From an MSNBC article about flooding in DC and Maryland:
WILKES-BARRE, Pa. - Floodwaters rose in town after town along the upper Delaware River on Thursday, threatening thousands of homes and businesses along the border between New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
Do these people not know they are living next to a river? Who told them to build there? And a levee,
please! I mean come on, it's not like someone
forced these people to live next to a raging body of water in a state well known to have rain. And to make things worse, they're right up next to the
Atlantic Ocean! Get real, that's nothing but a huge reservoir of water just
waiting to flood them out.
Why should we, the rest of the nation smart enough not to build next to rivers and oceans in a rain-plagued state, have to pony up any money or caring for these idiots? I say, let them drown, it's their own damn fault!
This message brought to you by the New Orleans Chapter of Irony, Inc.
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I'm leaving in a few minutes to take our Shiloh Shepherd, Flash, to the vet for surgery. He has a bone spur in his elbow that's making it very painful to walk -- he gimps around the place like a drunken pirate. They can do it via laparoscopy, so hopefully the recovery time won't be too bad.
In much worse news, our good friend Lori, who Annie has known since high school, is having to go in this morning for more tests on a lump in her breast that came back as cancerous after a biopsy.
Sickness and pain are as much a part of life as beauty and joy, but that doesn't make it any eaier to cope with or understand. Lori's a very tough customer, one of the nicest people I know. We all hope that maybe the test was mistaken somehow, or that the tumor (if that's what it is) turns out to be benign, but breast cancer is a very, very scary phrase. We're all hoping and confident that it'll work out all right after it's all said and done, but if you have a spare moment in your day, please think positive, encouraging thoughts about her.
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My nephew Nick is living in Taiwan, teaching English and DJing at clubs. He's got quite the life. He just sent an album of photos, and one of them in particular caught my eye. I like it because I think Nick represents that part of all of us that wants to party and give the finger to convention.
You go, Nick! You can click here to see his entire album. I've never even been out of the country, so it's all like a magical fairyland to me.
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I was digging through some old files the other day, and came across this essay from January of 1987, almost 20 years ago. I was 16 at the time, in high school, and we had to write a "Personality Sketch" for our Sociology class.
Outwardly, I am an extrovert, always trying to be part of the group, cracking jokes, always trying I am contributing somehow to the group experience. Sarcasm is a trademark of my humor, but often it goes too far, and someone gets hurt. In my approach to life I am basically laid back. I try not to let things bother me too much. But I have an awful temper, and I am often extremely stubborn. I can be extremely obstinant over stupid things.
...
Even though my dealings are mostly on an intrustive, extroverted level, I really am an introvert at heart. At times I feel truly lonely, and my (outward) personality is, to a large extent, an attempt to hide this insecurity. However, I really do like people, and I try to live each day as if it were the last.
Man, 20 years and not much has changed. I can't tell if that's really depressing, or oddly comforting.
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"That's the biggest damn dog I ever saw ..."
We have a new resident here at Shiloh Falls -- Mia the Briard. Annie saw her at the local shelter and fell in love at once. Technically we're fostering her, but I think we all know how
that's gonna end. She's only been here two days but she already is fitting right in, barking at me when I come in the bedroom (where clearly no husband has a need to be), chasing the horses and donkeys along the fenceline, and filling her fur up with burrs.
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As I was driving to work the other day, looming up out of the mist in the field at the end of our neighborhood road were these two fellows, a mother and her calf.
Yes, those are buffaloes.
As you know, our home is here and, in fact, the skies have not been cloudy all day for quite some time. We also have deer at our property.
Now all we need are some antelope and we'll be set, except for never hearing a discouragin' word ... Maybe ear plugs?
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Hi, my name is Jeff and I have a problem: I like to watch "Columbo".
"Columbo" was a series in the 1970's about a rumpled LA detective played by Peter Falk. Why I've become addicted to it I have no idea, but like much in my life, I blame Dell Computers.
When I worked for Dell upon first moving to Austin, they had me on a horrendous shift, on the clock from 4 in the afternoon to 3 in the morning.
On Tuesdays through Fridays.
That meant that not only was I working when all other people my age were partying, but I only had one weekend night in common with the rest of humanity. As a result, I didn't socialize much and found myself parked in front of the television in the middle of the day most days.
That's when it happened.
A&E started showing reruns of Columbo every day, and I got totally sucked in. I went so far as to learn how to program my VCR so I could tape every show. I still have most of those tapes, meticulously labeled, and the old checklist of episodes I used to keep track of what I'd already seen.
Pathetic, I know, but then so was my life at that point.
Now I own the first four seasons on DVD and the next one should be coming any day now. I also TiVo some episodes from later seasons, and watched one earlier today. One of the things I like about it is spotting famous actors before they were famous. In this particular one ("How To Dial A Murder"), a very young Kim Cattrall and Ed Bagley, Jr. showed up.
One of the other fascinating things to see (besides the episodes themselves, which are all very good) is how technology has changed since these were filmed. In one early episode the criminal is traveling by plane, and it was completely unlike today's Southwest Airlines-inspired cattle-car experience. There was a lounge on the plane with a piano, stewardesses with trays of drinks, people smoking and laughing it up ... it was like a Vegas hotel with wings.
Then of course was the episode featuring a newfangled device that the murderer used to stage his alibi -- a phone voice recording machine! Columbo had never even seen one, and he had to have its purpose explained to him.
Only the richest of the rich had car phones. There were no desktop computers, and in one adventure featuring none other than Martin Sheen ("Lovely But Lethal") you got a scene with the ultra-advanced room-sized corporate computer complete with tape reels and a teletype machine for output.
What strikes me about these technological innovations is how they're used -- as pieces in a murder plot. The devices seem so dated now, so archaic, but the motivations of the people behind them are as timeless as humanity itself. Greed, lust, revenge, hatred, rage, all the old sins with new enablers, unchanging backdrops against which our morality plays and technological advances perform.
I guess "Columbo" is just one more piece of the Geek puzzle out here in the country. I sometimes feel like technology is passing me by as well, outpacing me like it has these old episodes, but at the same time I'm comforted by that thought that some things are eternal. Murder, yes, but also justice, and people like Columbo who use nothing more complicated than the power of their minds to make sense of a world that sometimes seems mad.
Oh, and just one more thing -- if you get the chance, tune in to one of those old shows. I think you'll like them, too.
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I want to apologize for the scant posting of late. I recently got two freelance gigs that are both rush jobs due the last week of June, and I have been working on those pretty much every free moment. Plus Blogger's been down for a couple of days and wreaking havoc across the blogosphere, so that hasn't helped. Also, um, let's see ... the moon was in my eyes and, er, I had vicious bone cramps and ... well. Clearly, I just suck, I am sorry.
So I figured I'd catch up here with some quick updates.
- One of the two freelance gigs is with a major comic-book icon, and I am so thrilled I can barely contain myself. I can't say anything officially until it's launched, unfortunately, but it's pretty cool.
- The fledglings in our porch nest have taken flight! They tumbled out of their nest and into the air. At last report the parents still have their dive-bombs ready to fly, but hope not to have to unleash them for some time. Even Annie's annoyed by now.
- It hit 100 degrees here yesterday and there's no end in sight. Wonderful. My "You don't have to shovel heat off your car in the morning" excuse for not moving to the Great White North is looking lamer every day.
- The great "Is that donkey pregnant or not?" debate rages on, but no donkey babies yet. We've got our fingers crossed.
- We have a new niece! Annie's brother Billy had a beautiful baby girl a few weeks ago and we trucked into Austin for a viewing.
- My birthday was on June 1, and in addition the the great support of my immediate family (thanks y'all!) I was particularly touched by contacts from my Aunt Bev and Uncle Jim in New York, Aunt Claudia and Uncle Howard in Lake Charles (Louisiana), and my nephew Jason. It was as sweet as it was unexpected to hear from them, it really made my week.
I'll try to post something more substantive this week when my eyes uncross from staring too long at the computer monitor working on the projects.
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There's a great scene in the classic musical "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" that my brother-in-law John spotted. The female lead is coming up over a hill with her beau, singing merrily along, while birds whiz past the couple at high velocity. You have to watch closely to see it, but one of the birds blazes past them and WHAM! Smacks dead into the scenery backdrop behind them, painted to look like the open sky, and drops stunned to the ground.
There's nothing like a good bird stunning to make a ghastly chick-flick musical bearable. I think John wore out the "Rewind" button on his remote going back over that sucker again and again and again.
I think about that every day when I look out our living room windows. The four little baby swallows in the nest under our porch are constantly crying in pitiful, screechy little voices that remind me of the women in that movie, desperately singing their little hearts out hoping for their deepest desire -- a husband. If you step outside the door the parents come flying in from out of nowhere to buzz your head and try to drive you back inside, which conjures up the same feeling I get watching "Seven Brides" -- the urge to flee at a high rate of speed, and possibly find some sort of stick with which to gouge out my own eardrums to stop the torture.
I need to go buy me one of those fake backdrops, maybe I'll get lucky and the swallows will stun themselves silly flying into it and I can finally enjoy my back porch again.
NOTE: No actual birds were harmed in the writing of this post. Or in the filming of the movie, they were fake birds. I should be so lucky, but our swallows are all too real. Sigh.
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I went to my nephew Chris' high school graduation last week in Houston. I find milestone ceremonies like this very interesting, revealing what we as a society value. Weddings, funerals, medal ceremonies in the military, political swearing-in inaugurations, graduations, all are considered "Events" in our culture, bringing families back together from across the map and whole communities out in support. Every aspect is steeped in tradition and meaning, from the color of the bride's dress to the way the flag is folded at the end of a medal presentation.
At the graduation, I tried to take a step back, attempting to look at the whole thing with fresh eyes. The graduates marched in, all looking virtually identical in their caps and gowns -- no distinctive footwear or decorations allowed -- and then were seated alphabetically, teachers at the end of each row. Eventually their names were called in the same cadence, a measured procession across the stage like figures in old-fashioned clocks, mechanically marching across in their precise patterns. "Don't do anything to embarrass yourself or us," they were told before they could take the walk.
A handshake, a pause while the empty diploma case is handed off for the camera flash, then off-stage quickly, make room for the next berobed teenager, and back to their precise, alphabetical seats while the machine grinds on.
And finally, when the ceremony is over, what is the graduates' first act as "free agents"? They rip off their uniform hats and fling them in the air, as if finally freeing themselves from straitjackets.
So what, then, is it that we're showing we value in this ceremony? It seems to me that really what we were celebrating was uniformity. Conformity. Sameness. An abnegation of individuality.
Those aren't necessarily BAD things, but I found it sad. The speeches all talk about how these young people stand at the beginning of a great journey, their first chance to set their own course and plot their own destiny. And yet we commemorate it by grasping at our last chance to shove them into a pre-set mold, wiping away any marker of individuality, greedily taking advantage of our last chance to show them what it means to be part of the machine.
It reminds me that our schools were essentially founded to groom good factory workers. We need people who can start and stop what they are doing on a schedule, at the ring of a bell or the blowing of a whistle. Factories need workers who can sit in one place for long periods of time and do the same thing over and over. Anything that would disrupt the uniform action of the assembly line is to be ruthlessly suppressed.
It works, and works well -- at producing factory workers. But how do we prepare the people who will one day own those factories? How do we communicate the values we seek in our leaders, the people who will create new industries and new factories no one thought of before? Where do we fit those people who refuse to conform, to look like everyone else, to walk the line and not question?
Looking out at row after row of black-robed students, I knew that there were some there that would break out of their constraints and become confident, brave, insightful leaders. America has been better than any country in history at doing so, after all, and this generation will be no exception.
I just wish we could find a way to let them know that we appreciate that spirit of enterprise, that sense of individual achievement, that uniquely free-wheeling American can-do sensibility, in their graduation ceremonys.
After all, milestones like this reveal what we value as a society; we should pay more attention to exactly what they tell us.
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We went for an early evening walk today, and along the fence bordering our goat-herding neighbors we heard the unmistakable call of a hawk. Repeatedly. Usually you hear just one of the distinctive sounds, but this time we heard it over and over again as we walked, eyes scanning the skies for the source.
Annie spotted it first, perched high in a dead oak tree on the neighbor's property. It was silhouetted beautifully against the azure sky, the sharp angles of the barren limbs a marked contrast to his sleek and powerfully alive body. As we walked closer we saw another, much smaller, form darting in and out of the hawk's. A tiny swallow was dashing to and fro, apparently causing the hawk's continuous calling.
Suddenly the larger bird took off, the swallow constantly dive-bombing him. The hawk must have outweighed that little fellow by ten times, but his tiny oppressor was completely oblivious. Wings spread majestically, the hawk beat as dignified a retreat as he was capable of, soon reaching the safety of another tree on our side of the fence.
The swally did a few final dives to make sure the hawk stayed gone, and high-tailed it back to the tree. We couldn't see a nest there, but I'm sure there was one, filled with tiny, fragile babies. We've got a clutch in the corner of our porch, little down-colored chicks calling piteously for their parents throughout the day.
The hawk might've spotted what he thought was an easy meal, and settled in for dinner, but he reckoned without the powerful protective urge of a parent defending its young. Size doesn't matter in a fight like that, it's primal urge versus primal urge.
And this time, the good guy won.
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When my niece Anna and her friend Felicia were here last month, we had a night or two of really cool storms blow through, the kind with lightning crawling under the bellies of the clouds and incredible light displays. One of the neatest things we saw was just before one of the early evening storms, when a spectacular double rainbow filled the sky behind the house. They spanned the entire horizon, two full half-circles of glorious color, one bright and vivid, the other faded and just above the first.
We couldn't get a full-horizon shot, it was just too huge -- we'd have had to retreat practically to Austin to get a wide enough look at it -- but here's a portion. It was even more beautiful in person, with a heavy mist filling the air, mottled gray-white clouds just overhead, and the bright colors of the rainbow hanging impossibly doubled from right to left, filling your entire field of vision.
Many thanks to Anna and Felicia for taking the photos and for sending them to us on CD!
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I'll put this below the fold for those of you who don't want to read about super-hero drawings (I'm kind that way). But I recently re-imagined an old character that people have told me they liked in the past, kind of like my own "Batman" remake. Of course I don't get paid bajillions of dollars to do so, unlike Hollywood moguls, but I bravely did it anyway.
The character on top to the right is "Earth", which I drew way back in 1996, almost ten years ago. The concept was of an earth elemental spirit, come to inhabit a physical form and setting out to fight all sorts of environmental injustice. (Al Gore, are you reading this?! What a great spokes-hero for "An Inconvenient Truth"!)
I recently had a chance to imagine him a bit differently. The idea had always been that he would have a younger sidekick, a young man who had voluntarily taken on the earth spirit, kind of a physical anchor for the elemental to inhabit during his journeys above-ground. So in the new version (at the right in both color and black-and-white) I incorprated him as well as the new version of Earth. I was very, very happy with the way this turned out.
I am learning to incorporate more real-world textures and shading into Photoshop illustrations. I'm working my way towards understanding how to make these more "painterly", rather than just looking like flat-color comic book panels, but that's been more difficult than I'd thought it would be.
Still, this is a pretty cool update, in my humble opinion. I hope you enjoy it.
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We have a very special treat here at NerdCountry today -- a guest post from the lovely lady herself, Annie! I think you'll all agree that she is not only prettier than I am, but a better writer as well. Take it away, Annie!
I try hard to not interpret our animals' actions through the lens of being human, but instead try to see a horse as a horse and a dog as a dog. Sometimes, though, it is obvious that we share many emotions with our animals, and one of the most primal of those is fear.
This weekend Jeff hollered out to me that the horses were galloping. I love to see them do that so I ran to the windows to look. This time it didn't seem that they were playing; they were running away from something. My very large, very clumsy 16-hand Palomino was bucking and kicking out into the air like an athlete, something this rather lazy pony has never done before. I ran to the back fence and as I ran I could hear Avalon snorting. Horses only snort when they are in full instinct fear mode. Something had clearly scared the bejeezus out of two of the three the horses. Milagro, the oldest of the three, was safely in the barn scavenging for any loose kernels of horse grain. Ah, the wisdom of the aged!
When I got to the back fence, the two young horses saw me and came galloping, bucking and twisting over to me. They stopped just in front of me, eyes bulging, hearts racing. I put a hand out to them and they both walked closer to me and they each put the heads over my shoulder at the exact same time. It was like they ran home to Mom where they felt secure.
When I saw the piney looking leaves of a cedar tree tangled in Avalon's mane, I decided to go out the gate and take a closer look at the horses. I wanted to make sure they had not been bitten by a rattlesnake. As I moved my hand over Avalon's back, he flinched and pulled away from me. I saw then what must have occurred. He had been stung by bees or wasps on his back. He had large welts that were tender all along his back. I think he was grazing on grass near a cedar tree and out of nowhere he was attacked by bees, so he reared up and might have fallen into the cedar tree. Then he headed for home.
In the midst of the bucking episode, Cousin Jill's spotted donkey Cody came barreling out from the same direction the horses had come from. He was steering two of his lady donkeys out of the danger area as well. He herded them off and then galloped over to the barn where the horses had first run to. I swear his feet were hardly touching the ground as he ran. He clearly was going to check on his buddies. They all sniffed noses and then Cody skipped off to check back on his jennets. Concern for members of his pack seems very human, doesn't it?
After the horses calmed down, I stood between both horses and calmly pet them. They were worn out from their experience and their heads hung low to the ground. I decided I better get Avalon the horse version of aspirin, Bute, so I started walking to the barn. Both horses walked on either side of me and again I was awed that they choose to literally stay by my side. They all got a treat of sweet feed (their favorite!) because I have to mix the Bute into the sweet feed.
I was relieved they weren't hurt and I was deeply honored that they ran to where they felt safest – with me.
I had forgotten I wanted to write this experience down until yesterday. I was about 3 hours late feeding the horses because I had woken up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep for several hours, so I read a book. I work up at 10 a.m. the next morning and sauntered out to feed the horses, who no doubt had been standing around waiting on me since 7 a.m. Avalon walked up to me as he always does and I stopped and petted him. As I walked off to get his feed bucket, he quickly turned his head towards my retreating back and took a small bite at my shirt! He wasn't trying to hurt me and he'd never done anything like this before. I got the message though: woman, don't keep us out here waiting like that again!!
He reminded me that even though a horse is a horse and a dog is a dog, it is possible to communicate with one another. And, we all share some very basic emotions. The most basic for me is my deep love of these animals and the gifts they give me everyday.
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I sit here in my ranch house, surrounded by donkeys, horses and dogs, staring down the prospect of a morning 45-minute drive to a strip mall where I can worry about jewelry, and I am depressed because one group of seven foot tall millionares defeated another group of seven foot tall millionaires at a game involving putting a ball through a hoop in a city two hundred miles away.
It's foolish, silly, pointless, and in the morning it won't matter at all.
But right now, it hurts, stupid as it is.
Feh.
When the next series starts, I'll root for the Mavericks and their green-clad fans and their slope-eyed, hair-brushed-down-in-front flat-headed idiot owner, but for right now I plan on stewing in my own misery because my group of millionaires lost a stupid game.
Double feh.
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We had a great visit today from our friends Lori and Tom and their two adorable daughters, Isabella and Madison. The girls are also our goddaughters, so it's always wonderful to see them. We put them on Milagro, our steadiest horse, and rode them around the front part of the property and in the round pen, where there's soft sand in case something goes awry.
Later we piled into the truck and went in search of the mini-donkeys to pet them and hand out treats. When giving food to an equine, you have to be careful to hold your hand out flat so your fingers don't get caught up in the excitement. Horse and donkey teeth hurt when they bite down! Unfortunately Madison learned that lesson the hard way, as she tried to shove a cookie in the mouth of Sparky (our cutest and smallest donkey) while he was already chewing. I don't think she was hurt badly, and it was hard to tell if any skin even got broken, but it was pretty scary for a bit. Before too long though she was clamoring to get back down among them, so hopefully there was no long-term harm done, either physically or emotionally. That's one tough kid!
Some of the photos we took were priceless, I'll put them after the jump for those who are interested.
This is Bella, the oldest of the two, and as you can tell from this photo she's very shy, introverted, reserved, and demure. NOT!
I love, love, love this picture of Bella on Milagro. She looks totally confident, in control, and ready to do some galloping! After all, what would a princess be without a valiant charger to carry her among the adoring throng?
Then it was Madison's turn to get in the saddle. This child has no fear. Every animal is "Toby", which is the name of their dog at home. This was confusing to the horses, since one of them really is named Toby, but not the one she was either riding or talking to. I had to sit the horses down afterwards and explain it to them, which is tiring because frankly, horses aren't very bright.
Finally we moved on to the donkeys, where we learned that the maximum number of cookies you can shove into a minature donkey's mouth at one time is five, leaving no room for a finger.
We had a great time with the girls, and it's renewed our resolve to have a "Oops we forgot to have kids" party out here some time. There's something about the donkeys in particular that kids can really relate to, and I love seeing them get to experience animals up close and personal.
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One of the sites I visit every day is ScienceBlogs.com. I think it's vitally important, for many reasons, to support good science and science education in our country, and these guys are superior in that regard.
I don't comment much at other blogs, because I don't usually have anything articulate or interesting enough to say. Other commenters and the blog owner are so smart and coherent that I try not to put in my paltry two cents. But I wanted to do something to help out those who are out there fighting the good fight, so I designed two banners for the bloggers there.
The most recent was for Grrl Scientist, who publishes "Living the Scientific Life (Scientist, Interrupted)". Here's the new banner I did for her:
It took a lot of iterations, but we finally arrived at something I think we're both pretty happy with, which is ultimately the goal for this kind of design. She studies bird issues, specifically the genetic sequences and evolution of the lory, which is the bird at the right. The image moves from the actual DNA sequences to a strand of DNA, to a map of the region where they live, and finally to the bird itself.
The other banner I did for them was for one of my favorite bloggers, the always sharp and funny Ed Brayton over at "Dispatches From the Culture Wars":
The background image is from a famous painting by Raphael, called "The School of Athens". It depicts the great philosophers and mathematicians and poets of antiquity all gathered together, and it's located in the Sistene Chapel in the Vatican. I thought it was a good mix of all the things Ed talks about in his blog.
Even if you don't have the expertise or time or skill to directly help out a cause you believe in, think about how to support those who do. We also serve who stay behind and draw :-) And if you get the chance, check out the ScienceBlog folks, there's some really great writing about science, culture, and sometimes even poker going on there.
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"That's strange," I thought. "Turkey vultures don't usually sit on the ground cawing over and over again ... they're usually either quietly eating or fleeing." I was on my way to feed the horses and the place where the vulture sat wasn't too far, so I decided to amble over and check it out.
Ambling is big in the country. Never walk when you can amble. Or mosey. Moseying is the pinnacle, of course, but ambling will do in a pinch. I was in the rubber waders, not cowboy boots, so I went with ambling, since a mosey is quite chancy to pull off in waders.
But I digress.
I decided to amble over and check it out. As I approached the cries got louder and louder, doubtlessly saying something along the lines of "Get away, fool, this is my meat!" I suspect turkey vultures are not, as a rule, very polite.
In any event, this particular one flew off in a huff of falling feathers as I got closer (and apparently more alliterative). I closed in on the spot where he'd been standing, thinking I'd find a half-dead rabbit or somesuch.
Nothing appeared immediately, so I stopped and took a closer look. I'm not sure why I stopped instead of continuing to amble ... Maybe my feet were tired from being in the waders, or maybe the sun was in my eyes, I don't know. But stop I did, to have a look around.
And lying there, not ten feet away, was a five foot rattlesnake.
It wasn't coiled or anything, it was just lying flat, strung out. It hissed once at me, kind of feebly, and I figured it must be dying (hence the vulture). Still, a five foot snake only ten feet away doesn't leave much room for error (or lunging), so I hastily backed away, heart pounding.
Rattlesnakes are poisonous, as everyone knows, but they don't kill very many people. Partly that's due to their population dropping so quickly due to humans doing their best to eradicate them, but mostly it's because snakes don't see us, or donkeys, or horses, as food. We're too big to eat for them. So mostly they stay out of our way and I, for one, am happy to stay out of theirs.
Maybe next time I won't complain when Annie makes me tote the shotgun on our walks. But mostly I'll just do my best to stay out of their way.
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We had dinner with our friend the other night and I got the full scoop on the "Scorpion Stings Boob Twice" story.
It was dusk and our friend saw that her donkey was outside begging for a treat. She put on flip-flops and ran out for what was supposed to be a quick trip, not bothering to put on a bra (which rarely happens but hey, when you're out in the country it's no big deal). While leaning forward to hand out the treat, she felt something drop into her shirt from the tree above.
Moments later she felt a sharp stabbing pain in the right breast and yelped, dashing around the yard and yanking on her top to try and dislodge whatever had violated her person. Unfortunately the jiggering and gyrating slung the critter over to the other breast, where she again felt the horrible sting.
Finally she was able to dash back inside and the creature was expelled, but the damage was done. "It was like a plug of flesh had been taken out of both of them," she said. The one penetration mark and intense pain convinced her it was a scorpion and not a bee or spider.
Which, strangely, is a relief, as there are few things more dreaded in central Texas than the bite of a brown recluse spider (click here for more info on those guys, including some truly gross photos towards the bottom). Their bites can kill off a huge area of flesh, causing it to rot out.
"I thought my boobs would fall off," our friend said, so it was actually a relief that the culprit was "just" a scorpion.
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