"WHO’S YOUR DADDY?"

OHMYGOSH! You would not believe the size of the unwelcome visitor I just very carefully cupped and ushered out.

Remember all those little scorpions we've occasionally seen around and wondered, where's your daddy?

Well, he just appeared on the floor of the guardaroba:yikes! We are not talkin' small! I didn't have my glasses on when I walked by this giant black thing, thinking it might be a very big beetle. But once I put them on, uh-uh.

Somehow I managed to get the bedroom light on, open the door, turn on the hall light, open the Smiling Buddha window

and send him elsewhere. But my special cup took a beating in the process. Never fear, however. I have repaired it and it is now ready for further action.

Oy! But better in the guardaroba than in the bedroom. I am thinking that he may have come in with the towels and clothes I carried up from the pool. I prefer to think that he lives elsewhere. I would have liked to have taken his photo just to prove that this is no tall tale, but it seemed too risky. On the other hand, I do have an artsy photo of Jiminy Cricket being cupped with the special Picasso postcard sent by a former French student--the first piece of personal mail I received here. I recently bumped into him before his graduation, but did not tell him to what use I put his sweet postcard.

I have turned it into a part of a photo story, the makings of which I include below. The name of the story might be

                                 JIMINY CRICKET USED TO LIVE HERE

Jiminy Cricket posing and making himself at home on our utility room wall, prior to being cupped and given a free trip out the front door inside a plastic Michelin cup set atop a French postcard. (no, not that kind). The card is a Picasso "head of a woman"--maybe even a nutty one who likes to transport bugs via special delivery.

A Jiminy Cricket's-eye view from inside the Michelin plastic cup

Reading the postcard:"Since I'm trapped in here, I might as well get a little reading done."

"Hey, wait a minute! It's in French!" (if only he had studied French as hard as this student, he would see that it's in pretty good French, at that!)

"All right already.You can just take that rock off the cup and send me packing. Moi, je ne parle pas francais. Je suis italien! And I don't care much for modern art, either. Besides, your house wasn't that great anyway. I'm outta here. Arrivederci."