Friday, June 15, 2012

Ick! and Way to Go, Guy

(the purple creeping thyme that is hosting the slug infestation)

Ickkeeey. ICKEEEE!

Is is slug mating season or what? Gross-o-mundo. There I was, innocently talking on the phone, strolling around the back yard, occasionally pulling a weed. NOT remaining stationary or anything.

Completed my phone call and reached over to grab the hose for the evening water chores. Something was itching my ankle. It was a SLUG! Or a shell-less snail. Your choice. Shudder, scream, and flick it off. Ugh.

Still shuddering. Continued my watering. In the oddest place, the middle of the purple blooming creeping thyme - a colony of slugs on top of the thyme. Truly the weirdest thing. I have never seen them there. On my raspberries? Yes. On my strawberries? Yes. On top of the thyme? No.

Got my special tool, a fork from the kitchen, and my compost bucket that sits by the sink. Scooped them all out. ICK. Really, I wasn't thinking too clearly about the fork. We do have a dishwasher and it will be sterilized, for those of you thinking of ever eating at our house again.

Hmmmm. How to kill them? No beer for a beer trap. And I am certainly not smooshing them or putting them in a blender. Maybe they will drown? Filled the compost bucket with water and finished watering.

Nope. They do not drown in water. They climb out. Dumped them in the compost garbage can. Get out of those dry grass clippings, slimy things! Will be looking for cheap beer to drown them. Yes, I know God created all creatures. I'm just not in love with these wet and clammy pests.

Does beer really drown them? I imagine they just get drunk and climb on out. Wiggly snail trails instead of straight ones.

On a 'way to go, my man' note, the grands were over. I was playing pat-a-cake with Sister, who was way past being happy waiting for her mommy fix. She liked the song. And so did Bubba. I noticed he was mimicking me, so I began to sing "The Eensy, Weensy Spider" with hand motions.

He loved it. Tried a few moves out himself. Then when I was finished, he shouted, "Amen!"

(He must be a preachers' grandson.)

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