse from this point forward--painful puns and appalling attempts at alliteration abound), but researchers believe that infection with <i>Necator americanus</i>, a.k.a. the humble hookworm, can be an advantage for atopic folk.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTIS9ybFiy_ExclSSEKKD14iJmCqrXzMeQZzGa9A9HqDL2RW5HqrU9PKr0XoU6yW4TtQJnWhadDAmL7jFmIoU4AHfCl9nNFHHl5lLL1yZDQNksPp-dD-qajGRLwuoxxCIAfO-F3nVcFzT/s1600/katydid3cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTIS9ybFiy_ExclSSEKKD14iJmCqrXzMeQZzGa9A9HqDL2RW5HqrU9PKr0XoU6yW4TtQJnWhadDAmL7jFmIoU4AHfCl9nNFHHl5lLL1yZDQNksPp-dD-qajGRLwuoxxCIAfO-F3nVcFzT/s320/katydid3cropped.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Being someone who adores nature, but is highly allergic to most of its offerings, I'm game/desperate enough to give it a go. A sneezeless spring sounds surreal. Imagine how many more bug photos I could take if I didn't have to keep putting my camera down to blow my nose. Kinda hard to even just hold the camera still when a nasal convulsion is pending. My camera does not appear to be waterproof. <br />
<br />
In summary, I want to get my hooks into some worms, so they can get their hooks into me. <br />
<br />
Not as easy as it sounds, however. My cynical jaded self assures me that parasites are abundant in this world, but I've been told that the species I require is rare this far south. Too cold for them. Typical.<br />
<br />
I have made inquiries further up country, but no luck there. The conversation I had with one laboratory terminated abruptly as soon as the question, "why do you want to buy worm eggs?" surfaced. Oh well.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IZwzXI9M1DBQS6GDzZq74U_7faafplZEl4YsAUHbZT7dstNkMjpuZQgq9HKrVSbq-x6-LrQwx-HRcW9v89yUSi86JnJcJ7SSol3CR1PK6hrMQlsI9fgDqsY-M1WtjQIYNegwJtb9sA_a/s1600/foxglovebugcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IZwzXI9M1DBQS6GDzZq74U_7faafplZEl4YsAUHbZT7dstNkMjpuZQgq9HKrVSbq-x6-LrQwx-HRcW9v89yUSi86JnJcJ7SSol3CR1PK6hrMQlsI9fgDqsY-M1WtjQIYNegwJtb9sA_a/s320/foxglovebugcropped.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sourcing the wrigglers myself from overseas, field trip style,<span style="color: #e69138;"> </span><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/may/23/parasitic-hookworm-jasper-lawrence-tim-adams" style="color: #e69138;">like this guy did</a>, doesn't look very promising either. Air fares to Africa are not cheap. And my passport expired ages ago.<br />
<br />
I also suspect that getting back into the country with my cargo could prove challenging. If I had one of my laughing fits while waiting in
the queue at customs, how suspicious would that make me
look. I may be instructed to<i> step aside</i>--and share the joke.<br />
<br />
As aforementioned, I don't need a reason to giggle, not a legitimate one at least. The jet lag alone would be enough to set me off. I'm not sure the customs officers would understand this personality quirk.<br />
<br />
If they asked me if I was concealing anything internally I would probably hesitate to say no, not because I'm a drug smuggler (because I'm not), but because I'm unsure if one has to declare intestinal parasites. Hookworms are technically a living organism, a foreign one, and our bio security laws are quite strict, with good reason. Economy dependent on agriculture and all that.<br />
<br />
They might request that I state the purpose of my trip to Africa. Not hard to imagine the looks on their faces. And if I admitted beforehand on the declaration form that I had some worms with me, they might want to know which bag they are in...<br />
<br />
But of course, I would be too busy laughing to form coherent sentences anyway...<br />
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<br />
I have doubts about the postal service offering a cheaper/safer alternative. Those bio security laws again. No doubt they forbid the direct importation of parasites. And of course, I would have to find an international worm dealer first.<br />
<br />
I guess that leaves only one option--harvest some homegrown ones. I shall have to relocate to the other end of the country, preferably to an abode that is near a park, so I can spy on doggies out for walkies. Snoop for poop to scoop. <br />
<br />
There might be repercussions, of course, if someone reports my suspicious/weird behaviour. Would the authorities believe my reason for collecting dog doo? Or would they assume I was planning to launch turds at someone?<br />
<br />
I can't help but wonder if uplifting poo is one of those grey areas--legally speaking, I mean. Allow me to explain myself...<br />
<br />
If I put my rubbish out on rubbish day, it's because it's crap I want to get rid of, but if someone other than the rubbish peeps came and took it away, like a stalker, or a private investigator, then I would not be impressed.<br />
<br />
Some dog masters might feel the same, especially if they knew why I wanted it. They might expect remuneration. <i>I may have to pay for poo. </i><br />
<br />
I confess I find that mildly amusing. I can see the headlines already; <i>"feces theft sparks shit storm,"</i> or <i>"stool stealer in deep doo doo."</i><br />
<br />
And of course, it's possible the dogs themselves may object to me coveting their turds. I probably wouldn't stalk pit bulls. Or Pomeranians.<br />
<br />
There would be technical issues to consider as well. No doubt costly ones. I'd need a microscope and some textbooks with very accurate pictures of <i>Necator americanus</i>. Performing a positive ID would be paramount.<br />
<br />
I'd also need gloves, tweezers and preferably a gas mask... and a flat with a private courtyard where the neighbours can't see--or smell--what I'm doing. One with a bit of soil where I can dig a hole to...you know...bury the bits I don't want to keep...<br />
<br />
Uh oh. Getting complicated, again, isn't it...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsW5-R5BZXbI7o9mJ_iivHk7zFclBpenQUeBXuKCdhbyqMjD1zWqFu3eKDU-45aY7Sxh_rPqFfyzQG5mTPlbZNaAnCzbRmdPpNcBHq9KjO3CiVFR8OyQ0pbaHaGS1HkAf036E2WaIp9G0/s1600/hoverflycropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsW5-R5BZXbI7o9mJ_iivHk7zFclBpenQUeBXuKCdhbyqMjD1zWqFu3eKDU-45aY7Sxh_rPqFfyzQG5mTPlbZNaAnCzbRmdPpNcBHq9KjO3CiVFR8OyQ0pbaHaGS1HkAf036E2WaIp9G0/s320/hoverflycropped.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's not just the potential health benefits that intrigue me. If everything
went according to plan, the worms could generate an income for their
host. All I'd have to do is keep harvesting their offspring. I just wouldn't need to forage through dog doo anymore, if you get my drift...<br />
<br />
Not a pleasant process admittedly, but hey, if it helped my
allergic disposition then I would want to share the benefits, spread
the word...and spread the worms...<br />
<br />
And if we put the ick factor aside for a moment, it is the perfect cottage industry, really. Low overheads. No "product" storage costs. Work from home. Portable manufacturing plant/incubator that doesn't need to be plugged into anything (apart from the internet for checking emails and blog stats every now and then.)<br />
<br />
Self-sufficient livestock/employees too, very little husbandry required. No need for training programmes either. Their job description is inbuilt. They just do what comes naturally. And I doubt they need sick days. Not sure what the ACC levies would be like...<br />
<br />
Sounds suspiciously symbiotic to me. <br />
<br />
Plus I like the idea of calling myself a worm farmer. Intensive farming
practices are usually incompatible with my world view, but this is one
instance where I think it would be okay. Hookworms thrive in a small confined
environment. Sunlight is not their friend. <br />
<br />
Would make an interesting conversation starter when that, "And what do you do?" question surfaces. Guess it could be a conversation killer also, depending on the disposition of the person doing the asking. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiaeNmrovolIeWSrxyksKqTlwslgHRNrFthVJAY7auUiXocK8_gUqOJkchZPR2JivzztriUSqTWG3L2VD4U1J7bjC1tudiowraWFKdia7lNXqbiq-zFq517_VL1VO4fClfvyeQcs2cyVJ/s1600/flaxbeetlevert.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiaeNmrovolIeWSrxyksKqTlwslgHRNrFthVJAY7auUiXocK8_gUqOJkchZPR2JivzztriUSqTWG3L2VD4U1J7bjC1tudiowraWFKdia7lNXqbiq-zFq517_VL1VO4fClfvyeQcs2cyVJ/s320/flaxbeetlevert.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1klJfdaiFTzsTM3VNLOe_7vD8N6Z52MJDgNVTloJBG7hlEo5b6QYvVBs4xvj2B4yKTNZqgo_FuoHADldfs0xrJb7EyEB20Ecu4unGumjfk0SsFMg_vW0f2JsI5j0lk_oEWJAYdznTuL6O/s1600/blueflower.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Oh wait...a name for my new enterprise just popped into my head--Book-a-worm.com. I wonder if that url is already taken... I could put a flyer promoting my ebooks in with each egg order, letting my customers know that I'm not just a farmer, but a writer as well......I do like word play...<br />
<br />
Guess I'd have to actually publish some of my books first though...darn...I guess I could get busy with that while I'm...you know...waiting for the worms...<br />
<br />
I reckon worm farming has the added bonus of also being a patriotic thing to do. Agriculture is our main industry here in little ole NZ. I'd like to do my bit for the economy.<br />
<br />
Who knows, maybe in the future instead of being renowned for our surplus of sheep, people will say, <i>"oh yeah, NZ...that's the little country that's crawling with parasites." </i>There's more to us than sheeps, peeps.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFM9qdNDl2ILXxlSZrDnrgOp3M_BGtg_D8mK2I85HzqJQsFctaLT8PNbQvbPAp7bNbzzrva9NwRmmFLUI24BsfcFLjErK1XOK7810NnCRgdJwLfVQm2qvxoUSdBvQEBLshn_fxI3qxO7F/s1600/yellowlupincropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFM9qdNDl2ILXxlSZrDnrgOp3M_BGtg_D8mK2I85HzqJQsFctaLT8PNbQvbPAp7bNbzzrva9NwRmmFLUI24BsfcFLjErK1XOK7810NnCRgdJwLfVQm2qvxoUSdBvQEBLshn_fxI3qxO7F/s320/yellowlupincropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
If you're wondering why in a post about worms, there are only photos of plants and bugs that are not worms, it's because I don't have any pictures of
wrigglers to show you. <i>Yet. </i>And I thought that if talk of worms makes you squirm, you could just ignore my waffle and look at the pictures instead. <br />
<br />
Okay, so I must remind myself that parasites are no laughing matter. They're a major health issue for many people around the world. Let's not pretend otherwise.<br />
<br />
Some schools of thought suggest that worms make allergy problems worse. Once upon a time I did look into doing a cleanse of the herbal variety, as you do, in case any little lurkers were residing within. <br />
<br />
This lead to a very uncomfortable conversation with a woman in a health food shop. I wanted to understand how the concoction she recommended actually worked. She said it didn't kill the worms, it just made them sick...so they would want to leave...kinda like giving them a hangover...<br />
<br />
An awkward silence followed.<br />
<br />
I wanted soooo much to ask her to elaborate, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't transform my disturbing thoughts into words. The look on her face, and the carefully positioned pauses in her sentence, clearly indicated that she didn't want me to ask...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7_XbC8FqeXsKlzwEgKEcH_1HHNbq-r3F5vb18bf2IYFH6tfIW-g-6FJ9NlSV77f9nQ4oXiqwSm_GhhpOCJMykyP-3czYRglDGOnxpCbkIboO_1YrVpbrRPF_dO1F0a46Cuy3kmzx29GB/s1600/yellowcalendulavert.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7_XbC8FqeXsKlzwEgKEcH_1HHNbq-r3F5vb18bf2IYFH6tfIW-g-6FJ9NlSV77f9nQ4oXiqwSm_GhhpOCJMykyP-3czYRglDGOnxpCbkIboO_1YrVpbrRPF_dO1F0a46Cuy3kmzx29GB/s320/yellowcalendulavert.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
I didn't go ahead with the <i>cleanse</i>, btw. Those unanswered questions still bother me though. You don't mind if I them ask out loud, here, in the privacy of my own blog, do you? Be honest with yourself, you need clarification too, don't you...<br />
<br />
We know the herbs make the woozy worms want out...but...well...we need a little bit more information than that...like, you know, when....as in, <i>when do they exit the building? </i>When you are ready to open the gates, so to speak...or do they run to their own schedule? Taking advantage of that element of surprise?<br />
<br />
Not that worms exactly run, of course, I guess it would be more of a wriggle...which sounds even worse, doesn't it...<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALWVHSgh1qJ7VxEu-g8dx8w6SXZxvhPImszSkE-sVu5ataJW8CCBpSgCKKKk5LKufiBxR21fhcvaxB2eNT47WcTCX7USzgjp29fpczIgi0ot-024FiVxCGkD76dUXrK0xW76UbJfkElYr/s1600/cosmos.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALWVHSgh1qJ7VxEu-g8dx8w6SXZxvhPImszSkE-sVu5ataJW8CCBpSgCKKKk5LKufiBxR21fhcvaxB2eNT47WcTCX7USzgjp29fpczIgi0ot-024FiVxCGkD76dUXrK0xW76UbJfkElYr/s320/cosmos.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I'm afraid I have a thirst for even more details. Do they evacuate one by one, each worm adopting the guise of the lone prisoner who burrows to freedom through the prison sewers, (oh I sooo love that movie, although I may have just permanently soiled my memory of it, oh dear), or is it more the shit hitting the fan scenario, the equivalent of a prison riot, where the rebels use brute force and homemade weapons to break through the barricades?<br />
<br />
Are these metaphors working for you? Have I gone too far?<br />
<br />
Would you believe it's actually against my religion to resort to toilet humour. <i>Thou shalt not make poo jokes</i>. What have I done... I must repent... If only a wormhole would open up right about now so I could travel back in time and resist the temptation to hit the publish button...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYPiRG7XLYmH47aPiSGsN6Tx20Ts3D77OLEmvo13pW1_d0avJ43UBOs8yVITNIZCTISnC-PplNMCZCTaUm33TLLKf2owANNmHoEGAEKCa-U3kd8rVR_C6wQm1dguIzyCmm3PH4C8CQmun/s1600/hoverfly.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsW5-R5BZXbI7o9mJ_iivHk7zFclBpenQUeBXuKCdhbyqMjD1zWqFu3eKDU-45aY7Sxh_rPqFfyzQG5mTPlbZNaAnCzbRmdPpNcBHq9KjO3CiVFR8OyQ0pbaHaGS1HkAf036E2WaIp9G0/s1600/hoverflycropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><br /></a>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-56878191429215817302013-05-01T19:03:00.001-07:002013-05-01T20:08:44.570-07:00Flying teddy bears.<br />
Someone once said to me that bumble bees are like flying teddy bears. How apt is that. They're cute, cuddly, and airborne, and according to the scientists, they shouldn't be able to even leave the ground. The miracle of improbable flight.<br />
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Okay...so now I'm getting an image in my head of real teddy bears,
flying. They're wearing goggles and helmets, and little backpacks presumably full of teddy bear necessities, just in case you were wondering.<br />
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They haven't
actually left the ground yet though, because they're firing up the gas
in the teddy bear sized hot air balloon that's parked outside my front door. It takes time to inflate those things. Has to be done properly.<br />
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Two of them are deep in discussion about where in the basket the picnic hamper should go. It does look quite heavy. No doubt laden with teddy bear treats. Makes sense to do the maths. Balloons are a bit of a balancing act. Don't want any teddys overboard, or flattened by bulk kitchen utensils, because of a miscalculation. That would be...<i>un-bear-able...</i><br />
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Uh oh...one of the teddys has just been <a href="http://pinholesinthesky.blogspot.co.nz/2012/08/the-hawks-are-circling.html"><span style="color: #b45f06;">plucked from my verandah by a passing hawk!</span></a> Eek! He's waving though, which I will
assume is a good sign. Must be a glass-half-full kind of chap. That's the spirit. Think of it as an adventure. A bird's eye view, almost, of the spectacular scenery. Up until the moment when you are dropped into the nest...or the ocean...<br />
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I can take comfort in the knowledge that the hawk isn't planning to harvest his flesh since he isn't a real boy, but having said that, I guess the stuffing in a teddy would make a nest quite...erm...well...nesty...<br />
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Let's just hope the hawk has kleptomaniac tendencies and an empty nest furnished with an extensive--intact--soft toy collection. If only I had a pair of binoculars to monitor the bear's progress...<i> Hang in there, teddy...</i><br />
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Anyway...back to bumbles... It hasn't escaped my attention that they really
know how to colour coordinate themselves. They look good with any shade
of flower. Who would've thought yellow and black stripes would be so
versatile. I don't think I could pull it off. Don't
have the right skin tone. Sigh.<br />
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Looking pretty in pink;<br />
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And pretty<i> in</i> the pink;<br />
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Mellow in yellow;</div>
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A delight in white;</div>
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Oops, apologies, bumble, didn't mean to intrude. As you were;</div>
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I know we've already admired the bumbles amidst the globe artichokes before, but I just can't resist slotting another picky into this post as well. The way this bumble is sticking out his back legs just cracks me up every time I look at it. </div>
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Perfection in purple;</div>
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As you may have noticed by now, none of these "teddy bears" are actually flying, but their locations clearly hint at aeronautical activity.<br />
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I had to perform an emergency bumble rescue recently when I spotted
one head-butting a window...on the fourth floor of an inner city
building. What he was doing up there, other than panicking, I do not
know. It's not like there were any flowers up at that level. No wonder they
tire themselves out. <br />
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This high flyer needed a rest from his globe exploration. Serene in green;</div>
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And looking seriously cuddly. Very teddy bearish, imo;</div>
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Speaking of rescues...I had to perform another intervention last week. I went to fill up the bird feeder--a.k.a. a jar lid--on my verandah, and discovered a bumble huddled in it. I gasped at first because I assumed he'd been pecked to bits, but I'm relieved to say he had no obvious injuries.<br />
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Not a very smart place to catch forty winks, of course. I don't know if birds eat bees, and I'm not sure I want to know. I expect they do.<br />
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I relocated teddy bear features to a nearby cornflower. He went right back to work, but his burst of energy didn't last very long. Another nap was called for. Somewhat safer place to take one, me thinks. Doubt the hawks would spy you there, bumble. A nosy parker like myself, on the other hand;</div>
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Ya know, despite my "incompatible with the colour yellow" status, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of dressing up in a bumble costume anyway. Just for the hell of it.<br />
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Obviously people would think I'm a freak, wearing a bug outfit at my age. If I was five I'm sure they'd smile. They'd probably smile now that I am not five, but their grin would have a different meaning. But hey, it would be naive to think that people don't already consider me a freak. Gotta be realistic about these things.<br />
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I might get away with the transformation the first time. I imagine there would be a few polite, possibly even jovial inquiries as to whether I'm attending a fancy dress party, or a school fair, or some other festivity where it is socially acceptable to adopt a dress code outside of the norm.<br />
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But when I reveal that my choice of clothing is not prompted by a special occasion, just a desire to honour the humble bumble, I reckon that's when the smiles might turn to sniggers. Or grimaces.<br />
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<i>So bee it. </i><br />
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The important thing is that dressing in bumble attire, would make <i>me</i> smile. And laugh. And then of course, I would fall down because initiating my "flight plan" and laughing would be incompatible. I would be a giggling disheveled stripey heap, cluttering up the footpath.<br />
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I should probably consult the DSM first, to make sure that reinventing oneself as an insect isn't one of those diagnostic criteria that invites involuntary commitment to a mental institution. Just to be on the safe side. I reckon I'd bee all right. It's not like I'm planning to sting anyone.<br />
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There are also other issues to consider. To be a bee, when you are not a bee, isn't as simple as it sounds. (Why do my ideas always end up so complicated?) I predict that I may have to make my own costume. Doubt you can just buy one off the rack. Unless you are five.<br />
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But I reckon I would need two costumes, a spare for when one is in the wash... And possibly another slightly altered outfit if the day wear version doesn't make the transition to sleep wear very well. Depends on what I make the wings out of, I guess.<br />
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And I will have to work on my <i>buzzzzzzzz</i> if I'm going to be a credible bumble impersonator. Sound bites are so important these days, aren't they.<br />
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Hmmmm...I know...time to face facts... My delicate frame suggests I'd make a more convincing stick insect than a bumble bee. Those super spindly arms. Very stick-like.<br />
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But I can live with that. Slightly more challenging costume wise though. I would definitely have to make my own. And my efforts might be too ambiguous. Onlookers might ponder, "why is that woman/freak dressed like a twig?"<br />
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Oops. Another elongated post. I have been waffling on again, haven't I...rambling on...or perhaps, <i>bumbling on...</i><br />
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Let's wrap it up with some more pickys. One of my favourite flowers is nigella. To find a nigella bloom accessorized with one of my favourite bugs...ahhhhh...what more could a chick with a camera ask for.<br />
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Looking bumbilicious in blue;</div>
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From every angle;</div>
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Especially from behind;</div>
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You adorable little teddy bear, you;</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-55732290052962511832013-04-02T14:56:00.001-07:002016-09-25T22:49:50.062-07:00Romance isn't dead...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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...at least, not in little critter land...</div>
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I reckon bugs can teach us a thing or two about the gentle art of wooing. Except perhaps praying mantises...and maybe not those black widow spiders either... Hmmmm....okay... I may have to rethink this hypothesis...let's stick to romance lessons sticky style, shall we? </div>
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I didn't see many stickys over the summer. It has been an unusually hot dry one though, so maybe that's why. I'm pleased to announce that they are now back, on mass, stickys galore! And just as amorous as ever. Good grief.</div>
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You could be forgiven for thinking at first glance that there is only one bug in this photo; </div>
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But if you look a little closer;<br />
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You will see that there are in fact two stickys, uniting as one;<br />
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No room for misinterpretation from this angle, which is why censorship is required;</div>
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But stickys aren't a love em and leave em, kind of bug. They stick together, in more ways than one. Here they are, post embrace, still embracing;</div>
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And I have to include this photo, because the female sticky even took time out from canoodling to wave at the camerawoman!;</div>
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But just after the salutation, a gust of wind dislodged the happy couple and they fell off the fern. Not to worry though, they clung to a flax leaf instead, still together. Such devotion. I am in awe. Don't they cast an adorable shadow;</div>
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When I checked back later they had gone from shadow dancers, to shade lovers. It was quite a hot day, so a sensible move, imo;</div>
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And here they are doing their "we are one" thing again. Ahhhhhh...;</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8000023801283138382.post-78635916775062266162013-03-01T03:29:00.000-08:002013-03-01T03:29:29.636-08:00The Artistic Life of Bugs.I think it is about time we paused to formally acknowledge the creative endeavours of the insect community. Or, put simply, let's admire some bug art.<br />
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I can see the humour in this piece. Not sure the subject would find it amusing;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjgxExCVelufBZZJbAokTjHMpZEGFSI1CbSpRAvFm07XSjFMBsNr_0bw14WqhgeijjkWddoiakeLLtGvsDJgmEnW8YDHIrWZ2z8AxnHQ43afbArsq413yTAyKk-ygFYpns1owM0KaukKy/s1600/chompeddaisycropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwjgxExCVelufBZZJbAokTjHMpZEGFSI1CbSpRAvFm07XSjFMBsNr_0bw14WqhgeijjkWddoiakeLLtGvsDJgmEnW8YDHIrWZ2z8AxnHQ43afbArsq413yTAyKk-ygFYpns1owM0KaukKy/s320/chompeddaisycropped.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_wG0GmLy8i3WFSARnExHkwAgZBp2i4ELupTOGEADki_D-MBvIWoYuE4c6UcSYhdnB0q98DVM10j2zAhwH-8tTHMr-mYaQpWO07MKaU8RrKeFtieQg9mr5Ho5-rfzMOUpHASvOxIkkIGB/s1600/bugartcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIBtMVNMwdUxEzmNUVZX7ykRsshRAcrGsvSBlFBc2wYJbLGYKC-GiGe_3kTNGcd_QhMEBSmpZYFHkH3zwkJkh-gWubuYOxLsBkCCzK2nX9kIq8802ajDNZjCLItszuvnTgeBGYwVHeuab/s1600/gladedaisy8cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ioSf_uuAFI0g3TxV7c-newSWCDMCwGZ2q7CuHgEfJT_A5CDmhF9aAAuI30sDdOrx1mukQp-fd9EQwh4256Zq7V3NFJ9b-AA6s-IHVJhb7imhPwNPZve7AohxKns5W2YhcKL9wz3pKunB/s1600/spiderartcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a> </div>
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And this one makes me chuckle too. Such attention to detail, with a dash of whimsy;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIBtMVNMwdUxEzmNUVZX7ykRsshRAcrGsvSBlFBc2wYJbLGYKC-GiGe_3kTNGcd_QhMEBSmpZYFHkH3zwkJkh-gWubuYOxLsBkCCzK2nX9kIq8802ajDNZjCLItszuvnTgeBGYwVHeuab/s1600/gladedaisy8cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIBtMVNMwdUxEzmNUVZX7ykRsshRAcrGsvSBlFBc2wYJbLGYKC-GiGe_3kTNGcd_QhMEBSmpZYFHkH3zwkJkh-gWubuYOxLsBkCCzK2nX9kIq8802ajDNZjCLItszuvnTgeBGYwVHeuab/s320/gladedaisy8cropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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I would like to know who wrapped up this parcel. Not in a confrontational,<i> how dare you disfigure a flower way</i>, just to clarify, but in a <i>oh, how intriguing, tell me, what inspired this work?</i> kind of way instead;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_2ErL3ioi5LQ1DqLt9BzPw9YgGivfR4DlkTRFB9HiLWQ2GC1FskjGCCISDcsfhzEfxTRJ57Lm-M8RsHD016IXWD5pYmsXfKNw3s7i5OrNSYRToL-h60dAdN8PhxR47WymxyUeIyoZiT0/s1600/gladedaisy8.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZox71WwLpiklumxU4zSLLr5yu9hrzsQDnsBu-privt15Ytng5IhBl1BCcUL9yZjsUkgc8L13ivU8wUn9ccL9hqIG8oltpe4FmabKaRuvDiUCRESO_juAiyTs4aD3ojsMTW1qIVrNo8CL/s1600/daisycropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZox71WwLpiklumxU4zSLLr5yu9hrzsQDnsBu-privt15Ytng5IhBl1BCcUL9yZjsUkgc8L13ivU8wUn9ccL9hqIG8oltpe4FmabKaRuvDiUCRESO_juAiyTs4aD3ojsMTW1qIVrNo8CL/s320/daisycropped.jpg" /></a> </div>
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I imagine the creator of this piece to be the passionate impulsive, maybe moody type who works her/himself into a frenzy. I wonder how long it took to sculpt...I'd be curious to meet the muse;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_wG0GmLy8i3WFSARnExHkwAgZBp2i4ELupTOGEADki_D-MBvIWoYuE4c6UcSYhdnB0q98DVM10j2zAhwH-8tTHMr-mYaQpWO07MKaU8RrKeFtieQg9mr5Ho5-rfzMOUpHASvOxIkkIGB/s1600/bugartcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj_wG0GmLy8i3WFSARnExHkwAgZBp2i4ELupTOGEADki_D-MBvIWoYuE4c6UcSYhdnB0q98DVM10j2zAhwH-8tTHMr-mYaQpWO07MKaU8RrKeFtieQg9mr5Ho5-rfzMOUpHASvOxIkkIGB/s320/bugartcropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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I like the way this artist had balanced the colours in this work with a strategically placed aphid;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEzfDK8i5TSQCk9HibwsXiv1a2pT2wQspHUdlMw5XxbZKdRYgyPaVGytZEcZ0mgb99gXLPbubRd9ICeeUQkldyRQd3IVCS4cUrVUw07ISP25LmPHPD0KIvf2_nIkVUI8rrkfvIW2CUa8S/s1600/calendulacropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEzfDK8i5TSQCk9HibwsXiv1a2pT2wQspHUdlMw5XxbZKdRYgyPaVGytZEcZ0mgb99gXLPbubRd9ICeeUQkldyRQd3IVCS4cUrVUw07ISP25LmPHPD0KIvf2_nIkVUI8rrkfvIW2CUa8S/s320/calendulacropped.jpg" /></a> </div>
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I didn't think I could appreciate abstract art until I saw this piece. I find myself speculating on the symbolism. Where did the artist's journey begin? Where did it end? Or is it unending? Is the artist still lost in their own inner maze?...hmmmm...deep stuff...art is supposed to make you think, isn't it. Mission accomplished;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3IGpcm4jnDdWqUaI46ywGeNN7b_BrXR0CQ89UwCoiT8ohCOXC0qxYZpMzijqJL6sNYerxkUK-tO_vn7RW_cZv6YxeAwbJQVw3Qm_5QfZkrAzVpRpAnAwkip2jZeNPtqi2eQ10AqxGzEA/s1600/puhaart2.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw3IGpcm4jnDdWqUaI46ywGeNN7b_BrXR0CQ89UwCoiT8ohCOXC0qxYZpMzijqJL6sNYerxkUK-tO_vn7RW_cZv6YxeAwbJQVw3Qm_5QfZkrAzVpRpAnAwkip2jZeNPtqi2eQ10AqxGzEA/s320/puhaart2.jpg" /></a></div>
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And another more elaborate work in a similar vein, possibly suggesting a more convoluted case of inner turmoil;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJH2I-yErdyM1zmf0hMKRDX1y5xpW1eiuTJpc9hQJhSkkCq1jnk2riB1fbxGmGURAM_mAjrmhHlLqtqFWZJOibm_V0TewI1KmsQlWPtDu2RwE3_G3-wMgs4xpg9poTGtFZgYJHXFfMJ7Zg/s1600/puhaart.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJH2I-yErdyM1zmf0hMKRDX1y5xpW1eiuTJpc9hQJhSkkCq1jnk2riB1fbxGmGURAM_mAjrmhHlLqtqFWZJOibm_V0TewI1KmsQlWPtDu2RwE3_G3-wMgs4xpg9poTGtFZgYJHXFfMJ7Zg/s320/puhaart.jpg" /></a> </div>
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For some reason, this picture makes me think of a Ferris wheel. Nice work, spidey; <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ioSf_uuAFI0g3TxV7c-newSWCDMCwGZ2q7CuHgEfJT_A5CDmhF9aAAuI30sDdOrx1mukQp-fd9EQwh4256Zq7V3NFJ9b-AA6s-IHVJhb7imhPwNPZve7AohxKns5W2YhcKL9wz3pKunB/s1600/spiderartcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ioSf_uuAFI0g3TxV7c-newSWCDMCwGZ2q7CuHgEfJT_A5CDmhF9aAAuI30sDdOrx1mukQp-fd9EQwh4256Zq7V3NFJ9b-AA6s-IHVJhb7imhPwNPZve7AohxKns5W2YhcKL9wz3pKunB/s320/spiderartcropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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And here's an example of functional art, art that pays, that puts food on the table;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHO2W2Q2dlFvuOMqU50hKPbuzlhj65SQmAA4iFdhHqCQcRwbqbb7j04K-Fs_p-I9YSgFIj0M4dYmZmp2HmteySxQOGfPwaxBNcyGOVGswxmv8LOJBY-As8ZkFjjCddwuYdy9oT5iR5r2Bp/s1600/cobwebcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHO2W2Q2dlFvuOMqU50hKPbuzlhj65SQmAA4iFdhHqCQcRwbqbb7j04K-Fs_p-I9YSgFIj0M4dYmZmp2HmteySxQOGfPwaxBNcyGOVGswxmv8LOJBY-As8ZkFjjCddwuYdy9oT5iR5r2Bp/s320/cobwebcropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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I love the way this next artist has opened up a window to bring the background into the foreground, allowing the viewer to appreciate the delicate form of the fern fronds. Works for me; <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaYCfackHuubFmizKJ885-yv7qzeKxC9rIlv0p2idX4TIdr6dNHCh1FS29H9Pefzxz40aQeEJy9J-EdAAPwYiXwpXtGXfSqN9f3YYE5MdX61ZkYggIUNwrqirCOAwwot15NZ837AP4Pfy/s1600/chewedleaves.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZaYCfackHuubFmizKJ885-yv7qzeKxC9rIlv0p2idX4TIdr6dNHCh1FS29H9Pefzxz40aQeEJy9J-EdAAPwYiXwpXtGXfSqN9f3YYE5MdX61ZkYggIUNwrqirCOAwwot15NZ837AP4Pfy/s320/chewedleaves.jpg" /></a> </div>
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This piece is one of those clever trick photos like those pictures they show you in psych 101. At first, it seems as if the artist is using the redesigned leaves as a window too, drawing our attention to the fetching sky beyond, but when you look at it closer, you see a witch, with long flowing hair and a really big nose...holding onto her broomstick...at least, that's what I see...but hang on...it could be a seahorse instead...<br />
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Ah...the joy of art...a personal and deeply subjective experience for every one of us...beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiSFjPaH6oKGiJPILsPnEUCdN2wQaJwgyc6Vrk_obUgIaEhJ7ghjxbChL65Fam_oT8YXSud8rSi-phY-j3Ast5ut5dLcW-6RVZKHMLuB7YZEDlTHqj1ZqgFyqylM06ZNK20BHfRkq_FEU/s1600/leafskyvert.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNiSFjPaH6oKGiJPILsPnEUCdN2wQaJwgyc6Vrk_obUgIaEhJ7ghjxbChL65Fam_oT8YXSud8rSi-phY-j3Ast5ut5dLcW-6RVZKHMLuB7YZEDlTHqj1ZqgFyqylM06ZNK20BHfRkq_FEU/s320/leafskyvert.jpg" /></a> </div>
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But wait...if I look at the same picture from this angle, I see a dragon...one with a slightly shorter tail than I would expect to see on such a creature, admittedly...but a dragon, nonetheless...one seeking shelter from the midday sun, under a parasol...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-WFhgPLj6CYsGrv3wC6tCaXUrigYqbQ7-pRas38SDaylVf6qipiGC6OzWSoJonWsdeNOFaOPYvtPGIBVbx2kGwqjfk6w-5ilBiyS-CYdZZjuDCDV6-W25e0XgAnXWPHt2921LSl35uTs/s1600/leafskyhorizontal.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-WFhgPLj6CYsGrv3wC6tCaXUrigYqbQ7-pRas38SDaylVf6qipiGC6OzWSoJonWsdeNOFaOPYvtPGIBVbx2kGwqjfk6w-5ilBiyS-CYdZZjuDCDV6-W25e0XgAnXWPHt2921LSl35uTs/s320/leafskyhorizontal.jpg" /></a> </div>
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And if we flip the picture this way, I see at least three cloaked figures clinging to the mast of a pirate ship...except one of them is wielding an axe...which makes me speculate that they may not be clinging to the mast much longer...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTgpHm8M6c3DE80Wa09WbwLTNuKDGYhs_7MsmzTFpOZtjC94m6h3KdOyIdQtYaI-UJC8pqtmOgGEvR1MOpneQvlroIhB-wAVN_Pj4cwqcmUr9CBAgVfm_6knwivui1OnP39eNS37-MX83q/s1600/leafskyvert180.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTgpHm8M6c3DE80Wa09WbwLTNuKDGYhs_7MsmzTFpOZtjC94m6h3KdOyIdQtYaI-UJC8pqtmOgGEvR1MOpneQvlroIhB-wAVN_Pj4cwqcmUr9CBAgVfm_6knwivui1OnP39eNS37-MX83q/s320/leafskyvert180.jpg" /></a> </div>
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I don't know about you, but if I were one of those figures, I would
probably give some thought to my predicament and realise that holding
onto the pole wasn't going to achieve much, and that it might make more
sense to try and restrict the activities of the lunatic with the
axe...especially if the sharks are circling...but hey, one doesn't
always think straight under pressure, so who am I to criticize...<br />
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I did flip the picture again, but still only saw a witch, just a horizontal one. Maybe I need to study it a bit longer.<br />
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Now, I couldn't post a blog
entry about bug art without some pictures of the artists themselves at
work in their studios, could I? If you've read my previous post, you might recognise this fellow as a Magpie Moth nymph. As you can see, this piece is almost complete. Are those heart shapes you are drawing, Mr Caterpillar, or do you have a fetish for Mickey Mouse ears?;</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9PoH5hjz9Lpb3fb_bB7Y_3QWPO94oLbgq0FOC9T12HfkpdATq8cYcgKaJNORs1oqowY5QB97dWjRJd6hdiCkhKH65nmsOR-M7D2b8C6whkDjixkHRmwMdyQ55g-xlXG1r4rEyBgxGVCc/s1600/bugartist.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9PoH5hjz9Lpb3fb_bB7Y_3QWPO94oLbgq0FOC9T12HfkpdATq8cYcgKaJNORs1oqowY5QB97dWjRJd6hdiCkhKH65nmsOR-M7D2b8C6whkDjixkHRmwMdyQ55g-xlXG1r4rEyBgxGVCc/s320/bugartist.jpg" /></a> </div>
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This artist has only just started his masterpiece. Obviously, all that chomping generates some...ahem...waste material... The above caterpillar looks like he has the luxury of a separate toilet...assuming that those specks are indeed caterpillar doo...not like I've sent them to a lab for analysis, or anything...just guessing...The specks could be caterpillar crayons, for all I know;<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmwv-GlfNfapwRsZu_ZbR_t4nd8pZxFfXO8TQaJ_-hvo6pbgas1VP9PEy5WY1kYtIRHvYN_7vs3Q71LW5iW2YS811xLdvjtngjIz7ufWxkjxM7O_aZPLgaMbmnJANZ9_M_hoEXawxbbTu/s1600/bugartist3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmwv-GlfNfapwRsZu_ZbR_t4nd8pZxFfXO8TQaJ_-hvo6pbgas1VP9PEy5WY1kYtIRHvYN_7vs3Q71LW5iW2YS811xLdvjtngjIz7ufWxkjxM7O_aZPLgaMbmnJANZ9_M_hoEXawxbbTu/s320/bugartist3.jpg" /></a> </div>
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And here is a shot of both artists at work. I wonder if they keep tabs on each others creations. Would be easy enough to take a peek, wouldn't it. For them to glance over their shoulders... To spy on one another... Do caterpillars have a competitive streak? Or is it a collaborative project, a joint installation, perhaps...<br />
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Maybe an easier question to answer might be--do caterpillars actually have shoulders...I wonder what google has to say about that;</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgqzumgVHaDX9ZyKjjd_h7syRHnxVPqpSeQmMEg-8htIsPCtgwuHAWIwdOQbe_gI1eM8vPOTbSVstF0muxTPFuPULnRLtW6K1zViRbUT-J6cmKbqngEP9a7gLH1XAEv4WFVRx6a962AX2/s1600/twobugartistssharp.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgqzumgVHaDX9ZyKjjd_h7syRHnxVPqpSeQmMEg-8htIsPCtgwuHAWIwdOQbe_gI1eM8vPOTbSVstF0muxTPFuPULnRLtW6K1zViRbUT-J6cmKbqngEP9a7gLH1XAEv4WFVRx6a962AX2/s320/twobugartistssharp.jpg" /></a></div>
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And here we have a close up of an artist with his brush at the ready. I think he looks a bit guilty, actually, like he's about to scribble graffiti on the verandah. Go right ahead, Mr Bumble, consider my verandah your canvas;</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8HynbMCtTk9eqh83S9UPxfSq1Lsh04VAV8_o9VKfkC6RTCRYBpz8Lq6mPCdUyaKmJf9K3VuN6OH5ydIKv70UodFgHjFy1DW0EB3-lvc-Cbj15Lwt4gFpGTTUj8w98rtrVdXdJ7cruaav/s1600/beeonverandahcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8HynbMCtTk9eqh83S9UPxfSq1Lsh04VAV8_o9VKfkC6RTCRYBpz8Lq6mPCdUyaKmJf9K3VuN6OH5ydIKv70UodFgHjFy1DW0EB3-lvc-Cbj15Lwt4gFpGTTUj8w98rtrVdXdJ7cruaav/s320/beeonverandahcropped.jpg" /></a></div>
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Finally, let's just admire this fellow, acknowledging that every bug is a work of art in its own right, a little pocket of perfection in an imperfect world;</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpnT8VbODdJXJbvkq1ZrYN3OiCio779lajISTeCd5RFtNpKlRTDRbEi2ST3bCQV0OKxFSV787poMT6K6tj9N1BvTacK4KP1EscSDf6hfBXgc8u1S0v3lSybi9Ld7MRANG6qMlsNq6cT8ZR/s1600/twobugartists.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbmwv-GlfNfapwRsZu_ZbR_t4nd8pZxFfXO8TQaJ_-hvo6pbgas1VP9PEy5WY1kYtIRHvYN_7vs3Q71LW5iW2YS811xLdvjtngjIz7ufWxkjxM7O_aZPLgaMbmnJANZ9_M_hoEXawxbbTu/s1600/bugartist3.jpg" imageanchor="1"> </a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHO2W2Q2dlFvuOMqU50hKPbuzlhj65SQmAA4iFdhHqCQcRwbqbb7j04K-Fs_p-I9YSgFIj0M4dYmZmp2HmteySxQOGfPwaxBNcyGOVGswxmv8LOJBY-As8ZkFjjCddwuYdy9oT5iR5r2Bp/s1600/cobwebcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8HynbMCtTk9eqh83S9UPxfSq1Lsh04VAV8_o9VKfkC6RTCRYBpz8Lq6mPCdUyaKmJf9K3VuN6OH5ydIKv70UodFgHjFy1DW0EB3-lvc-Cbj15Lwt4gFpGTTUj8w98rtrVdXdJ7cruaav/s1600/beeonverandahcropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwKG41Sb9poD-Rye2-4uSWC2700cEyzaSreyvsdK9-m_3nGj3dKsz4JNhNrvqcnkaJgNLn6hDsuoNTnLzWGUQVn8PcriFfbvlqqtkIsJZ4o5zRULz9tZM5D94vOfp76j4_dLBaZrQa-CW/s1600/spittle.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEzfDK8i5TSQCk9HibwsXiv1a2pT2wQspHUdlMw5XxbZKdRYgyPaVGytZEcZ0mgb99gXLPbubRd9ICeeUQkldyRQd3IVCS4cUrVUw07ISP25LmPHPD0KIvf2_nIkVUI8rrkfvIW2CUa8S/s1600/calendulacropped.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCjqaIVavcwsz1f0GtEIHwq_4x1Rg_WKqiDJEMFSwfYMj0Hk7utc0I8wY8SychK3ZUyHiHTOx02vCDJXrLQh_g7emT3-HYcD9Z8mxM6hA91Xl5a9u-LHK2cQWAA-opiIsMMIYqlXEc3tT/s1600/spittle2.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjEddwi8Zw0dJ1yP5WrbnkVoMSqpFQRfW0gS-hPcgsjzQ0SpyPP2bPX5McTAmnsvqlNG9vJ0rK816uV6cO7OQhcHnmpq7jWK3qw1rUHA3sld2ueVujJ_yCfaCjExGjLl7v9lMhZe4198t/s1600/cicadaonleafvert.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjEddwi8Zw0dJ1yP5WrbnkVoMSqpFQRfW0gS-hPcgsjzQ0SpyPP2bPX5McTAmnsvqlNG9vJ0rK816uV6cO7OQhcHnmpq7jWK3qw1rUHA3sld2ueVujJ_yCfaCjExGjLl7v9lMhZe4198t/s320/cicadaonleafvert.jpg" /></a> </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEf-CU7KY2Xgt6eQ68GgvFPxvRfrrrx-RmiFpnerYcHUrNgnt1YuTX-x0idb1jL-4Y0SyWvkVzuH895aYRa2gwe30V5oNx0tBKUl6A4QILSzuXK82efXBE_RDUZa1Fi01oinVN1BkH1n_/s1600/cicadaonleaf3.JPG" imageanchor="1"><br /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTgpHm8M6c3DE80Wa09WbwLTNuKDGYhs_7MsmzTFpOZtjC94m6h3KdOyIdQtYaI-UJC8pqtmOgGEvR1MOpneQvlroIhB-wAVN_Pj4cwqcmUr9CBAgVfm_6knwivui1OnP39eNS37-MX83q/s1600/leafskyvert180.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-WFhgPLj6CYsGrv3wC6tCaXUrigYqbQ7-pRas38SDaylVf6qipiGC6OzWSoJonWsdeNOFaOPYvtPGIBVbx2kGwqjfk6w-5ilBiyS-CYdZZjuDCDV6-W25e0XgAnXWPHt2921LSl35uTs/s1600/leafskyhorizontal.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWA1qcPY-gEGtjtgzFy0rFG32zqoC4mc93u4_6Oy7uaQXbP5akSO4KScdPeCle4Mrxz0IWJY-KNAmdHVy1YfxkL3L1-VGefVDrdu_TG9D0sWLkk1DGQREdv1ifuQeGh0KAjXGNGSzvT5ub/s1600/leafsky.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsApayfm3BsSObk_iSkpZLkrP6XGPI5xT-lP1dyl2837CbqHWJFcGBEPgCJ5FXgXgltCscvN6vmaK9CMsxREtko3y5YgxTQZ0hRSMALzSHXHdL-8OZJWsgGpqpQYXt8GwtukpeG53_lkXV/s1600/leafskyflipped.jpg" imageanchor="1"><br /></a>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17582931842128068581noreply@blogger.com0