Have you ever noticed that bugs land on their back when they die?  I mean….  it seems that way to me… at least.  I can’t recall ever seeing a dead fly sitting squarely on its feet.  Even spiders, who have eight flippers, tend to turn over on their hairy backs.

This… keeps me up at night.  Well, it used to.  But I got to the bottom of this.  Finally.

There are a couple of theories by the bug experts to explain this.

1.  Most are poisoned.  Not by a money-hungry relative.  No.  Most succumb to bug spray, that we humans have squirted about to and fro.  The poison ravages the bugs’ nervous systems.  Spasms, convulsions, and such.  And… cough, cough, sputter, spew…. cough.  Spasm.  Dead and gone, keeled over…. onto their little spines.

2. A dead bug doesn’t weigh much.  Any little breeze will flip it over on its widest base of support… the back.

Now my theory.

Bugs are HUGE worriers.  So, they resort to daydreaming as an escape.   They spend hours, and hours… lying on their backs… gazing off into to space… dreaming of a world without Raid, and spider webs… and most certainly… without frogs.  Bug Utopia.  But… when they decided to recline and dream a bit… they forget that it is terribly difficult for them to right themselves.

So… they try and try… but no luck.  They eventually die of dehydration… which doesn’t take long for a little bug.

Help.  I’ve’ daydreamed and I can’t get up.

And that, my friends is how this sad, sad scene…. happens.

I overheard a couple of spiders talking… during this final phase.   They looked lovingly at eachother… and said…

“Can you believe we met on the web?”

There were also a couple of Fireflies near them.  They were speaking their last words too.  And  what did one firefly say to the other?

“I got to glow now!”

How sweet it is to live life with a song in your heart.

And so much better when you can share that song with someone else.

DYKW.

“You make everything……. Groovy.” – Chip Taylor (Recorded by the Troggs)

Life has a way of giving us little lessons, if we are open to them.

Sometimes they can be one right after another.  Each one, building on the lesson that preceded it.

Here is what I learned tonight.  It is profound.

There are submarines in the ocean.  They go along the ocean floor, and the only thing they do is scoop up fish poop.

….. I told you it was profound.  And I meant it.

Okay.  Here is how I came to learn this.

A few days ago, I went to the Darke County Fair.  I had the time of my life.  We were walking through the game area,  and I saw the Throw-A-Ping-Pong-Ball-Win-A-Goldfish Booth.

Childhood memories came rushing over me like flood waters pouring over the edge of the dam.  It thrust me back in time to my youth, and the days when I would leave a Carnival with four or five goldfish in tied-off plastic baggies.

And here…. this week….  my friends convinced me to play.  They could tell I wanted to.  They even sprung for the $2 per bucket of 20 ping pong balls.  And there I was, hurling the little white bouncing spheres toward the table of glistening fishbowls.

Oh but yikes.  I was down to 3 balls, and no fish.  And so…. I imagined the next ball landing right in the water.  I pictured it in my mind.

The next ball went in.

Lesson.

From there on I was like a little kid again.  I went up to total strangers, displayed my new-found fish-friend, and exclaimed, “Hey!  I just won a fish.”  We laughed and laughed.  Something so simple bringing so much joy.

Lesson.

Yet what are the chances of this cheap-o Fair Fish living more than one night?  Well, here it is the fourth night, and the fish lives.  His name is Simon.  He is a great swimmer.

I have watched him closely, in this bowl of his.  His bowl of life.  He maneuvers quite well.  And by seeing him move so gracefully, and effortlessly, in such a confined space… his little fins working in perfect synchronization at the every command of his little fish brain.

Lesson.

So tonight, as I am cleaning his bowl, and his water…. my favorite 5-year old in the world asks me… “Polly, why are you giving him new water?”

Because the old water was getting dirty, and he needs clean water to stay healthy.

“How did it get dirty?”

Well, Buddy.  Fish eat, and then they poop in their own water.

The look on my favorite little 5 year old face was priceless.  Like I had just told him that he had to eat nothing but broccoli for the rest of his life.

So he pondered that information… the Fish-Poop-Scandal information.  And he looked at  me in all earnestness, and told me about the submarines, that scoop up the fish poop, on the floors of oceans.

Lesson.

So like a string of dominoes, one right after the other, tapping each other with the clickety clack of knowledge…. it all came together.

That rare moment, when all of life seems to make perfect sense.

“Just Keep Swimming.” – Dory, Finding Nemo

Apparently, I am back.  And… I want some answers.

I heard a story tonight.  And now “things” need some clarification.

Who the heck was this “Peter, Peter” person?

Was “Pumpkin Eater” his occupation?  Or merely some sort of hobby?  Or was it more serious?  Did he have a Pumpkin Eating Disorder, or Addiction?

And what is all this nonsense about his wife?

Could not keep her?  What is that supposed to mean?

This could go a lot of ways. If he was addicted to pumpkin eating, perhaps she left him as a result of the habit?

Or was he some sort of chauvinistic, fanatical, horrible man, that tried to squelch the independence and persona of his wife?  Did he try to keep the very inner essence of her from shining through?  I just don’t know.

The last part may require a call to authorities.  Like CSI.

Put her in a pumpkin shell, and there he kept her very well?

It was either a really big pumpkin, or she was a tiny darn woman…. or… or…. or worse.

I shudder to think.  This was a disturbing story.  But I WILL get to the bottom of this.

“When I photograph, what I’m really doing is seeking answers to things.” – Wynn Bullock

Heck.  There is a lot I don’t know about cows.  There is a lot you don’t know about cows too, I bet.

It wasn’t so long ago that I used to eat a lot of beef.  Steaks, burgers, roast beef… you name it.  Yep, and now I don’t really have it so much.

As the Big Hay Bundler would have it, I met a few cows… and had lengthy and meaningful conversations.  At first, they were Holsteins.  Milk cows.  But the more we talked, the less I felt like grabbing a cheeseburger after.

Here is the main thing.  Cows are quite philosophical.  Humans think cows are dumb animals.  I have come find out the Bovine Species is quite the opposite.   They are not the least bit obtuse.

They are reflective, meditative, and introspective.

I was recently in the midst of quite a few.  One of the cows was named Varny.  She was a hoot.  She would just blurt out random phrases that cracked me up.  I laughed so hard that milk came out my nose.  And I wasn’t even drinking milk.  But, in the midst of all the fun, Varny’s pensive commentary sure did make me think.

“Dreaming should be used to distract people from stigmata.”

“Some people make watery cupcakes without the absurdity of it all.”

“If you see cruddy centipedes next to a waterfall, run the other way.”

“Gather loose daisies with your hands, but never pick them.   Especially on Thursdays.”

“Nazi waffle coupons belong in deep space.”

Do you see what I mean?  I left that cow shaking my head back and forth.  Uncontrollably, really.  The ideas that cow put in my head.  And as I walked away, she yelled… “Drinking Ovaltine at small tables will make your socks stiff.”  Who knew?

Not in all my days, I’ll tell you.  Not in all my days.
“The simplest questions are the most profound. Where were you born? Where is your home? Where are you going? What are you doing? Think about these once in a while and watch your answers change.” – Richard Bach

Today was one of those eerie days.  Not eerie in a bad way.  It was odd, and uncanny, in a delightful way.  A Cotton-Candy-Good-Day.  I would go so far as to say it was Goose-Got-Your-Gander-Good.

Snappy.  I met a fish named Simon.  Then, I ate a delicious fish.  But it wasn’t Simon.  I talked with a cat named Franky.  AND… I heard about this Phlebotomist who raises Alpacas.  Well… they might be Llamas.  But they are not the daily kind.

Creepy Clowns were standing around making Balloon Animals, and such.  Ill-tempered clowns.  It struck me funny.  I laughed out loud.  Not LOL.  No.  More like HA HA HA HA.

I am telling you.  Things were whacky.  But. More like red-letter day whacky.  Maybe even green-lettered.   They were that good.

Now, I don’t know what Buddy Hackett meant when he said this.  But somehow, I know exactly how he feels.

“I’ve had a good day when I don’t fall out of the cart” – Buddy Hackett

As it turns out…. I do not remember falling out of any cart.  So.  A good day indeed.

There are times when I look at all that is before me, and I am struck by the notion that I do not know anything.   At all.

It is then my assertion, that the unknown could be anywhere.
Yet at the same time…. in fact…. it is everywhere.

And I am simply amazed.

“Without mysteries, life would be very dull indeed. What would be left to strive for if everything were known?” – Charles de Lint

“The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.” – Oscar Wilde

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.” – Albert Einstein

Who Writes This…. UPDATED…

with root vegetables.

In the United States, we have a history filled with a LOT of law making.

Sometimes, these laws are created for reasons we may never quite know.  Yet.  They remain on the books.  All 50 states have a really big barrel filled with stupid rules.

Let us look at just one state out the many.  Say…. how about… Missouri?

A milk man may not run while on duty.

Minors can buy rolling paper and tobacco but not lighters.

Four women may not rent an apartment together.

Installation of bathtubs with four legs resembling animal paws is prohibited.

One may not honk another’s horn.

It is illegal to request for someone to “watch over” your parked boxcar.

Apparently…. that is not the only dumb thing in Missouri.  Some of their lawmakers are still saying some pretty idiotic things.

Stupidity.  It is akin to ….  Brainlessness.   Dumb and Dumber.

As of late, Gilford simply felt like he was always between a rock and a hard place.

Someone said to him one day… .. “Well.  Life is just hard.”
And Gilford replied, “Compared to what?”

Oh.  The trouble with all of it.

Damned if he did.  Damned if he didn’t.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.

Always on the horns of a dilemma.

So he pulled up a stretch of grass, and imagined the ocean…. and somehow, this made him feel better.

“Life is like art. You have to work hard to keep it simple and still have meaning.” – Charles deLint