The Swap: Butterflies For Ladybugs

We returned to Ukiah for a limited time but long enough for me to fret over my missing Swallowtail butterflies. 

For the past 20 uninterrupted summers wife Trophy and I have been quietly thrilled at a pair of backyard Swallowtails dancing, dashing, playing tag, disappearing for minutes at a time before doodling back onstage for up and down spiraling pirouettes. So kewl. 

We marveled every year, and every year we asked each other if it could possibly be the same duo summer after summer. It’s improbable a pair of 20-year old butterflies lives in our back yard, but equally unlikely two new ones arrive every spring and decide to make our yard their home. 

No matter. They’re gone. Maybe it’s the weather or maybe they’ve drifted off, brokenhearted, because they think I left them for good. 

It’s possible you know. They might actually think that. You can never tell. 

Now we live part-time in southern North Carolina, where few butterflies frequent our yard. Our half-acre has birds: Cardinals, sparrows, mockingbirds, robins and some others. 

We also have other wildlife in abundance in the south, and bugs is one of them. We’re strong on chiggers and have an enviable mosquito population. 

A month or two ago I noticed some bugs on an upstairs ceiling. One here, another over there, a few more in a corner. 

I was about to get the Raid can to fumigate the entire neighborhood when I realized it was just a few Ladybugs. Except for the “just a few” part. 

Closer inspection, as in actually looking around the room, showed an awful lot of Ladybugs. Singles and pairs, dozens and scores of Ladybugs were roaming about. 

A few were truckin’ up the walls, others were soloing on window frames, and one dark knot of unmoving Ladybugs clustered in a hive-like ceiling lump. 

Neighbors told me, and the internet agreed, that Ladybugs in the home are harbingers of good luck. I thought about buying a lottery ticket but feared if I didn’t win a bunch of money I’d go fetch the Raid can and teach them a lesson. 

Kidding. 

Don’t Play Ball

Major League baseball started recently and for all I know the All Star break is next week. I’m not interested in the season and wouldn’t attend the All Star game if played at Anton Stadium. 

I did 70 years devoted to the Cleveland Indians before being put on waivers, unconditionally released and no longer welcome at Progressive (what else?) Field by the board of directors of the Cleveland Baseball Organization, Inc. 

My bet is none of the members of the board of directors of the Cleveland Baseball Organization, Inc., (A) grew up in Cleveland, or (B) are baseball fans. 

So I’m O-U-T out!! at home, along with Chief Wahoo and the team name. Now they are called, weirdly enough, the Guardians, which I think is an undergarment for old guys, a diaper reinforced with extra-strength webbing to hold large loads and up to a quart of liquid. 

Hope the Cleveland team loses every game, 50-0, and that average daily attendance in 2023 is no more than a dozen or so politically correct fans. 

And in 2024 the team moves to Berkeley. 

Theater Gets Facelift

Two thumbs up, as movie critics used to say, for the spiff job on the old and beautiful Ukiah Movie Theater. 

Colors are both contemporary and perfectly retro; exterior signage promises audio and visual improvements too. I’d like to see the interior, and I will someday, but darned if the movies brought to our screen aren’t mostly loud and frightening. 

Related note: It’s been nearly three weeks since I’ve heard a single thing about a new Star Wars episode. Hope everyone is OK. 

They Musta Been High

Now let’s have J Holden take control of the keyboard the rest of the way: 

“At 30,000 feet on a flight back from San Diego on my birthday I arranged to have the flight attendant announce ‘May I have your attention please. James Holden in Seat 11F has an important question for Deborah Moore in Seat 11E: Will you marry me?’ 

”If your answer is ‘Yes’ press the flight attendant button.”

“She did and the 200 passengers erupted in applause and cheers, and we were served champagne and chocolate.” 

(My friend Kip and I immediately organized a bachelor party for J. We’ve reserved adjacent rooms at the Motel 6 on South State Street, secured a brick of Peruvian cocaine, a case of Rebel Yell Bourbon from the Carolinas, and half a dozen of Albion’s best-looking hookers.) 

Kip and I will be unable to attend. Deepest regrets. 

Best to the lucky happy couple! Send them expensive gifts!