Sunday, May 6, 2012


     Sorry about that last post. I knew where it was going an hour before I started but got lost along the way. Story of life in seventeen words. Maybe I'll remember where that somewhere was when I'm down in the basement and trying to recall what I'd gone down there for. Better one memory in the hole than dementia.
     Ladybugs. A couple of years ago I went nuts at a supply shop for hairdressers. That was Lois' occupation at the time and I'd follow her inside once in a while when she stocked up. Not much browsing  -wise for me even though I can find some form of entertainment pretty much anywhere. Usually in a supply shop I'm limited to checking out the high end scissors. The ones I use for lure tying run three bucks apiece at a flea market. Hairdressers can blow several hundred dollars on the high enders. That puts 'em in the holy crap end of life and can keep me amazed for about four minutes. Yeah, I'm one cheap bastard. Once the shock wears off there's always the holes in the ceiling tiles to count.
     However, on the occasion in question, I wandered by the closeout table and found a plethora of nail polishes. Like little bottles of liquid jewels complete with brushes. At a buck a throw. Bought me a baker's dozen. And have been coloring beads and blades all kinds of garish colors ever since. I mentioned this about fifty entries ago. But I needed the intro.
     Over the months I've gotten better, or weirder, depending on your point of view, in decoration. This year's discovery, orange-red blade with tiny black dots. Looks more like a ladybug than it doesn't. I have no idea if bass, trout or panfish eat ladybugs. They eat mayflies, ants, grasshoppers and all kinds of wiggly things. Why not lady bugs? As a spinner blade they'll look more like directionless insects on methamphetamines as they go rotating by. So I doubt the bug ruse will have any meaning or effect. But they're fun to make and look mostly cool in a tasteless, senile old man kinda way.

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