Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Sara's House Of Mustaches And Reptile Farm

Sounds like something you would encounter in the South doesn't it? Right next to a Waffle House? Alas, it is not. I think I'm from the wrong geographical area. I would have done well in the South. I could have been one of those eccentric old women you always read about in fiction. As it is, I'm just a backwards Illinoisan transplanted into the even more backwards Hoosier state.

[Do not send me hate mail, Hoosiers. You cannot deny some things. There is plenty of evidence for bassackwardness out there. Case in point: Does anyone in the rest of the world know what time it is in Indiana? It's okay. Follow in the footsteps of those Crazy Southern Ladies and embrace your bassackwardness! Make it work for you!]

Anyway. Sean attended a birthday party over the weekend and one of the favors was a sheet of fake mustaches. This has to be my favorite party favor ever. We had fun trying on the different types of mustaches. (The word mustache isn't looking right to me, but my spell check and Mr. Webster agree that I am spelling it right. Would it look more correct if I spelled it with the alternative "moustache"? hmmmm...) I couldn't resist and grabbed my camera.

Dashing, isn't he?

Oh no! Guard your Fritos! It's the Frito Bandito!!!

Then, because I am eccentric and I am working on embracing my craziness, I tried on a mustache (moustache?) and took a self-portrait. You should know that I am much more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. I will take a bajillion photos of everyone else, but someday, my children will wonder if they had a mother because I am in so few photos. And that's the way I like it. So it is with all my willpower that I post a picture of myself-- (Also? I am not wearing a smidge of makeup. I am brave, y'all. And crazy.) wearing a mustache.

If Austin Powers were standing behind me in that picture, he would be trying to rip off my hair and saying "She's a man, baybee!!" God as my witness, I look like a man. A hippy man. A hippy policeman.

Or Frito Bandito's mama from the Old Country.

Yikes! The experts always say you should be careful what you post about yourself on the Internet. Well, there it is. I've just posted my deep dark secret for the whole world wide web. To quote Miss Britney Spears:"You call me crazy? I got your crazy!"

And now that you've seen the mustaches, I'm sure you're wondering about the last half of the title. (My high school English teacher would either be extremely proud of how that title encompasses everything in this post and draws the reader in, or she would shake her head in disgust.) The last half of the title refers to my yard.

A turtle has laid eggs in my yard, people!! A real, live turtle has deposited eggs in my yard and buried them. I have pictures to prove it.

On Sunday when I took the dog out in the morning, I was on my way back into the house and saw that our turtle had returned. She was sitting in the middle of my back yard and not moving. Upon closer inspection, I realized that there was a mound of dirt behind her and her hindquarters were slanted into a hole. The light bulb went on and I went screaming into the house and woke up the children. "A turtle!! Laying eggs!! In OUR YARD! GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!!!" The children all came out and looked. Even Maggie, who had missed the last episode with the big turtle, got up and came to see. My Mags, the Rack Monster, out of bed so early? This was big, folks.

I took pictures. See?

She sat on the hole for a while and then she started moving her back legs and covering the hole with the dirt. And then? She left them. That's quite a move there, reptile. Way to abandon your offspring.

Actually, a quick consultation with Mr. Google informed us that there is no such thing as orphaned turtles because that is what is supposed to happen. The mom lays the eggs and then she's done. The babies are on their own after they hatch and that's it. Most don't make it to adulthood. And my children think they have a rough life. (Now that I think about it, Mama Turtle might be on to something...no laundry, no cooking, no whining, no fighting....hmmm...)

This might explain why we saw small turtles earlier this year. I had seen a mound in our back yard, but didn't think much about it. I thought perhaps the dog had been digging. Actually, truth be known, I thought it was a massive pile of doggy boomboom, but then realized it was dirt. I think that perhaps the turtles we found earlier were hatched from eggs that wintered over. Don't know for certain, that's just wild and half-informed speculation on my part. (Ahh, the wonders of Internet searches. You too can think you're an expert on anything in mere minutes!)

I do know that we need to put some kind of screening over the nesting site so that skunks and raccoons can't eat the eggs. And then, in 60-80 days it'll be Turtlemania around here. If all goes as expected anyway.

Cross your fingers. Because when does anything around here ever go as expected?

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