IdyllopusPress Presents

Been a while since I’ve done a not-quite-in-focus ant update. The critters have shown slightly more industry over the past 12 days, but, as they say, it’s not much to write home about. I did send Uncle Milton (from whom I’d purchased the ants) my last photo update, because they’d said to keep them apprized on our ants’ lack of progress, and as they didn’t respond I guess their request to keep them informed was one of those, “Yeah, we ought to get together some time,” kind of “Um, yeah, not really” kind of things.

The performance of the ants is still largely “mediocre” but they have, as you can see, begun to tunnel a bit in the lower right hand corner!

Are we impressed?

Well, H.o.p. is. “The ants digged a tunnel!” he yelled.

But I was busy with the great front of ant activity in the kitchen and it took me two days to remember that “digged” is not yet a bonafide word.

Finally, it rained a bit here in Atlanta, and whenever it drizzles after a period of no rain, we get an influx of ants into the kitchen from the back area. This has been going on for three days. The first morning I got up to find the kitchen covered with them, and thus so was I when trying to deal with them. Fortunately, I discovered that spraying the floor (and my feet and hands) with Orange Glo stops them in their tracks and kills ‘em dead. But if you wipe up the Orange Glo (which you must do, of course) then it stops acting forcefully as a deterrent. So today we found them flooding in again. And, again, we sprayed the back door and the floor and the trash can with Orange Glo and now I’m preparing to clean it up as the dead ants are so thick that it looks like the area is covered with coffee grounds. At least no fresh incursions have transpired since today’s spraying of the Orange Glo.

So, there’s my handy household tip for dealing with ants. Spray the floor with Orange Glo. Yes, it’s oily and you’ll fall flat on your ass and maybe even bust your head, but it’ll stop the ants.

H.o.p.: “Mothers are so embarrassing.”

CORRECTION: H.o.p. pleads that he instead said, “Mothers are so enchanting!”

Yup.

Walks down the street past the window, a woman with bleached blonde hair done up in a fraying bun, in a heavy quilted coat, tight jeans and fuzzy mukluk styled boots. Glances back over her shoulder, up the street, as she nears the drive to the parking garage where a dark truck has been sitting, idling. It pulls forward as she approaches the drive and she advances, the driving rolling down his window. They talk for a couple of minutes and the street becomes busy suddenly with a number of cars rolling past, she seeming to pay attention in particular to a white truck as it goes by. She turns around once now with her coat held open and up in the back. Perfunctory. Matter of fact. Closes her coat. Another car passes and they talk a little more then as another man wanders up the street on the other side she crosses ’round the front of the shiny dark truck, climbs in the passenger side and they drive off.

A second woman comes down the street now, a little shapelier, form a little less hidden by her coat but not much less, wearing jeans, boots, arms crossed over her chest against the cold, hair straightened, lips shining in the dark under the weak and liquid street lamp. Crosses the street and speaks for a while to the loitering man, laughing. There’s something about the exchange that reminds me of the body language of workers on the service side of a cafeteria line. He goes on his way and now comes back around the truck the first woman had seemed to pay particular attention to. A somewhat ragged out, stripped down, utility looking truck. Pulls into the drive of the parking garage and turns around as the second woman advances, glancing back over her shoulder. He rolls down the window as she approaches and they talk for a while. Then he drives off to the right and she walks left, climbing the hill back up the street.