natural woman

After a day of working in the Houston heat, who's calling who a stinkbug?
It's not that I don't think bugs are very cool. They are. We saw a half-dozen fascinating bugs and spiders during today's clear cutting. Here is a picture of a caterpillar perfectly disguised as a stick and below it a photo of a tough-looking stinkbug. (These are not our photos—our camera sucks on close-ups—but they are exactly what we saw in the backyard.) Now, as I said, bugs are cool. Just as long as they're not crawling up my bare arm. Then, I don't much care for the little motherfuckers.

I am happy to announce that the Sawzall-aided destruction of the weed trees in our backyard is complete. I actually had to get up on the roof for one set of precariously-situated limbs. Nothing like standing that high off the ground (how high, you ask? two broken legs in a fall high. I'd estimate) holding a hefty machine that heats up and vibrates steadily while lopping off limbs that could stun an ox if properly aimed. Still it was exhilirating to finish with danger. I am woman, hear me saw.

Came inside to cool down and shower before surveying what our next round of carnage would entail. I wear comfortable but not too loose-fitting clothing while playing lumberjack and all I want to know is how that much sawdust, dirt, etc. finds its way into crack and cleavage? [This is rhetorical, so you assholes out there don't need to put a lot of effort into providing me with cute answers.] I could start an indoor garden. If I were so inclined. Which I'm not.