Beetle Juice! Beetle Juice! Beetle Juice!

Okay, they're not beetles, but it's just not the same when you say, "Cicada juice!  Cicada juice!  Cicada juice!"  I'm re-organizing hard drives and stumbled upon these shots from last fall that I never posted.

So, I'm deeply concentrated, channeling my inner National Geographic photographer when my prankster husband comes up beside me, tickles my arm and yells out, "There's one on you!  There's one on you!"  Wish someone had a camera on me at that moment.  That might have been a record high vertical jump.  I'm a total girl and I'm soooo not a bug person so I totally freaked.  You know, jumping around screaming, arms flailing about.  Not pretty.  At all!  Yeah, maybe I'm glad nobody had a camera on me afterall. 

The girls heard me screaming and wanted to know what we were looking at so Chris picked one up so The Lu could get a closer look.

When he put it back on the rope he found it on we
realized his fingers had torn off the tips of the wings and we noticed some kind of fluid seeping out of the ends.  We touched it and it kinda felt like baby
oil.  It was crazy.

I'd love to know more about it.  If only there were more hours in the day.  I'd do some googling, but instead I'll take the lazy route.  Blog about it and hope a reader knows or is incredibly bored and decides to google it for me.  *wink*wink*

Have a fantastic day!
H