Selective Powers of Observation (in Multiples of 4)
I live in a house with 12 foot ceilings. The top edges of the doors are 8 feet high. I have a 16 year-old son who somehow neglects to notice notes I leave for him written in bold black marker on full-sized sheets of paper placed in places he must step, like the landing on the way down the stairs from his bedroom. Yet, this very same boy spotted a bug with a body less than a centimeter long (albeit orange) on the dusty top edge of my bedroom door, 8 feet above floor, which is more than 2 feet above his head, (which is at least a factor of 4, if not a multiple.)
Allow me to introduce him. Meet The Assassin. He's waving hello.
He most probably rode into town on one of the plants I dragged in from the balcony in anticipation of huricane Ivan.
I swept him into a casette tape case and took him outside to photograph.
It was challenging. I put him in a box of glossy inkjet paper and he was a fast mover. He tried to escape many times. (He's still wearing some of my house dust.)
I did manage to get one decent shot of him while he was in the box. But i was so limited in terms of angles and he was so fast that I returned to my encased portraiture approach. His hairy legs hold my house dust pretty well.
I think he's perfect for a starring role in a cartoon. He's got so much character when he's up on those threaddy rear legs with forward legs waving like arms, giving us a full, frontal view of that proboscis and those serious, wide-set eyes. He's rather adorable in this stance, though I find him somewhat disgusting in his profile portrait with his nasty, roach-colored vestigial wings seen in relief on his back.
He was not happy about his confinement in the tape case. Rachel claimed to hear a tiny, barely audible voice cry, "Help! Get me outta here!" as I was taking this photo.
I spent way too much time online trying to identify him and after much effort, I succeeded. Meet the Thread-legged Assassin Bug. His happy face is a nice departure from the heaviness of the last posts. And my son will never be able to get away with missing one of my notes again.