Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Baby snake in backpack.

(Sorry this is a day late...)

In one week, I will be a gimp. In preparation for my two weeks on crutches and then month in a walking cast, I have been hiking like it is my job. Which I wish it really was, but it is more likely that I will end up doing a corporate office job than being paid to wander around having small attacks of emotion and happiness upon seeing.....

dead baby snakes?

It seems to have died from a tail injury. Sadly for snakes, they are not like geckos that just grow a new tail and continue on their scurrying type of life. Instead, they die and are then used as props for people like my mother, who held her red apple, along with the dead baby snake, right next to her face and asked if I was reminded of that certain Bible story. If only all children had such real life experiences to make the Bible "fun AND educational!" then they would have definitely kept up with their faith. Following the quick intermission for a quick skit on Eve and the snake, the snake was then \ put into a backpack, on my t-shirt, so that it wouldn't get crushed. It's afterlife was probably far more interesting than its very short living life; it rode in a backpack, then in a car, then in a hand and onto a desk to wait for its first victim. However, my father was less than terrified by the adorable, three inche long green baby and it was then placed on the kitchen counter and then made it into Emma's hand as she said "Wow, this really looks real... EW IT IS REAL."

And today there was another case of "pelletitis" and another squirrel fatality was counted in the battle between the Lichtenfels/Robins and the Squirrels. It is days like these that remind me why I love being home, and why I love that I am only here temporarily. I have found it very trying for any sort of relationship when I bring someone to meet my family. Because dead baby snakes and dead squirrels and elk antlers and back straps hanging in the garage are just normal occurrences.

The dead baby snake is now in the freezer where Margaret is keeping it for three months until the fall when she can use it as prime brown noser material for the first day of science class. After 27 types of pets, a few too many types of dead animals, and an ongoing war with squirrels, I am bordering on positive that bringing friends/boys to my house before the five year mark in a relationship is just a very negative idea; not only for the relationship sake, but because at the rate things are dying around here, it may be in their greatest life expectancy interest to stay far away.

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