AND THEY WANT IN! WHY?

And they want in!  Why?

There at the window lightly springing off the glass are bugs, especially the cranefly.
You've all seen them, those spindly legged transparent insects that look like large mosquitoes.  Then there's the moths forever and a day bouncing around, tacking here and there, trying to sidle their way inside.  And, of course, you have the ever hardy June bug.  Those things not only are untrackable, they have a specific pzzzzit sound, right?

Makes you want to squeal like a little girl, cross your arms over you head, and duck and tremble!

Pondering these bugs each doing their own little useless dance to get into my house I'm wondering, "Why?"

Don't they know I'll squish 'em!

Don't they realize there's nothing in here for them.  The light is man-made florescent.  The smells are not food related at all when you notice the fizzled candle wicks, the sweet pea spray droplets, and the spittle crumbs from the toddler's visit.

Sometimes I think their antics are just a "spectacle in racing."  Watching them is quite the spectacle.  Long legs fly behind the cranefly as he bounces from the corner to the center thinking if he bounces just a little harder like a battering ram he can get in, "Head for the light!"

Fluttering and flittering the moth leaves a dusty gray trail, mindlessly, haphazardly making entrance through crevices unseen.  "I will survive!"

Crazy madcap June bug pzzzziting his way here and there all around the edges ricocheting from one point to another, like some wild thing, "Must.  Get.  In."

Why?  The why of it all!  There's a whole big world out there full of their mates, plenty of fern and foliage, shelter for the weakest, anything a bug could want, and yet, like humans thinking the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, they want in.  They persevere until they die trying.

Someone should tell them that inside it's just a Holodeck of a bugs life.

Not capable of speaking bug, I can help.
The angel on my right shoulder says, "Just turn out the lights."
The devil on my left shoulder is snickering a whisper, "Kill them dead."

Going towards a light of my own in the garden closet, I'm feeling devilish.
"RAID!"

POPPING IN GRANNY

Granny popped in.  She popped in with a plan and supplies in hand!
She's only popped in about twice in our lives.  Well, maybe 3 times; but only twice bringing her upbringing with her.

Like me, she was the mother of all boys.
Like me, she was raised on a farm.

The one time she didn't bring her upbringing she brought her suitcase and enough food for 2 days for the whole family!

There was sliced ham, thick slices of Colby cheese, tubs of potato salad, tubs of macaroni salad, and bacon and eggs for breakfast just to name some of the fullness of those paper grocery bags we helped haul into the house.

We ate well.  She always ate well.  And this time we were all eating well together.

You must know my mother-in-law was in her 80's, single, and had been feeling sorry for the neighbor man and feeding him breakfast.  Evidently, in his dotage, he'd become a pest knocking at her door at any hour wanting her company and a cup of coffee.  She'd come to our house to get away from him for a few days.  She specifically chose where she'd sleep.  Right there on the couch facing the front door!  One night was enough, though.  The comings and goings and noises of this house were not her cup of tea.  She'd been self-sufficient since she was 16 moving up here from Kentucky to work in a grocery store by day, and baby sit the owners' kids by night.  Living alone was okay with her.

One of those times Granny popped in was to help us snap green beans.  We couldn't believe what we were seeing.  (You gotta know, she doesn't really pop; she totters with a cane, and does that old folk deliberate shuffle.  It's okay, she keeps her balance just fine.)
This was on a Sunday afternoon, when she came carrying a box of zippered baggies, and plans made just for us.  She began telling the 6 of us what to do as if we'd never ever snapped fresh garden green beans before in our lives!

We got a lot done sitting there in a circle in the sunshine and just laughing about silly anecdotes and making sure snipped tips didn't get mixed in with bite-size pieces of bean.  Admittedly, it was fun: a memory maker.

Another time Granny popped in was to help us kill chickens.  Yep.  You read that right.
Granny had brought her upbringing with her by telling, and showing us how to preserve poultry meat in a freezer.  We'd raised the chickens since Easter and probably let them get a little long in the tooth, uh, beak; the meat was tough and needed pressure cooked to be edible.  Just like Sally, the pig.  Butchering?  Never again!

She showed us how to pluck pin feathers after the dead chickens were dunked in a outside vat full of boiling water.  What a woman!  

Not me.  "Set me free,"  like the cry of the 60's.

I went inside to the kitchen convinced a fresh kill wasn't part of Helen Reddy's song, "I can do anything, I am woman!"

Wonder when, where, and what we'll be doing the next time John's mother, Granny to us, pops in.

FOR THE LOVE OF BOYS, "SHERLOCK HOMES I'M NOT!"

For the love of boys.  What does a mother do... let me rephrase that because I've not discussed this with other mothers... what does this mother do for the love of her boys.
I'm many things,

but Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

Songs and comedians say, "I'm chief cook and bottle washer, Girl Friday, floor mopper, dance watcher, nurse maid, and show stopper."  Yes.

But Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

When the boy comes up missing in the wee hours of the night, you know by intuition and that "still small voice" inside you, that he's okay, yet your mind is off and running -- running the newest horror movie from Netflix of all the kinds of atrocities that could've befallen him.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you put on your bra!  Using your non-night vision prowess you scan side ditches for his color of car, and the road for skid marks, and the weeds/trees for tire tracks.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you've skipped coffee!  Let me say that again, only louder with shock and awe, "For the love of heaven I've skipped my coffee!"  Using your non-enhanced memory you try to conjure names and faces and phone numbers of his friends and co-workers.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you resist speed dialing 911!  Did you hear that, I did NOT call the cops!  But you do call the local hospital to see if someone has been admitted with this moms matching DNA.

For the love of boys at 3 a.m. you restrain from climbing to the tiptop of the roof of the house screaming, "Have you seen..." through a mega bullhorn!  Of course you want the whole world to know!  That's pure primitive!

We didn't find him, he came home.
Like I said,
Sherlock Holmes I'm not!

********

For the love of boys we mothers do things that are typical, outlandish, selfless, and a little weird.

We lose nights sleep, cook all manner of things, blockade fights, and sew on Scout patches.

We let them use our good scissors, dig a hole to China, and play Play-Doh though it smooshes into parquet floor cracks.

We spend our last dollar on their whim, read Parents magazines & Rosemond books for childrearing tips, and go to events for which we wish we could stay home like Dear Hubby!

We play pretend picnic indoor wintertime.  We bake cakes in various shapes.  We let them during a water fight drown us in our coiffed hair and Sunday clothes.  We skip the meat so they can have it.  Our face and clothes become the place to stick smiley face stickers given for jobs well done.

To our embarrassment, claiming it's good to develop nurturing, we let them play dolls for a minute.  Then we teach them to hunt tomato worms, decorate their foreheads with fireflies lights and handle snakes.

We play secret word, "I love you until pigs fly", and flyswatter "get to bed."

We let them teach us computer tricks and cell phone usage.
Then to impress them back, we climb trees "Boy, did that hurt!"
All for the love of boys.

Oh, by the way, due to a buttocks charlie horse that was the last time to climb a tree, EVER -- at age 50!