Post Mother’s Day

I am typing this with gnarled, hooked fingers. In a fury to finish the blanket I was crocheting as a Mother’s Day gift, I spent 80% of the weekend going wrap-through-hook-pull-hook-pull-hook-pull about 40,000 times. Is it bad news when you point at something and all the joints in your hand crack? Is this is the onset of premature arthritis at the tender age of 25? Either way, my mother was stoked about the blanket. Maybe a heavy wool blanket isn’t what she needs at the beginning of summer but…

Last night was spent taking down the tent caterpillars that have invaded the crab-apple trees in the front and back yards. Apparently spraying noxious chemicals at the cobwebs doesn’t do anything (because their homes are waterproof) so I shoved a stick into the middle and twirled it as though I were wrapping cotton candy at a carnival and not disgusting black caterpillars. I ran with the stick to a fire I had built in backyard and shoved the end into the flames. I thought I heard thousands of tiny screams but my sister later said it was probably just air rushing out of their bodies. In retrospect this doesn’t seem any better but at the time placated me somewhat.

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