Yes, I'm still pregnant and no, I don't want to talk about it.
I disturbed nature again this afternoon. If you all remember, I ran off some baby birds last summer (and, as you also may remember, I wasn't terribly fond of the particular "breed," especially those who still call drunk around Midnight).
Today, I think I slowly killed a caterpillar clinging to my tomato plant.
I'm pretty sure I identified it from photos online: a hawkworm (soon to be a moth that gets inside and eats my sweaters, so what am I really worrying about; and, yes, I have an exorbitant amount of time on my hands right now).
The poor thing had rows of small, white fuzzy things covering it (I won't say the word, but I think they become flies), so to rescue it, I got a twig and gently (this is where plans went awry) massaged them off.
Green "blood" started oozing out; I said, "Sorry!" and ran inside the house.
If I have a prissy little girl who's afraid of bugs, I won't want to talk about that, either.
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