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.
6 comments:
Did you eat the fly? Oh, pardon me, I do not know why I would inquire about eating a fly. I don't know why you would eat a fly.
It was tempting, Dale, believe you me, but in the end my vegetarianism prevailed.
That fly's a bit of crumpet if ever I've seen one.
Every morning I produce silk out of my spinnerets and weave the most magnificent web in my doorway that you've ever seen in the hope that I'll catch a nice juicy insect like that, but no luck so far.
Though I have managed to snare a few tasty human morsels.
"I hold your hand in mine, dear". Etc.
your finger is tiny! it's the same size as a fly!!
No, my finger is huge! And the fly was huge too. Really super entomology-defyingly enormous.
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