Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

The millers are back, the pesky moths making their annual migration from the plains to the mountains every spring, stopping by the house for their dreaded in-law-like visits that turn into extended stays as they get lost in the maze of suburbia. I spent five minutes trying to capture one as it fluttered lazily against my window screen. It bounded slowly from screen to my palm to sill and back again as my fingers repeatedly failed to enclose the bumbling set of powdered wings. It finally fell, quite by accident, against my other hand and I clumsily, gently caged it within my grasp to throw it out the patio door. And just yesterday I was congratulating myself on a new found bowling talent — something I'd never admit outright to anyone other than you, dear Internet reader — discovered quite coincidentally at an office charity tournament, in which I bowled five straight games over 125. I left feeling as though I could transform any spherical item into a precise, deadly projectile. Further developed still is the superior eye-hand coordination gleaned from years upon years of Super Mario Brothers, Duck Hunt, and Lode Runner that I played incessantly as a kid. It occurs to me that while I may have some impressive deft and agility when it comes to games and activities of leisure, an awe-inspiring ability to point, with razor precision, the mouse cursor on any pixel (go ahead, name one), the practical application of such ability continues to elude me. The moths may have won this year. But I'm practicing.