A cockroach can live a week without his head...
by Andrea Mulder-Slater
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am obsessed with bugs - and not in a good way. I refuse to camp, hike, bike -- or for that matter go outside, so as to avoid the creepy crawly little bastards. I suppose what I'm saying is, don't read this if you're squeamish about antannae, abdomens, thoraxes or mandibles. Consider yourself warned.
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I have a thing about bugs.
The thing is, I don't like them. No, actually I despise them. A lot.
I come by this honestly. My father was the kind of man who meticulously sealed any and all cracks in our houses with a caulking gun (or 10 or 20). So fastidious was he, that there was no way any vermin (not tiny bug nor giant rat) could infiltrate our compounds.
Me, I do my best. Once, when we were "under construction", I (after spotting an earwig) unleashed enough spray foam around a window frame that my bedroom wall started to buckle.
Bugs know I hate them. They do. I know this is true because I am the only one who sees the damn things in our house - usually right before I am ready to go to sleep.
My husband? Nothing. My mom? Zilch. Bugs never crawl on them, creep past them or land on them.
Then there's my daughter, who appears to have inherited the bug-hating gene, despite my best efforts to be brave as I repeatedly read her books like "I Love Bugs". She can spot insects so tiny, spiders so minuscule, that even I can't see them.
Curiously enough however - she is rather partial to slimy critters with no legs such as worms, slugs, snakes, etc. Go figure.
Still, there are lots of people out there who love bugs - adore them even.
Yen4Yarn makes "popular pins for peculiar people". Pretty, yes... but the spider brooch makes my skin crawl.
Then, there's Steven Kutcher. He is an artist who applies paint to cockroaches, flies, beetles and other assorted creatures and has them "paint" pictures by crawling across paper and canvas. Creative and creepy. Oh dear.
"The appendages are tucked under the body so as not
to detract in form or reaction from the striking display of nature's
brilliance." This is what Christopher Marley says about his insect mosaics. Shudder.
Mike Libby customizes real insect specimens (yes, that says real insect specimens) with antique watch parts and other technological components. I really am going to have to lay down (with a can of Raid®) after finishing this blog entry.
And finally (because I just can't take this anymore) here are some intricate glass (at least they aren't real) bugs created by artist Wesley Fleming.
No, really.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I am obsessed with bugs - and not in a good way. I refuse to camp, hike, bike -- or for that matter go outside, so as to avoid the creepy crawly little bastards. I suppose what I'm saying is, don't read this if you're squeamish about antannae, abdomens, thoraxes or mandibles. Consider yourself warned.
-------
I have a thing about bugs.
The thing is, I don't like them. No, actually I despise them. A lot.
I come by this honestly. My father was the kind of man who meticulously sealed any and all cracks in our houses with a caulking gun (or 10 or 20). So fastidious was he, that there was no way any vermin (not tiny bug nor giant rat) could infiltrate our compounds.
Me, I do my best. Once, when we were "under construction", I (after spotting an earwig) unleashed enough spray foam around a window frame that my bedroom wall started to buckle.
Bugs know I hate them. They do. I know this is true because I am the only one who sees the damn things in our house - usually right before I am ready to go to sleep.
They
hide in my shoes - like the ant who bit my toe when I slipped on my
flip flop the other morning. They crawl around beside me - like the
earwig who crept past my hand as I was drying the dishes the other
night. They fly into my head - like the moth who landed on my cheek just
as I was putting down my book and getting set to turn off the light
yesterday. And they taunt me - like the cockroach the size of Cuba who
scurried over my foot in our Texas vacation rental, right before my dad
nailed him (her?) with a pack of smokes.
My husband? Nothing. My mom? Zilch. Bugs never crawl on them, creep past them or land on them.
Then there's my daughter, who appears to have inherited the bug-hating gene, despite my best efforts to be brave as I repeatedly read her books like "I Love Bugs". She can spot insects so tiny, spiders so minuscule, that even I can't see them.
Curiously enough however - she is rather partial to slimy critters with no legs such as worms, slugs, snakes, etc. Go figure.
Still, there are lots of people out there who love bugs - adore them even.
Yen4Yarn makes "popular pins for peculiar people". Pretty, yes... but the spider brooch makes my skin crawl.
 |
| Yen4Yarn |
Then, there's Steven Kutcher. He is an artist who applies paint to cockroaches, flies, beetles and other assorted creatures and has them "paint" pictures by crawling across paper and canvas. Creative and creepy. Oh dear.
 |
| Steven Kutcher |
 |
| Steven Kutcher |
 |
| Christopher Marley |
Mike Libby customizes real insect specimens (yes, that says real insect specimens) with antique watch parts and other technological components. I really am going to have to lay down (with a can of Raid®) after finishing this blog entry.
 |
| Mike Libby |
And finally (because I just can't take this anymore) here are some intricate glass (at least they aren't real) bugs created by artist Wesley Fleming.
 |
| Wesley Fleming |