We aquired a hermit crab several months ago from Courtney's second grade classroom. His name is Max. We have learned how to take care of this wonderful creature and he has adapted well into our chaos. He has never changed shells so we are always on the edge of our seats waiting for him to pick a new home. Three days ago, Courtney announced the moment had arrived and Max was out of his shell! I ran up to see him and was apprehensive as I announced to Courtney...Max is dead. I swore the crab was dead. I looked inside his shell hoping to see one of his little claws. I touched the remains, moved them around and watched them for an entire day hoping that he would move. After that day of observance, I regretably removed his remains, put them in a Ziploc baggie and threw the bag in the trash. I couldn't decide if this justified a backyard burial. Courtney asked yesterday if I had taken care of Max and I said I had and that was the end of that.
Surprise! Courtney comes bounding down the stairs today and yells, "Max is alive!" I assured her she was wrong and proceeded to take the stairs two at a time to see what in the world was going on inside this 2 by 3 foot cage in which his shell had apparently moved from one side of the cage to the other. The shell had indeed moved. My curiosity was piqued. Do I reach my hand inside this cage to determine if there is a crab ghost living there? Oh. My. Being the brave momma I needed to be, I picked up his shell and THERE WAS MAX! Apparently he had shed his exoskeleton to include what looked like to be his claws---everything. We are so happy he is alive and have promptly given him food and water--we hadn't since we thought he was dead. Now I know what an exoskeleton of a hermit crab looks like and we are officially an Amsden party of 9 once again.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
As I was returning from the mail today, I had this fleeting thought... with over 100 houses sharing the same location for their mailbox why do I never see another soul when I am gathering my mail? People collect their mail often, one would assume, since important documents do still come through snail mail; so, where have they gone? Didn't see anyone yesterday or the day before. I see the mailman every once in a while when I am stalking him for the package I am anxiously awaiting, but I never see another resident collecting their mail. Is it because of the time I go? I don't think so as it varies from day to day. Curious to know if your mailboxes are a gathering place or a ghost town?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Summer is a time to break out the sunscreen, crank up the AC (at least my husband would love if I did that--- I am too much of a miser to have it on too long), dust off the coolers, grab the picnic basket and tune up the bikes. As I was driving our neighborhood I noticed many more "second vehicle" cars were parked out in the driveway and as I pulled into our driveway, our sporty Subaru was one of the ones which had been kicked out of the shady, weather protected garage space now occupied by 6 bicycles and a Chariot stroller. It. Is. Summer. Time for the fearless escapades of Ryan and Derek as they tear down the Balance Circle sidewalk like it is the Indy 500 with little care for any obstacles in their way. Time to get the bahooka reconditioned for the ever slim bicycle seat which I swear is made of hard plastic most days. But most of all, it is time to create those lazy summer day memories that I know I will cherish in seven years when Breanna has flown the nest and is headed to college. Now if I could only find that perfect swimsuit...