I like that word. It has a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, konayuki has little to do with my newest discovery, but it still deserves a pedestal. You'll see why, but before that there's this little something I want to share with you all.
Finally, I can say it out loud: Summer is officially over. Which means the end of the unbearable heat and sunshine dust. I've always preferred cold and dark places. Once a teacher of mine suggested the cemetery as the ideal home for me. I felt a little offended then, but if I think about it, he really needed guts to say that to a pupil and I respect that.
As part of something way bigger and much nobler cause than my attempt to entertain I am about to share an interesting story full of twists and unexpected turns.
In fantasy shapeshifters are like wearing a black cocktail dress. With suitable accessories and proper presentation things rarely go wrong. Not to mention that in the XXI. century one can hardly avoid knowing the true colors of a werewolf.
That said, I have to admit I've been foolishly ignorant thinking wolves seized all the blessings a 'were' prefix can provide. Apparently I was wrong. Being an ordinary human, I usually don't like it when I'm wrong. But this time I'm glad I made this little discovery for two reasons:
One: My open-minded-consumer-self learned yet another thing about mythology and folklore. But this I shall mention no more. Because, despite its benefits, it would be way too boring. Besides, who likes that unmistakable flavor of "Not sure if I'm being educated here". (A 'jk' might be due here. And yet, there's none.)
Two: My wooden-headed-critical-rascal-self laughs out loud every time I read werehyena or werecat. And this is not even the best part.
I let my imagination run wild, which led to a whole list of were-things.
The first item is Raspberry, my dog. Every time someone sets his/her foot in our yard she turns into a barking-yelping twister. For that, Raspberry deserves the title: werewoof.
The love of my life spends at least five nights a week in front of his computer. I've always been suspicious of that, now the mystery is finally solved. By day he's an ordinary geek, but by night he turns into a fearsome wereprogrammer.
Does that make the code he writes werecode? I wonder...
At last, but not least I give the title of weresloth to myself for the many days spent being a vast consumer of animes, mangas and Asian live action dramas. I should aware you. The weresloth's fate is similar to a creature named Gollum. It includes skipping meals, neglecting personal hygiene, sitting in front of a screen for hours and other hideous habits. Long term side effects may vary.
Advice corner: What to do if, after reading this, you start discovering new were-creatures on every corner?
Be a good girl/boy and introduce yourself nicely. And if, by chance, you survive the encounter, come back here and share your experience for the greater good of mankind.
Seeing someone actually heed my advices would be rather... well, rather surprising.
Before I tell you the story of an interesting August afternoon, there are two things you need to know.
Firstly, my in-laws are the nicest people I've ever met (no, seriously, they are), but my brother-in-law (hereinafter: B.) is downright crazy. Imagine middle-child syndrome meeting the selfish game-addict with no sense of responsibility whatsoever and you can't be far from the truth.
Secondly, his self-destructive lifestyle amazes the hell out of me. Which is why sometimes I just follow him around. It's a lot like seeing Jack Sparrow in action, only without the yummy Depp-like looks (sorry B.).
Much like vampires B. rarely leaves the house during the day. But when he does, something big is about to happen. Last week, for instance, he found a 200 years old sword in his grandmother's house. That was the day, when he decided a treasure hunt was due.
About two centuries ago there was a huge battle near to our village. Luckily, he found a few other dreamers and with the motto "Let's tear up the place!" we went on a life-threatening quest. The funny thing is that everyone had a different goal. B wanted to find another sword. A little boy searched for World of Warcraft items. There was also a guy who kept wandering how did B. manage to convince him to tag along. And I went out for a good story.
After two hours of digging the hard soil (excluding me, I just watched) next to an ancient looking poplar B. and the boys gave up. That day I was the only one who got what I wanted. But this is not the end of the story. B. purchased a metal detector and we are going back. As soon as the rain stops, that is.
Advice corner: What to do when you're bored out of your mind and/or are under a lot of pressure (reasons may vary)?
Find a dreamer and dream together. And if it doesn't work, if you can't laugh with such people, you can still laugh at them. The latter might seem mean, but all is far in a war to stay sane.
Needless to say pretending to be a cartoon hero by digging in someone's backyard is rather adventurous.
Letting a Yorkshire terrier use your backyard as a hunting territory is not necessarily a bad idea. Although it might turn into one if the above mentioned yard is the Bristly foxtail's favorite place in the whole wide world.
The Bristly foxtail is a weed that grows faster than Asia's GDP. If that wouldn't be bothersome enough, its flower has that annoying nature of sticking into clothes and fur. Apparently my dog refuses to get disturbed by any of this. You can imagine the horror I felt when the other day Raspberry presented her new looks to me.
Advice corner: What to do with a dog that turned into something you are positive if E.T. had it he could probably phone home?
You are in need of three sharp items: scissors, sight and reflexes. It also won't hurt if you build up a little patience. And by little I mean a vast amount: almost as much as you need to suffer through a summer day without internet, cell phone, other people, any sort of food and liquids. If you reach a level where even Buddha would be jealous of the result, you can be sure that no blood will be shed on either side.
Did I mention that the two hours of life-and-death hairdressing were rather adventurous?
Have you ever had a life threatening encounter with a Bristly foxtail, a dog or both? This is the perfect place to let it all out.
Many people had heard about stick insects. A few of them even seen one. Thanks to a couple of friends, starting today, I live with seven.
As long as I don't have to touch them, I don't have anything against non-mammal animals. Stick insects are on the top of my list, since all they do is pretend to be tiny branches. Turns out, they sometimes take breaks from motionless stand and engage in other activities. Which brings us to the story how did I became the proud owner of Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Happy, Bashful and Grumpy. My seven little dwarfs came from a friend, whose insect staff proliferated. As a two birds, one stone solution, she brought a few to our housewarming party, eight of them, to be exact.
The love of my life was very excited about our new pets and decided to make the perfect terrarium for them. Long story short, it looked good. We put the whole thing to its temporary place: the kitchen table. With a job well done, we went to sleep. It wasn't till the next morning that we found out the terrarium's sole issue: low survival rate.
We are lucky people. Our kitchen baths in sunlight all morning thanks to the windows and terrace door. Since we are in the middle of summer season it doesn't only mean light, but hot, hot, hot. Let's just say the stick insects don't appreciate the latter. Their up close encounter with the Greenhouse Effect turned to a near-death experience for the most of them. We have one nameless soldier, who died permanently.
When I discovered the poor little fellows neither of them looked too promising. But thanks to my fast thinking and fanning the remaining seven survived.
Advice corner: What to do with overheated stick insects?
The most effective way to save them is to take the terrarium to a dark and preferably cool room. Open the glass box, spray a little water on them and fan and fan till your hands fall off. After a short period of time they should start moving again. If not, well, we all know what that means.
Bottom line: keeping stick insects as pets is rather adventurous.