Where I attempt to share things I make with the internet, one day the art will outweigh my photos, then I will win. Also, attempting to start a business! Check out the Chibi Yeti links below :D
come closer one second
okay close enough
i have a simple question: which of us is wearing a crown?
that would be me.
do you know what this crown means?
it means i look fucking cute
and you’re the human embodiment of a sore butt
now as your fucking queen, i royally declare
that i am beautiful and you are a listerine enema
Special for Tumblr, while i’m waiting for my phone to charge so i can leave the house! The snake rescue was popular, so here’s a rescue story of an even more cold creepy animal, lifted from my blog.
You remember the BB gun with a crab inside? We found more crabs in danger on Tuesday! The tide was out further than we’ve ever seen, and right at the waterline, there was a tangle of fishing line next to a snag. The tide was just starting to come in, so I had to wade out barefoot, but I figured it might be worth it. I found a big ol’ red rock dungeness crab,** and judging by how tangled up he was, he’d been there for quite awhile. He’d already lost a leg, and one of his mouth-parts was tied up. :( Seamus called from the dry parts of the shore to ask if I needed his knife, and at first I said no. After all, I could pick those loops off of his legs…
…but then I saw the snarl under his belly. And then I saw ANOTHER crab, and grabbed that one, too. Sorry for the bad cropping—as you can see, my hands were full, and Seamus was a little too distressed to properly frame the picture. After all, the tide was rolling in fast, and we had a lot of work ahead of us before the water became too deep to help the crabs.
I know they’re just huge bugs, but there shouldn’t be a bunch of garbage for them to get tangled in to begin with. Our species is totally the worst thing to happen to the planet since giant meteors punching a Gulf into the western hemisphere. If I get the chance, I like to clean up after us.
The second crab was easy to free, but the first crab was going to take a few minutes, so I held the whole tangle while Seamus sawed it free, even as the water reached for our rolled up pant legs. It was a race against time! We were like the MacGuyvers of tideflats!
We scooted back to shore, past a bewildered Briar, who couldn’t figure out why we wanted to play with a tangle of crappy trash and the ugliest kitty* she’d ever seen when she had this marvelous stick that could be thrown. Creepy Briar fact: That is the same stick she had the last time we were at this beach. She managed to find it again because she is obsessive-compulsive.
Mr. Crab was quite docile, and I’m practiced at handling them, so no one actually got pinched, but Seamus did scrape his hand on barnacles while he was trying to cut the mess free. He has been crowing ever since about how he got wounded during a rescue mission.
Hanzo met the crab briefly, after it was already playing dead. (His nose is safe! At least, probably. In my experience, crabs rarely wake up for pinchicuffs after they’ve already entered playing dead mode.) Briar didn’t even notice it was alive, or if she did, she still preferred her stick.
* We say “no kitty” about any small animal my dogs are not allowed to chase—including but not limited to cats, squirrels, birds, and leprechauns.
** ETA: Keffy caught that. I thought I remembered black tips on their claws, which is how I inexpertly tell the difference, but I glanced at the photos and they are totally yellow. My bad!
you made my day