Cicadas

Well, this year is the 17 year return of the cicadas in the Chicago area. I don't remember too much about the cicadas last time. Even though I was 16 at the time, they never really made a showing in my neighborhood. The only time that I saw them was during a trip to Brookfield Zoo at the tail end of their showing when their carcasses started to pile up.

 

This time, they are much more apparent. My son gleeful went through our backyard collecting the moltings of the cicadas that were stuck to every conceivable surface. While I have only seen the occasional part of a cicada in my yard, I sure can hear them. This weekend, I happened to go to the zoo again and the sound of their mating call was unbearably loud. I felt bad for the poor animals having to put up with the incessant noise.

 

Nowadays, we know the cycle of the cicadas in the Chicago area and their overwhelming numbers are something we are prepared for. I wonder if the first settlers to this area freaked out when they were invaded by millions of horny, noisy bugs.

 

My daughter asked about the life cycle of the cicadas and I told her how they spent 17 years underground, emerged for a month or so, mated, and died. She replied, "What a boring life." I would have to agree. Imagine waiting 17 years to have sex and then die. In geeky circles, there is always jokes about how in Star Trek, Vulcans only have sex once every seven years are that is far more frequent than the average nerd has sex. Ha ha! Still it would be much better to be a pointy-eared Vulcan with a seven-year-libido than an ugly bug, that lives underground just to wait 17 years for the chance to have sex.

Girlfriend

I have been terribly remise in actually writing anything in my blog lately. I suppose that it has something to do with the fact that the weather is actually nice and I am not cooped up in the house anymore. It may also have something to do with the fact that I actually partially have a life now. While most of my life still revolves around my kids, which sadly means that I know far too much about Disney Channel's programming, the rest of my life is pretty busy with my girlfriend. That sounds totally weird to me. I am  33-years-old with two children, a dog, a minivan, and a mortgage. Somehow, saying that I have a girlfriend  makes me feel like I am in high school again. Part of that is good, the feeling of youth again, but the other part that sucks is just sounding like a teenager. I wish that there was a better term for girlfriend when you are in your thirties, but oh well, I will still take it.