theology&geometry

This little guy posed for me for several minutes. I was grateful for his patience as I was hardly a picture of grace while I stumbled around, trying to hold the (somewhat heavy) camera still while trying to avoid stepping into the mud puddle half a foot in front of me.

Thirty-seven that I can see. There are more I can just feel.

I wear Deep Woods Off! like a fine perfume but I get nibbled up just the same.

Grrrr.

If I could pick a lesser superpower to have, it would be the ability to identify flowers.

[Project 365]

… has a lot to do with the fact that most houses come with attached plots of land on which you can pretend to be a conductor coaxing the most entrancing floral notes out of the earth:

My mom grows flowers so gorgeous that I don’t even need Photoshop. Truly. If I got even a fraction of her and my grandmother’s green thumbs, I will cultivate a jungle before all is said and done.

There is something very Frankensteinian about the color of these blooms that I like very much.

[Project 365]

Just passing through.

[Project 365]

If you’ve been with me for more than a year, you might recognize that title from a previous post or two. So if I get another sunburn, I am going to have to come up with another way to talk about it. Yawn!

This particular sunburn’s not so bad, all things considered. Sure, my ears have peeled and my part’s flaking like your popular prom date, but I haven’t had to coax myself into a cold shower where the drops of rain feel like missiles sent by Satan himself to obliterate your nerve endings. I attribute this small comfort to the fact that I coated myself in waterproof SPF 70 lotion every day at Bonnaroo. Otherwise, I would probably have been parked in a bathtub of ice water for the past few days.

Completely unrelatedly, are there any attractive male youths out there with skin-peeling fetishes? Apply within.

[Project 365]

Lately I’ve been paying some attention to my long-neglected balcony. I really don’t spend enough time out there, and it’s probably because it’s filthy most of the time. (And also because a huge spider lives in one of the brick columns and I’m convinced he’s going to pounce on my face and suck my brain out through my eye sockets if I hang out there too much.) I love all my smoker friends, but they make a fucking mess with their butts and their boxes and their plastic wrappers strewn everywhere. I swept up and threw away months and months of accumulated detritus, emptied the ashes out all my flowerpots, and set to knocking down the pest nests that were under construction. (Except for the dirt dobbers’ nests; once when I was a kind, I saw my dad knock down a dirt dobber’s nest in the garage and the resulting rain of dead spiders from within helped solidify my cripplingly stupid arachnophobia. So, uh, I am going to have to formulate a plan before I knock down those damn things on my tiny balcony where the only place to run screaming is over the ledge and onto the unforgiving bricks many many feet below.)

I felt a little bad when I aimed my can of floral-scented Raid at the wasp working diligently on this nest, and I felt even worse as I watched his body writhe as he died from my blast of poison. But here’s the thing: I also feel really bad when I get stung by flying demon-faced insects. And relocating a wasp’s nest isn’t exactly … prudent. So, well, what can you do? Sorry, little wasp family that will never be. Let’s just consider this payback for that time one of your distant cousins stung me on my pinky toe through my jellies when I was a little kid. That shit hurt, dude.

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I’ll be honest — it felt a little inappropriate getting all up in that bee’s very intimate business, but it’s just nature, baby.

[Project 365]