I had been watching Kate and Jon while Meg ran errands. When she came home, she burst through the door and immediately went to the balcony/porch and called for me to come with her. When she had stopped for gas, she had found this luna moth. Figuring that it wouldn't last long at the gas station, she looked for a way to bring it home. Someone was kind enough to provide a cleaned and dried out McDonald's cup and cup cover. Between the two of them, they were able to coax the moth into the cup.
Meg held the moth up so that I could take a few photographs before she let it go.
I got this face-on angle and a photo from above the moth. Meg then tried to get the moth to crawl onto a post or on one of the heavy clay pots on the porch. It had other ideas: it flew up and landed on Meg's shirt, began to vibrate and then took off. We thought that it would pick a light-coloured background where it could rest for the day.
It flew over the balcony railing and fluttered down to latch onto the building's side wall: a large, light green, triangular leaf--caught on the brick surface for a time.
After I two weeks of baby and toddler, this moth was a reminder to both Meg and me of the wide world that was still counting time just beyond the apartment doors.
I still can't imaging how they got the moth into a McDonald's cup for the ride home to Megan's.
Today I go to look for another car for us to use. We seem to be drawn to Jeeps and trucks--or at least that is what Brent brings to me in piles of print-outs, neatly stapled at the top left corner. I don't mind the travel to see each vehicle--I just don't trust myself to discover what is/could soon be wrong with the car and need repair. I can tell that I feel the stress because I am intensely tired--my usual reaction to stress.
When I go to to car hunt today, I'll have to bring ice water to drink and some music to sing aloud and perhaps also Nathan so that we can talk.
I got our breadmaker out from under the counter--where it has been stored for the last 6 years. Megan and Anton got me started with this. They grind their own wheat. I am torn between my promise to Brent to never feed him powdered milk or whole wheat bread (He grew up on these and harbors a profound dislike for both of them.) that I made just after we were married.
Which idea to obey: the Lord's admonition that we live off or our food storage so that we can rotate it--and my marriage vow to never offer such basic food stuffs to my companion and sweetheart. If this weren't so silly a situation, I would laugh at myself. This month in Relief Society we are suppose to bring a calendar listing all of the dinners that our families eat. Somehow I don't think that take-out pizza and salad along with take away from Cheesecake Factory will help me improve the list of foods that we store.
Never know 'til I try, though? At least I have the calendar on my fridge door. One step at a time.
