Butterfly Wings

A butterfly landed on my chest this morning, after I'd dropped off the boys. Butterflies love me! It's the second time one's done it in a week. The first time, it was at the playground -- one of B1's friends said "Mister, there's a butterfly on you!" and he caught it, and (fortunately) let it go. I could see B1 trying to come up with some logical explanation for why they like me!

I should keep a tally of butterfly landings. It's nearly always Orange Lacewings, like the one above. They like me. Maybe because I'm sweet? Bahah! Or salty? (since I sweat pretty readily) Not sure. I used to blame it on shirts I wore with flowers on'em, or colors, but today's shirt is a white golf shirt with lateral navy blue stripes on it. I wanted to snap a shot of the butterfly before it fled, but wasn't quick enough.

Posty McPostington

I'm aiding and abetting the Net's war on attention spans by writing short little posts instead of my usual lengthy ones. I came up with a good ending to the second screenplay I'm working on (I shelved the first one because I don't think it was quite scary enough for the festival I'm sending this to), and I started another one last weekend (hence the high word count, trying to get it done in time -- it's due by next Friday). Anyway, I was on the bus, jotting notes, trying to think of an ending, and then it just clicked for me. I don't even know what inspired it, but I was really pleased with it. It's a far stronger piece than my original effort (I like the original, but it's more of a SF thriller than a horror story, whereas this new one is more psychological horror, and I think it'll work better -- although I'm sure I won't win the festival, because I know my luck).

Bizarrely, just yesterday, I saw the surname of one of the characters on the side of a charter bus! I'd only come up with the surname a couple of days before, and I was just sitting on the bus, daydreaming, and I saw the name roll by the bus windows (with a wave motif, which was even more perfect), and I was momentarily astounded by that. Like the Cosmos having a bit of fun with me.

Snakes Alive!

I saw a nice, healthy garter snake in my work neighborhood the other day. I think that was the first time I've ever seen a snake in the city (I'm sure they were probably here, but I've just never seen one before). It was great -- easily two feet long, maybe two (of my) fingers thick, slithering across the sidewalk and into a garden. I loved seeing that. Some Latinas were approaching with a stroller, and I announced the snake, like "Wow, a garter snake!" because I didn't want them to run over it with their stroller (they didn't see it until I mentioned it). It was way cool. I just loved how healthy it was. The street that it was on is perfect for it, because it has gardens all around it, not too much traffic, and there's a wild area on the side of the Metra tracks, too, that provides a kind of mini-sanctuary for it. Go, snake!

Happy 40th!

Man, did you notice that I have stubbed my toes 40 times since March 10? Christ. I am a chronic toe-stubber. In honor of the 40th (which happened just a few moments ago), I'll mention it briefly -- I was walking from the computer room into the living room, and I completely nailed my left foot, third toe, against B2's little bike with training wheels (while I'd sidestepped the bike itself, the black training wheels evaded scrutiny). Total punt. Lordy! I really need titanium house slippers, or at least steel-toed ones. Simple math...

Big Feet + Small Apartment = Stubbed Toes.