First, just an observation that I must credit to my massage therapist. What does it mean when in this advanced technological age of organ transplants, wireless computing and kitty cloning, the entire world is watching a CHIMNEY for the color of the SMOKE to send a message about the new Pope??????? I mean, how retarded is it that people are clicking on CNN.com to see if the INTERNET has news of the smoke puff? Just curious.
Now, onto worms. Ahhh, spring. Season of the Texas green mushy silkworm (for lack of a more technical term). On Saturday, I accompanied Tam (who is about to POP I might add) and little Eli to Dripping Springs for some festival where J.M. was playing a set w/his garage band. It was an hour gig, and we didn't hang around much longer than that because, well, Tam is about to POP. On the way back, we caravanned (sp?) with JM, stopping at the infamous Nutty Brown Cafe for a leisurely lunch. The weather was perfect. It was not cold, not hot, but perfectly breezy and cool. We sat out back, under beautiful canopied trees, next to a safe, fenced play area for kids -- idyllic, I tell you.
Well as soon as Tam and I sat down at our table, we realized it was Covered. With. Worms. The gross, ultra-green, fragile kind that spurt brownish fluid if you even brush up against them -- Tam calls it "blood" but that just grosses me out TOO much so I prefer to call it brownish fluid. Anyway. They were everywhere. On the table. On the salt shaker. On the napkin. On the chairs. Under the table. Over the table, dangling on threads. I'm not a worm-a-phobe or anything, but EWWWWWW. While JM and Eli frolicked in the play area, Tam and I set about clearing our area of wormage. It was an arduous task, and required much maintenance. I have to say my appetite was pretty shot after that. I got a chicken salad sandwich, but couldn't help but wonder about the green specks in the mixture. I checked my tea before taking a sip. We had to stop and flick worms off our feet every now and then. I ate about half my sandwich and just couldn't deal anymore. But it was still a gorgeous day and we had a great time at WormFest 2005, Nutty Brown Cafe. After Tamara dropped me off at home I napped for a few hours and then did house stuff. The weekend was relaxing and it was good to be outdoors, despite our little wiggly friends.
Yesterday, I lounged around until my 3:30 massage. I was standing on my Guy's porch, waiting for him to answer the door, and I saw this big grey screw sticking out from his doorframe at a weird angle. Now Guy is blind, so this troubled me -- how would he know not to rip his arm open on that thing? I gazed at it for a few seconds, then reached over to feel it and ---------- IT WAS A WORM, PEOPLE. I uttered something along the lines of "Sweet Baby Jesus" just as he opened the door, and he asked me if I was on the phone.
Worms 'r' us. Like, totally.