Lucy Tartan's recently republished Giant Spider Pictorial reminded me of the fine feathered fly I met last summer. To those who doubt reports of steroid-abuse in the fly community, I say: that is my finger; I was there; there is no photoshoddery going on here; that fly really is as big as my distal phalanx.*
It is for reasons such as these - invertebrates on androgens - that I can truly say I am glad that I signed up for karate classes. I may be congenitally uncoordinated, unfit and inflexible, I may lack martial spirit and whatever it is that enables a person to ensure that the two ends of her belt are of equal length, but by golly, the next time a fly like this swings my way, I'm going to have the best bowing technique in town.
Meanwhile, it appears that the internet and I have been reunited, and I promised photeaux of mine house. I reiterate that promise. There will be photos of mine house (awright, my two rooms), I promise.
* I have this term on the good authority of Wikipedia, s.v. finger.