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Why am I holding a glass mug in front of my crotch? Yesterday our friend Steph hosted a yard sale at her home in Pennsylvania. (That explains the enormous amount of greenery surrounding me.) One of the items she offered for sale was a glass mug she got free while working at MTV Networks many moons ago. It was from the show, "That's My Bush," and thus said, "That's my Bush" on the mug. I joked that I was going to put pubic hair clippings in it. Husband pretended to be repulsed by this idea, yet suggested that we could collect clippings from all of our friends for the glass Bush mug.

Husband and I arrived at the sale around 10:30. We sat outside until after 4:00. During those many hours on the grass and under the trees, I saw more types of bugs than I have seen in the last five years. (Ah, the country.) Since we mostly sat in the shade under a large tree, and it is caterpillar hatching season, I saw many of the furry multi-legged creatures. Unfortunately, a good portion of them tried to crawl up my pants. (No, caterpillars! That bush is not for you!) The most successful one made it all the way to my knee before I felt an odd tingling sensation and removed the pervert.

Even if they were driving me mad, I thought they were kind of cute. They have funny little markings on their heads that remind me of masks. (Sort of like Kiss members paint on themselves, but cuter.) Husband decided to photograph one of the more innocent moments of caterpillars wandering around on me.

Later, we used our yard sale earnings (about $30 for random items we carted over from our apartment) to celebrate Steph's birthday a few days early. After dinner, we hit Dairy Queen. (Thus prompting a discussion of how terrifying Carvel Ice Cream's evil Cookie Puss ice cream cake is.) It was a perfect day.

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