The Creatures You Meet

Yes, it's been a while.

So we bought a house.

And I didn't want to say anything, because for a while there it looked like it would all fall through. Then it didn't, and we had a house, and we had to move into the house. And I was like, blog? What? Do I have one of those?

But we're moved in now. It's way more suburban than we'd prefer, but there's this thing about price ranges and location.

On the upside, we have a yard. I've planted some things that will hopefully survive, and there's room for us to take crazy art projects (more on that later) outside where we won't destroy the wood floor.

On the downside... we have a yard. DANG it.

And suburban though this might be, I'm learning that having a yard brings you a little closer to nature. You take care of the lawn and observe every critter you see, in case its behavior turns invasive.

In fact...

We chose this morning to attack the lawn. I went as the vanguard, trowel and gloves at the ready, pulling weeds so the fella could mow. (And by the way, there is no faster way to age yourself and face the sudden reality that your hipster days are like so totally finished than to push a lawnmower around the place. Again: DANG it.) Everything was going swimmingly - and then, I spied something unusual:

At least, I thought it was unusual. I don't know, we're new to suburbia. Maybe these things crawl out of the sewers all the time.

But that's probably Florida. And this is Texas. Do they have free-range crawfish in Texas? Um.

He was still alive, too - he was crawling through the St. Augustine. I was willing to pick up the guy, but we had no idea where to put him. Should we be humanitarian and give him a shot at life? Or boil him ourselves?

Turns out, the neighbors are having a crawfish boil. He'd set down the cooler for a few minutes next to the house... and a couple escaped, and tried to make a run for it. Quite fresh and healthy little buggers, too: they were like five feet from where he'd set the cooler. The neighbor kindly picked up the stray crawfish and returned them to death row.

We combed the yard to make sure no more renegade crustaceans waited for us. After all - and I'm no expert - but I think that would gunk up the mower.

(DANG it.)