Albino Housefly!

First thing I saw this morning when I got up was an albino housefly at eye-level on my sliding glass door. The whole body was creamy golden and the eyes were red. The tips of its feet looked a little darker. There were no lines on the wings, just transparent. I hurried to get my camera, but the bright morning light outside backlit it so much that it just appeared dark in the viewfinder. I managed to corral it into my hand and carefully closed my fingers around it to carry it to the freezer. My intention was to cool it down so I could take a really good picture of it. I eased the fly into the freezer, whereby it promptly flew under the plastic covering for the light. I closed the door and impatiently waited for no more than a minute, congratulating myself for such cleverness and thinking where I would put the creature for its photo-shoot. On the dark green wall? Maybe one of the cookbooks with a black cover. Albinos look best with a black background. Wouldn't my facebook friends be surprised? What luck! I hastily opened the freezer door and attempted to pry off the plastic light cover. Surely it pops off, I thought, or else how would anyone change the bulb? Presently, my photography subject zipped out of its hiding spot and into the vent that blows the cold air into the freezer. Gone! And the only way to get it out would be to unscrew the vent plate! Sigh.

The silver lining is that this is maybe a good omen for my interview today. I am interviewing for a volunteer position at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum to work in the Herpetology, Ichthyology, and Invertebrate Zoology Department, or H.I.Z.Z. Erik tells me that the job mostly involves cleaning snake cages. I don't mind. I heard that they need someone to specialize in invertebrates, especially arthropods. It is true that I have spent most of my free time obsessing over skinks, reptiles, and tetrapods, but I feel I am ready and able to study arthropods and think that it would be a wondrous path to take. So perhaps the fly is a blessing from the arthropod gods.

Except that I couldn't photograph it, but it seems that I am unable to photographically capture ANYTHING of import of late. All of our photos from Montana I accidentally deleted. And there have been quite a few tender and poignant moments with Micah and Noah lately that I have forced myself, to no avail, to burn into my memory for lack of a recording device. All this is to remind me to live in the moment and be present.