miscalaneous

How to effectively take notes : 🌸

This is what I accomplished during transitional skills workshop today

I think that it was a Brown-belted bumble bee (Bombus griseocollis), based on my research. They were laying there on the deck rug in the morning. I thought they were definitely dead to be completely still, sitting there with their wings fully tucked in and so exposed. I also thought to myself that this would be a cool addition to my insect shadow box idea, where I save and pin dead but otherwise intact large and interesting insects I find. I already have some sort of large moth, a bumblebee would be cool. I thought. So I go to pick up my new find so as to protect it from curious dog paws, and lo an behold they’re (barely) moving their fuzzy little bumble-legs! I spring into action, getting a small ramekin, filling it up with crumpled paper towel and enough water so that they can drink it but also safely not be submerged in the cool liquid. I used a dry piece of paper towel and coaxed them onto it and then laid it gently into the ramekin on top of the table and out of the way for safety. I thought they might be a goner, I thought I might’ve been too late. I petted their so fuzzy tiny yellow thorax with my index finger ever so gently willing them to revitalize. After some more research I mixed up a 1:2 sugar to water solution. There is conflicting info on the web about offering this to bees, so I only dropped a little bit of the solution into the ramekin in which I had them already sitting rather than offering straight sugar solution. This whole process took me about two hours of watching them intermittently for progress. Also I couldn’t stop petting their fuzzy yellow thorax. If you ever get a chance, pet a bee! Then I went kayaking for five hours. When I made it back home and checked the ramekin there was teeny tiny little black specks throughout the paper towel like teeny bee prints and they were gone!!! Successful save attempt and full heart.

What would the drinker say?

If you think you don’t journal, go back and read your old texts.

The bottom sentence. JB used to pace the perfect perimeter of a cell, roughly the size of a sedan, as he thought or when he was stressed. I figured it out before he did, watching him in the showroom that he was still pacing his cell even though he was out. He thought it was hilarious.

My alcoholic friend can’t understand that. Or does, but is attempting to drown it.

Borrowed book. Annotations. Little flower gifts a mere page turn away amongst criminals and darkness. It’s not wrong.

Felt that.