Well, I guess that’s it for the tomatoes, then.
They’ve been infested with tobacco hornworms. I didn’t notice this in the afternoon, but my husband pointed it out when he got home from work. There are quite a few of these chomping away. A good third of the tomato plants have been denuded. Fortunately, it was the end of the season anyway. And they’ll become a pretty moth, a Carolina Sphinx.
Even though the tomatoes are goners, the circle of life is in full swing in our little garden. See the white things on the caterpillars below?
Apparently the
cotesia wasp, which is tiny and doesn’t sting people, lays its eggs inside the tobacco hornworm. Then the larvae burrow through the skin and spin cocoons. Eventually they’ll consume the host. It’s a heck of a way to solve our caterpillar problem, but I suppose it’s healthier than pesticides. Well, healthier for
us, anyway.
I went to bed last night later than I should have, which is par for the course. As I closed my eyes, I heard a little “skritch skritch” sound coming from a corner of our bedroom. I’m pretty sure it was a mouse. I got up, baited a “live catch” trap and set it. And then I couldn’t sleep, because I just knew that I’d hear the trap close, and then I’d either have to get up and get dressed and go out and set it free near the woods or I’d have to lie there in the dark listening to it scratch or ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz………..
When I woke up this morning, there was no mouse in the trap. That corner of the room holds our dirty clothes hamper, and a few items had missed the basketball-like toss from across the room. It also had a few balls of wool roving (in plastic packaging) so if a mouse were going to pick a corner of our room, that would be the best candidate. I cleaned up a bit, but saw no signs of rodent activity. Was I just dreaming the whole thing? I’ve put the trap a little closer to the corner, so I suppose we’ll see. I had dreams last night that the trap had attracted ants, so now I’ve got vermin on the brain.
I’m a good liberal, but the one place I have a zero tolerance immigration policy is in regard to pests entering my house. My orange striped border guard cat is a little more lackadaisical. I still remember the time some years ago when a mouse tore apart my white bathrobe in the closet to make a little nest in our linen closet. If this mouse gets into my beloved new dress, I may have to fire the cat. From a cannon.
I just want a vermin-free house, is that so wrong?
I want to share this video on Facebook so badly, but I have so many nieces and nephews and aunts and uncles…
Well, you pervy nerds will like it. So very NSFW with its bad language.
Video behind cut.
Em is playing flute in the band this coming year. Today, we rented an instrument.
The kind gentleman at Howren Music was showing us used flutes and we talked about how far we could get the price down on them. Then he asked what school we were going to. I told him, and he said, “Ah.” The used flute disappeared and a new one came out of its factory packaging. Apparently there are some programs which require a certain level of instrument. He said, “If I send her over there with one of those other flutes, I’ll hear about it later.” So we wound up with a new flute and the book and DVD set which they’ll be using at her new school. Fortunately, it’s not that much more expensive.
This whole experience of moving from a Title I school to a somewhat more upscale school has been very interesting.
By now you’ve all heard about Steven Slater, the Jetblue flight attendant who quit his job in spectacular style.
One of my Facebook buddies, Browncoat Brandon Green, pointed out that this guy needed his own Hero of Canton style ballad and wrote the chorus.
Well, I couldn’t resist that. So here, with some rather NSFW language, is…
Slater…. the man they call Slater…
We just got back from a vacation at the beach. I’d promise to blog about it, but we all know how woefully behind I am on all the various things I need to blog about, so… maybe I will, maybe I won’t.
At any rate! I am posting because when we picked up our phone to make a call, there was no dial tone. Furthermore, calls made to our number are apparently going to some guy with a strong Indian accent. He lives in our home town but has a telephone number which is nowhere near our own. Thankfully, we’re not exactly Grand Central Station receiving calls, and he is being very gracious and accepting this weird turn of events with good humor.
AT&T says they should have it fixed by this coming Thursday, six days from now.
Long story short: we have no home phone. If you need me, call my cell. If you don’t have my cell number, let me know. And if you get Nice Indian Guy, tell him I said hi.
I may have already pointed this out, but there are some really excellent color pictures from the 1930s and 40s in the Library of Congress’s Flickr photostream. “Photographers working for the United States Farm Security Administration (FSA) and later the Office of War Information (OWI) created the images between 1939 and 1944.” Neat look at an era that we usually only see in black and white.
P.S. – the same lady, but with a smile.
