Encouraged

Our house was shown to a prospective buyer this morning, on its 12th day on the market, and the feedback from our realtor (as well the buyer's) was very good. They would like to come back next week to see it again! We're feeling optimistic for now, so we'll try to enjoy it.

It has been a tough and exhausting week, but the house is spotless and in the most perfect condition it has ever been. We'll have to continue living in museum-like perfection for a while, but I don't mind.

Today was a slow work day - a welcome break as the Spring semester closes. Tomorrow is Commencement, so I do have to come to work on a Saturday, which always sucks. So I thought I might take advantage of the slow day and take a long lunch w/ pedicure. My poor footsies have really taken a beating lately, and I've neglected them. I thought the pedi would be relaxing and rewarding. I called four salons in this dinky little town, and there were no appointments available - not because they're booked, but because apparently they all share a traveling manicurist that rotates through every other week or something insanely inadequate like that. Maybe I'll try my luck this weekend in O-town. They really are a mess.

But back to the house - send positive vibes this direction that these buyers put in a sound offer, and very soon - the quicker we can secure this, the quicker we can solidify the contract we have on the dream home....

xoxo to my peeps

Spring to Summer

Though it's a bit of an awkward shape and has some 'old house' issues, I love our living room. Last Sunday, I spent the morning dusting and swapping out some wintery stuff (like heavy drapes) for lighter, more summery accessories. My m-i-l gave us a big conch which works very well for this. I don't have a lot of tchotchkes because I was never much of a collector, and I don't have a lot of larger decorative items because generally speaking, I'm too cheap to buy them - instead I spend a lot of time rotating what I do have and trying to make them coordinate in different ways. It's like a fun decorating puzzle.

I added semi-sheer light cotton drapes for the season (Target). I think they lift the room and make it feel pretty and more seasonally appropriate:



Two summers ago we had some loose stones in our chimney reset, and we are lucky that the mason who originally created it 20 years ago lives a few houses up the road. He's retired and aging, but very skilled. For a ridiculously low hourly rate (as long as my husband agreed to do the heavier lifting and dealing with the scaffolding...which was fine by me - the dude is like 150 years old and the thought of him teetering near our rooftop was rather unsettling) he fixed the chimney and re-did our crumbling back steps to match. The same stone work surrounds our pellet stove inside - our mason friend told us it all came from the mountain behind our house. Even cooler.

Here's the chimney (before we re-did the deck). You can see the newer mortar is much brighter...all those stones had to be taken down, cleaned, and re-set.
Here's the back steps. The walkway (which is done now, but in progress here) is new too...there was old rotting decking there before, which we removed, and Tim added the pavers. He's so awesome. He really really is, and I adore him. Even though he doesn't clean up after his messy projects. He just figures things out and does them - from plumbing to carpentry to electrical stuff. If I were on my own with house issues such as we've had, I'd either a) moved into a condo, b) called my daddy and cried, or c) put a tarp down and called it a day. Permanently.


I'm proud to announce that I did some minimal weeding today (I hate yard work). I think maybe if I get really cute gardening gloves, possibly with matching gardening clogs, I might do it more often. We'll see. Anyway, in the scheme of all the overdue landscaping that needs tending to around this place, it's nothing, but it was satisfying. I also trimmed and tacked to perfect length the new drapes pictured above. Even more satisfying. Here's some cute floral pruning gauntlets. Yes. I think if I could ask, "Now where are my linen pruning gauntlets?" I might find myself doing yard work more often.


I let Sam play outside for about half an hour with no sunblock so he could make some vitamin D for the week - they really overdo the sunblock at preschool even though I wrote "only as needed" in his file...perhaps I should have been more specific: Allow him to be outside without sunblock for the first 5-10 minutes, then apply, and only May-September months. I suppose with multiple pre-schoolers to track, my request might be kinda picky. Then again, considering the tuition, they should be feeding him caviar...

He's finally more interested in non-scribble coloring and writing letters now too - all in all, he's slowly getting to the 'capable of entertaining self for extended periods of time' stage, which I've been waiting for, it seems, my whole life. One of these weekends I'm gonna count how many times I hear "Mommy". Just for kicks.

Hopefully his more consistent independence will allow us to actually do a little more outside this summer (ok, that was a lame excuse...whatever). Last year's garden was an epic fail, but I have high hopes for this summer. Not that I fret - if something doesn't do well, I don't try to slueth it out (is that even a legit term? Again - whatever. You know what I mean). No, I can't deal with trying to mitigate pests and diseases...I'm just not interested. My mantra is that if a plant can't survive under my basic care (water and sun), it just wasn't meant to be. I will really relish my 2 tomato crop...I'll let you know the day they are picked.

Lazy is the new awesome

If you are still reading my blog, I thank you for your patience and unwavering faith that I would post once again.

We are nearly into the second week of June, and there's been a lot happening here...I won't go into much detail because I am a little low on creative juice levels necessary to make our fairly ordinary life sound impressive and exciting, so I'll just give you a brief run-down.

Sam's 3rd birthday party was fun - our friends with kids could not make it, but he didn't seem to mind and had had a blast. The Batman theme worked out well too.

The following weekend I began my last graduate class (5 Saturdays, 9-5). Three left! Then I can be the Mac Mommy with the M.A. and the S to the izzle, cause I'm the sha-zizzle. Or so I believe.

In the meantime, Tim has been busy trying to finish our back deck, and putting together the cedar play set Sam received as a gift from his Grandpa and Grandma "L."

Here's some pics!

Finally, I learned from my recent physical that I am/was vitamin-D deficient. This may have contributed to many of the troubles I've been experiencing the past year, and so about 10 days ago, I started mega-supplementing, and I'm happy to report that I am feeling pretty amazing. Sure, weather is probably helping, but it's also a big relief to know that what I was feeling and experiencing was not "all in my head."

And most recently:
Tonight our Weber grill (yea, I name dropped because now I officially hate them and Weber SUCKS) burst into flames. I'm not even trying to be dramatic. It really did...it was its season debut and we just wanted to grill up 3 little hamburgers. But NOOOOO....

Flames were shooting out of the valves and such, not a typical flare-up. Tim had to put it it out with the fire extinguisher. The knobs melted and I was really afraid the tank would blow, but he acted pretty quickly...we're not sure what the problem was. One of the burners went out last summer, and Tim suspected a valve defect, but now it's hard to say how much more might have been really going on. It's too bad, really, it was a sweet housewarming gift from Tim's parents. We'll have to shop for a new grill...I'm hoping we can wait until the end of the season for a better deal, but this means a whole summer with no grill, which kind of sucks.

Tonight was supposed to be a get-together of sorts here in town for a group of people I used to work with...it's also Alumni weekend, and that factored into the theme of the eve to some extent as well. After weeks of talk, most people backed out as of this afternoon. It is kind of disappointing, but, on the upside, I don't have to clean. Instead, I'm heading out with my friend Allison for some wine and mischief.

I'm off to get pretty...will check in again soon. With new shoes too. Really.

Parade Smart

Today we went to Oneonta's Centennial parade. We didn't have a serious interest in going, but figured Sam might enjoy watching, and he really did! He waved to everyone and shook his little booty to the marching band music. He was thrilled when the participants threw candy out to the crowd, and he collected a small bounty of lollipops and Tootsie Rolls in his sweatshirt pocket. He hasn't experienced much in the candy world, so he wasn't bent on eating it. We let him have 2 bite size Milky Ways, and he willingly handed his lollipops over to us - actually he made a little game out of it: He would take a lollipop out, examine it, and decide, "This one is yours, Daddy." or, "This one is for YOU, mommy."

Sam was amazed at the horses. I like horses myself, I think they're beautiful. I don't know much about them though, in fact, I believe the last time I was on a horse was during a 6th grade school trip to Rocking Horse Ranch...that was 22 years ago. Yikes! Anyway, as they passed, Tim pointed out, "You saw the bags on the back of those horses?" He had that certain tone I have come to understand is part matter-of-fact and part about-to-mock-you. There's no way to win, so I looked for these 'bags' that he was talking about. And of course I spotted them - big black bags slung directly under the horses' butts, partially covered by their tails. Poop catchers. To myself, I thought, "Ew! Genius! Ew. So they won't poop on the street!" I planned to turn back toward him all nonchalant, like, "Um, yea, SO? I know what those are. Duh." but he was grinning at me - my eyes had already given my epiphany away.

Hudson River Smarts

I can't write a love letter about living upstate without giving fair props to my suburban roots. Sure, I spent some time in rural Italy, but I was born and spent most of my life in Peekskill, a smallish city north of the city. Let's be clear, we all know what city. The only city that rightfully owns the name, "The City." A high school friend of mine attended Hartwick, a small liberal arts college in the same town as my state college. A healthy portion of its students are from New England states. Every now and then, my 'Wick buddy and I crossed campuses and socialized. One fourth of July weekend, I joined her and some of her friends in Vermont. These friends spent a lot of time talking about The City: who's moving to It, who's working in It, and when the next trip to It would be. I became confused because I wasn't familiar with any of the neighborhoods or streets they referenced. When someone at last said something about the Mass Turnpike, it finally occurred to me that they were talking about Boston. How quaint. They call Boston "The City." I was outnumbered so I kept the hilarity of it to myself.

If you've never lived in New York, you might not understand this superficial and slightly off- putting attitude. I guess it would be like a Southerner defending country music. There's no sense in the argument, it just is what it is. I don't know for sure if people in oh...let's say...Georgia are talking about Atlanta when they say The City. They probably are, and considering their distance from New York, I suppose that's acceptable. Plus CNN hq is there, so that makes it even marginally cool. I'm sure the suburbs folks around the nation's capital mean D.C. when they refer to The City, and Californians - well who knows what Californians are ever talking about anyway. Anywhere in the Northeast, however, and The City means only one place. And it. is. not. Boston. Massachussettians (?) can pretend all they want in their own state, but they know the truth. Boston is a fine, fine city, don't get me wrong - it's just not the Boss of the Northeast or of..well, again let's be clear: of the Universe.

Tim spent most of his life around this area. I like to say I married a townie. Every now and then, in conversation, we discover a stark difference in our upbringing. It's usually trivial, like for example, how he used to do 'barn chores' while I worked in a retail strip mall. He had a paper route, while I made the headlines. OK, not so much on the headlines. But you get the idea.

My last entry listed a few things I learned as I've assimilated to my upstsate life. I can't list all the things I knew in my former life, so instead, I'll list a few notes we've compared and some things Tim has learned from marrying a Westchester suburbanite:

People:

• We (downstaters) look younger for longer. It's probably the treated drinking water. Or Indian Point 2.
• I never saw a rundown trailer park growing up.
  
• Tim never saw an urban housing project growing up.
• He's realized the dark side. (starts with R and ends with epublican).
• I've realized that no one does pizza right around here.
  
• We're not all rich. The obscenely rich just live among us. Their bling simply makes us look blingier.
• An eight cart long check out line at the grocery store is a lucky find downstate.
• Now, however, I'm spoiled, and if I have to wait behind 2 carts, I'm fit to be tied.
• I maintain that unfriendly and silent cashiers make for more efficient shopping.
  

School:

• Our schools are big enough that even if you're a loser, there's plenty of other losers to hang out with, so that actually will end up making you cool in your own circle. Win-win.
  
• No one in my graduating class lived on a farm.
• No one in Tim's graduating class was a crack ho.
  
• Our district did not bus regular students because nearly every school was within reasonable walking distance.
• Comparatively speaking, much fewer rural kids seem to be within reasonable or safe walking distance of anything. Except hay.
  
• Our Spanish, Art, and History teachers were actually 3 (or more) seperate people.

Location:

• The Hudson River is a major reference point down there.
• A creek is major reference point up here.
• People don't fear snow around here, and it gets so cold, the snow actually squeaks.
• It snows a lot downstate too, but the first 2 snowflakes somehow signal mass chaos to commence.
  
• There are indeed many real farms in Westchester and Long Island. The only difference is that our chickens wouldn't be caught dead in last season's feathers.

Rooster Smarts

I readily admit to being clueless when it comes to what some might consider obvious knowledge or what I call 'upstate knowledge.' I do not want to paint myself as a city slicker with no appreciation for the rural life - on the contrary, I love the outdoors and have grown accustomed to living upstate. It's just that my exposure to things rural has been limited.

From age five to age eight, I lived in Italy with my family. We had a vineyard, a wheat field, walnut and chestnut trees, an apricot grove, and even chickens and turkeys. Sounds rural and farm-y, right? It was, except our neighbor farmed our property and shared the profits, while my family concentrated on their small business. I didn't observe much about farming, and all I knew for sure about the fowl was that they smelled. Foul.

My grandmother lived with us as well, and among a number of now irrational sounding warnings, she cautioned me to not wear red when I'm near the rooster because that would make him angry. I guess maybe they're like bulls in that way? Do we really care? Anyway, one afternoon, I wore my new red plaid coat and ventured down to the cages. Suddenly, around the coop wall, came the rooster, squawking and pecking at me. I ran in circles and cried for help. He was relentless! My father appeared and kicked the rooster aside and swept me up. Shudder. That beastly rooster saw my beautiful red coat and wanted to take me down and peck my eyes out! Little me! The rooster must pay. Kill him at once, father! And kill all these hens too! Of course, I milked that tragic event the rest of the afternoon and got everyone's pity, although I believe they secretly found it hilarious and mocked me after I went to bed.

When we returned to the States, we settled back in the metropolitan NY area, and happily lead la vita suburbana. At one point, my dad tried to raise chickens and a rooster in the shed, but after one too many mornings of sunrise cock-a-doodle-doos, the neighbors complained and threatened to notify City Hall - the chickens were eaten and that was the end of that.

I've been living upstate for a long time now - almost 10 years, and that's not counting college. I present to you a sampling of my amazing farm, outdoor, and general nature epiphanies and things I've learned over the past decade...things that simply missed my consideration growing up 'downstate'.

• Just yesterday I learned that the sunflower seeds that come in snack bags actually come from the centers of those big yellow sunflowers that I see growing allover the place around here. Sunflowers = sunflower seeds you get in a bag - amazing and tasty knowledge!

• Hay comes from really long, overgrown dried grasses. It's what would happen if we let lawns go crazy. Hay does not itself grow grass. You still need seeds for that apparently.

• Perennials = flowers that come back every year. Annuals = have to be planted every year. Hmm. Touche.

• Cows do in fact lie down to sleep.

• County Fairs are not just a mid-west phenomena. Ditto with State Fairs. I didn't know NY had a state fair until ca. 1997.
  

• Llama farms. Really. That's it. There's one half a mile from my house. They're cute. Yay llamas!

• If you don't know what that enormous, horrible, stinking piece of filthy, crazy looking machinery chugging alongside the shoulder is, it's probably a manure spreader. Do not look directly at it.
  

• Hollywood depictions of the young, virile, tanned, cute farmer driving a tractor on an endless field of gold are quite accurate. Good news, eh?

• Ditto with depictions of creepy old toothless ones.

• If you kick your rotten pumpkin off your front step and behind a bush, and ignore its rotting little pumpkin-y carcass, in about a year you will have a pumpkin vine growing near your front door. True story.

Dear Irritated,

Spare me. You're clearly a woodchuck farmer-person that thinks I'm some kind of a big city. My parking is sufficient for bureaucrat schedules, and that's really all that's in in the job description anyway. If there are shady types taking over after 4:30pm, can't help ya. It's a union thing.

As for my signage, it was designed by the Dutch, and as everyone knows, they have superior eyesight. Something to do with the water levels.

My tulip festival is well attended so I'm not sure where it is exactly that you'd want me to put my tulips, so instead, I'll extend you an invitation to next year's event. I hope that you get four flat tires and get towed to boot.

Finally, though I haven't always been the capital of New York, I'm the shiznit now. Try doing anything in this state without having yours truly involved - who's your capital, beeyotch?

Sincerely,
The City of Albany

Dear Albany,

If I were a state, you would not be my capital.

While I appreciate your place in history and all, you pretty much suck. Wow, where to begin? Let's start with your pretentious location at the crossroads of a hundred of highways and rivers. I mean really. Who do you think you are? What a dumb place to build a city. It's like you want people to hate you.

You don't have any sensible parking, and the parking that you do offer is run by the mafia. Did you know that? That's right. The mafia. Pay us $1000 cash to park 4 hours or we'll knock out your headlights right here. With this big bat.
Parking in NYC is much friendlier, Albany. You should talk to them. Their mafia is much more efficient, plus they take debit and give you a receipt with a smiley face. Sometimes they even leave mints on your windshield. Of course you shouldn't eat them because they might turn out not to be mints at all, and you might spend the rest of the night crouching behind garbage cans and talking to friendly rats. But still, it's the little touches.

Your Palace Theater is lovely, if one can get to it. I suppose when there are no hurricanes swirling over the Northeast, your stupid stylized street signage might be legible. Did you guys try reading these when it's dark and pouring? Maybe Albany-ians have superhuman eyesight. I suppose that's how you find your parking too.

Maybe you think you're special with your government plazas and your Egg and your Dutch influence. I'm here to tell you that you are not. Maybe you are the fourth oldest city in the US, but you are the first in Suckiest. Put your clogs and your tulips away, Albany. You are not the capital of this New Yorker. I have no capital.

Sincerely,
Irritated Visitor

*Is that you, Carol?

Every now and then, what's usually your humdrum mail arrives with an unexpected piece that livens up the day - a letter, a card, a check for 5 million dollars, and so on. Our mail looked pretty typical yesterday, but as I sorted, a thin catalog caught my eye. It was one of those catalogs hocking hundreds of silly and bizarre inventions like Poop-Freeze and bed skirt pins.

I started to skim through it anyway, expecting and seeing the usual junk. What I didn't expect was a 2 page spread on...um...erotic items. In the middle of the catalog, just randomly in between Household Helpers and Lawn & Garden, there were a variety of vibrators pictured with vivid descriptions. There was also a selection of DVDs, including the titles Totally Nude Yoga and Totally Nude TaiChi, both "sure to get your heart racing." It generally takes quite a bit to shock me, and I don't normally react much to these sorts of things, but I was caught off guard this time. I flipped to the front again - Carol Wright Gifts. I flipped to the back and there she was, part of a little logo, with a big smile and a smart haircut...she's like Betty Crocker. Carol Wright! The Carol Wright that has been selling America its dickies and cat-motif door stoppers for decades! Carol Wright whose biggest rival is the one and only Harriet Carter! At what point did she start selling sex aids?? Oh, Carol.

Adding to all the silly, the addressee turned out to be folks that live few houses down the road, whose last name differs from ours by 2 letters. They own a tree farm, and around Christmas time we get calls from people that mix up our names - unfortunately ours is first alphabetically in the phone book. They're older, more conservative types (as evidenced by their political lawn signage), and the thought of this catalog sitting around their house is forever seared into my brain. I may return it with a sticky note, "I accidentally received your catalog, and didn't realize it until after I looked through it. Really enjoyed pages 13-14. Thanks a bunch!"

The Key to Saturday

Tim's work schedule has been brutal this summer, often leaving me feeling like a single mom. It's not something he has much control over, so I try not to be resentful and too whiny (me? whine?) but after endless weeks of it, I'm done, fried, irritated, and anxious for things to fall into a better pace stat.
Yesterday was just like most Saturdays this summer - Sam and I were on our own all day long. We do have a lot of fun, from the playground to running errands to whatever, but let's get real: he's 2 and we live in rural east Boringville... you thought I was going to call it something else didn't you? Something about a big fat bee doing the naughty? Well, we can call it that too in our heads, I won't tell.
You just can't have a total blast every day, and being in rural east Mumbletruck with no neighborhoods or sidewalks, we mostly have to drive to do stuff. Grr. Anyway, Samuel had a cranky morning and then decided (against my counsel) to skip his midday nap. This situation never turns out well: I depend on his daily nap to shower and do things that require my focus and attention, and I get very frustrated when I don't get this precious 90 minute reprieve. Sam in turn gets cranky and demanding for the rest of the afternoon which leads to a lot of time-outs. OK, so you get the idea, we're both Waaas and it's only 3pm. He ate his snack, and I suggested we go play outside for a little while.
We have a new back door with a new lockset/lever. It's the kind that is unlocked from the inside even if the outside is locked - you know, the STUPID kind designed to complicate life. I opened the door, helped Sam down the steps, and promptly locked us out. It's about 3:15 and Tim wasn't due home until 5:30.
I tried not to think about it for a while. We watered the garden, checked the mail, and rolled around on the lawn. I soon realized that the kitchen window was open, so I set up a ladder and was able to open the screen - yes! I decided against squeezing in, however, because I didn't think I could clear the faucet - the lovely Kohler faucet that was expensive.
We can't easily go for a walk ever because we live on a 55mph road. I walk it myself, but would never ever walk it with Sam or the stroller. Our property actually forms the corner of a state highway (the 55mph) and a nice gravel road called Calder Hill...Calder Hill is a nice walk, but it's steep and not toddler friendly. Before I had Sam, I would also walk an area across the road where there's a river access to the Susquehanna, some rough paths, and the town's transportation department equipment, sheds, etc. I haven't walked there with Sam because (and this is the truth) I have secret fears that maybe it might be polluted - it looks ok, but there's grown-over areas where people have dumped stuff, there's old culverts, rusty things, and so on.
It had to be almost 4 o'clock and Sam was bored and asking to go inside and play blocks. I put unfounded fears aside and walked Sam across the street and down toward the river. We stuck to the main paths and it was ok-ish. He really liked seeing the bulldozers and dump trucks. When we got to the access, someone was launching a boat, so we watched that. As we made our way back, we climbed the gravel mounds. Sam was totally into this - he would try to scramble up, only to slide back down and kick up dust and make noise. Of course during the fun, Fretful Mother kicked into gear and I freaked out that 1) he didn't have sunblock on and it was HOT, and 2) we might be breathing in too much rock dust, so I coaxed him down and we continued back to the house.
We were probably gone about 45 minutes...but I had no idea what time it was. We played in my car....I let Sam twist and push every knob and lever and climb from front to back to front to back. Yay. He asked me for water several times. What a bad, bad mommy. No water for her thirsty, sunburned, toxic-dump frolicking child. We had the garden hose of course, but I'm going for drama here. We were laying under the maple (I think it's the one Tim calls maple) when Tim finally pulled up. It was 5:36.
True to form, Tim never told me that he put a new spare key right in the garage. Even if I suspected that we might have a spare, I never would have looked in the place it actually was.

And Some Love

Top 10 Things I Like About Oneonta, NY

10) It’s pretty from a distance
9) Water Street (I’ll take the good with the bad – regardless, it’s unique)
8) SUNY Oneonta
7) Autumn Café
6) McLaughlin’s Shoes: old fashioned and Gordon is so nice
5) Both diners
4) The birthplace of GL & P, Inc. (Green, Ludden & Partners – telling you what’s hot and what’s not since 2001)
3) The Green Earth
2) Student influence
1) It's where Tim & I met (awwwwww - shut it)

Hate List for the O-peeps

Top 10 Things I Hate About Oneonta, NY

10) Razzle Dazzle’s hours – 9am to 2pm: seriously??

9) Oh look, another tanning salon!

8) 7, 135 dollar stores and counting

7) An hour from Albany, an hour from Binghamton, and an hour from Utica. Ugh.

6) The Eichler’s Seasonal Country Tree

5) J.C. Mini Penney & The Southside Small

4) Brooks BBQ: you know deep down it’s kinda gross

3) Franklin Mountain, mostly in the winter

2) Walmart Super Center

1) People who call it Onee-Ah-Na

Sometimes Nature is Off the Mark.

This thing was crawling - well, no -it was heaving itself across our front walk. It's some kind of caterpillar, clearly...but this big? Tim said he never saw one quite this size and shade of green and with this particularly weird tan-colored fuzz head. He pays much more attention to nature than I do, and therefore knows everything about it. For example, I know maybe 5 birds for sure: bluejay, eagle, pigeon, crow, and uh...parrot. Do chickens, ducks and turkeys count as birds I recognize? I'd probably recognize a vulture, but only if they're the kind that look like the creepy cartoon ones with the ring around the neck. He knows birds like sparrow and cardinal and lots other ones I can't think of.
Anyhoots, back to this monster: it looked like a tropical space caterpillar. At least, this is what I think a tropical space caterpillar would look like. A pregnant one. If The Very Hungry Caterpillar eventually turns into a beautiful butterfly, this one is the Food Addicted Morbidly Obese Caterpillar that eventually turns into Mothra.
I asked Tim to scoop it up and put it on the road. I went back inside. The inevitable happened. Tim said it made a loud pop. Mean? Meh - it could have made it to the road all on its own anyway, right? And who knows - it may have indeed been a space caterpillar, the actual first one about to reproduce on Earth and take over, so we might have just saved mankind.

Note: we later discovered (thank you Google the Great) it was a polyphemus moth caterpillar, known to feast on a variety of trees including maples (we have several on our property). It would have turned into a rather large so-so looking butterfly (or mothra). I had a moment of guilt thinking I had Tim place it where it would meet its doom, but the truth is that I don't really like butterflies. Sure, they're pretty when fluttering around at a distance, adding dreamy ooh and ahh to the scenery, but upclose they are big ugly scary bugs in fancy costumes. yikes.