Grasshopper therapy

If you recall, yesterday's events warranted the harmless posting of garden bug photos and my incredulous question to you all, which was just what kind of creature I was hosting out there in my wee urban garden. You did not disappoint. Up for the challenge, the kind readers of Freckled Citizen jumped to the entomological task of identifying the rare and exotic... grasshopper.

Well then.

I might live in a glassy high-rise now, but this has actually not always been the case. I grew up for the most part on a cul de sac that backs up to the woods, with a family farm a short and frequent drive away. I have climbed mountains and rowed rivers and swam many and varied bodies of water. Nature and I are not strangers. And yet... as I clearly did not understand that grasshoppers can grow to be huge and exist in colors other than grass green, let's go ahead and schedule a camping trip asap so I can redeem myself with wildlife, shall we?

 Vintage hiking photo as proof of above statement.

Please note Bush/Katrina-era "Make Levees Not War" t-shirt.

I now humbly defer to you grasshopper experts. And you know, despite several of your comments yesterday about finding my garden creature terrifying, he actually doesn't freak me out at all. I kind of like him. I think he's kind of cute. (And don't worry, I never saw him again, so my plants are doing just fine.)

See, today is yet another one of those days where my garden creature is my friend. I'm dealing with quite a bit of aggression. Take this old thing, for instance. That little IRS problem we had? Still unresolved. And when I called today, four weeks after they told me we'd be getting our refund in four weeks, they said I should plan on waiting another six months.

Well then.

Oh and this old thing? The movers from hell who stranded us in an empty apartment for weeks and then delivered wooden splinters in place of furniture? They've decided to bestow a whopping $186 on us for our pain and suffering.

Well then.

So there is some aggression over here, yes. I am a wee bit pissy and whiny, neither of which are attractive qualities. To my rescue is Mr. Grasshopper, who has crazy little arms and cool markings and really fun eyeballs. And instead of screaming and throwing things in between conference calls to get out my aggression today, I'm making Mr. Cute even cuter. Grasshopper therapy, if you will. Check him out:

Literally, to my rescue:

Anxiously awaiting the next Harry Potter installment.

I knew he was a good guy.

Ooh... formalwear.

Laugh, make fun, do what you will. Just don't tell me that he is actually a she, okay? The Exotic Grasshopper reveal was as much as I can take right now.