Bananas are the worms of the fruit kingdom

Ah, springtime. The air is warming, the breezes are slight and welcome, the cherry blossoms are emerging, the lawns are slowly greening, and the occasional rain is perking up the tired shrubberies and encouraging tiny crocuses to burst forth from the thawing soil.

Do you know what else the gentle, sweet-smelling rains of spring are doing?


FLOODING OUT THE MOTHERFUCKING WORMS.

Now, don't get me wrong, I totally dig the nature scene. What I lack in actual wilderness skills, I attempt to make up for in enthusiasm. I will watch (and enjoy) a two-hour PBS program about the world's largest crocodiles, killer bees, sloths, or the mating habits of invertebrates of the sea. In fact, a good portion of my winter break was spent learning about the snakehead fish, or Channidae (well, that and Freemasons...). My leisure reading currently includes "The Life of Prairies and Plains", and the stupidest excuse of a state I've ever lived in (Maryland) is only redeemed by its state parks and woodland creatures. I hang nineteenth century biological prints of beetles and snakes in my dorm room. I know what Michigan's state flower is (trillium), where to find it (low-lying, in shady to partial sun areas of woodlands), and why I shouldn't pick it (it's pretty rare 'n' stuff). My favorite books as a child were "The Root Children" and later "Where the Red Fern Grows". What I saying here, and I think you've picked up on it by now, is that I am by no means ANTI-nature.

Here's where the beetles an bugsies come in. I'm kind of...not totally okay with all of them, PARTICULARLY worms. Oh gosh, I shudder to think of them, actually. In the days when I walked the one and a half blocks to Willow Elementary, I came close to hyperventilating on many a rainy morning in April. Worms are just...icky. They're all squishy, and squiggly, and...ew. I'm grossing myself out here just thinking about it.

Actually, the real reason I'm grossing myself out is that the means by which I evaluate a bug's relative ickiness is by evaluating its hypothetical mouthfeel.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Krissy. Um. So like, you imagine...so wait, WTF?"
And I know what you mean! But see, I don't actually ever EAT bugs. I don't WANT to. And I don't imagine how they would TASTE. I just, you know, contemplate their texture and chewiness. So, not actually weird at all. If a bug seems like it would be squishy or slimy (I don't like melted cheese, Portabello mushrooms, pudding, or bananas for a reason, people), then chances are I am either grossed out by or afraid of it. If a bug seems like it'd be crunchy or at least kind of firm, then no problem (I'm a fan of the exoskeleton, apparently)!

In conclusion, I can't wait for it to be May.

Get to Know Your Serotonin Representatives

There comes a time in every girl's life when she asks herself: "How well do I really know my circulatory and nervous systems?"

This usually occurs after an episode of syncope, as it did for me, and it led me to physician after physician seeking answers. this is because, as it turned out, I didn't really know my circulatory or nervous systems at all. Here I had been, thinking that my fainting spells were "out of character" for them, when really it was them finally manifesting their underlying character. It had been there all along.

With every new pronouncement of pathology that gets filed away in my ever-expanding medical record, I get to experience that strange collision of frustration ,worry, fear, bafflement, optimism and doubt that is the moment of diagnosis.

And so, upon reflection, things really aren't so bad after all.