Signs of Spring (In the Inflation Building)

Through the years, I've learned to always look DOWN when entering the inflation building at work in the wee hours of the morning. You never know what's going to be scurrying, crawling, hopping or lurking on the floor at that time of the morning. That doesn't even take into account what might drop on you when raising the overhead doors! I've encountered rabbits, opossums, millipedes, centipedes, scorpions, countless numbers of tarantulas, Gulf coast toads, insects of all shapes and sizes and even a snake or two. So it was nice to finally see signs of life late last week, after our colder than normal, seemed like it would NEVER end, El Nino winter. Our overnight lows had finally inched up into the lower 70s, optimum for all creatures, large and small, to emerge from their winter naps.

As I entered the building last Friday just after 5 am, an odd shape immediately caught my eye on the unfinished cement floor. It was no bigger than the end of my thumb but I knew it wasn't supposed to be there. Suddenly, a short hop and I recognized the odd shape as a Narrow-mouthed toad. I had never seen one in my 16 years living in Brownsville although I had heard their distinct calls from our infamous "moat" that surrounds the office. The moat is nothing more than a poor attempt at a drainage ditch that fills up when the resaca across the street overflows during a heavy rain event. But, when filled, it teams with all kinds of creatures, including crayfish, frogs and even carp. So after finally seeing my first Narrow-mouthed, the first thought that went through my mind was "photo subject!" I easily caught the tiny amphibian and dropped it temporarily into a balloon bag while I went about the business of inflating the weather balloon. Back in the office, I transferred my subject to one of the many plastic containers, conveniently tucked away in my cubicle for such situations.

On-line references suggest that Narrow-mouth toads actually share burrows with tarantulas where the two (apparently) live in harmony. We have a large population of Texas tan tarantulas living around the inflation building so that probably explains why the toads have chosen to reside on Weather Service grounds.  And despite their miniscule size, they project a BIG sound.  Their call can best be described as a high pitch buzz, much like the sound of a summer cicada. On quiet, calm nights, the chorus can be heard some distance away (click to hear.)


After a quick series of photos, I'm happy to say I released my friend early this morning in the culvert that stands in front of our inflation building. I hope to see more in the future and I hate to think it might take another 16 years!  Regardless, I know I'll enjoy a chorus of toads, maybe as soon as tomorrow evening, when the threat of rain again brings out their song.

Narrow-mouthed Toad in Darlene's Hand

My Subject, the Great Plains (Western) Narrow-mouthed Toad (Gastrophryne olivacea)

~*~Happy~*~*New~*~Year~*~

~*~*~ Happy Holidays ~*~*~

Charlie Don't Mosh

I've never been more out of my element than at the Megadeth Concert this past Monday night up in Corpus Christi. Don't get me wrong, in spite of the cold, wet weather, I enjoyed Megadeth. It was the three "death metal" bands (as Darlene called them) that proceeded Megadeth that made the night that much more miserable. I've never been a fan of the so-called speed metal bands so I've never had the "pleasure" of seeing any in person. But, Darlene has always wanted to see Megadeth so when she got the e-mail alert from The Concrete Street Ampitheater that they were coming to Corpus, she bought tickets on-line immediately.

The gates opened at 6 pm and, of course, we where there on time. The first band, "Arcanium" started shortly after we arrived. Honestly, I don't remember much about them because we proceeded over to the Megadeth merchandise "shack" to browse the tee-shirts and such. I bought Darlene a $45 "tour" shirt (long sleeved) and then we headed down to the stage area. We were happy to see the area covered since there was a 100% chance of rain that night. There were even flame heaters spaced across the back that a few people were already gathered around. As we found a place to stand, the lead singer said there were 2 more songs in their set. Honestly, I really couldn't discern any real music so it could have easily been just one long song. I'm not sure. They incited the sparse crowd to make enough noise so that Megadeth could hear the cheers in their tour bus then they were gone. One down, two to go.

The crews efficiently changed the stage sets, exchanging drum kits and microphones. Two large posters of a bloody woman laying on a rusted box spring were spaced evenly on both sides of the drums. They were hung on flimsy PVC frames and it reminded me of the first banner stand I made for the Venomous Expo. In other words, CHEAP! The final touch to the stage was a large, black wooden box, placed in the middle. The lights dimmed and the crowd was suddenly a lot bigger than just a moment ago.

"Suicide Silence" erupted into an unintelligible, screaming rage that caused me to cringe. "I don't get it!", I screamed to Darlene (she reminded me later that our parents once said the same thing about the music we listened to growing up). If the guy was singing, I never understood one single word and I KNOW the Beatles never sounded this bad to my parents! As a matter of fact, all I heard the entire set was a high pitched scream that sounded like, "rah, rah, rah, rah, RAH!" Between the first and second song (I think!) the lead singer incited the crowd to "open this place the f*** up!" When he started screaming again, the place suddenly erupted into a huge mosh pit. Finally, something entertaining! I was amazed to see the kids, and I do mean kids, slamming one another to the ground. The person on the ground would get up, hug the person who knocked him or her down then the whole killing-one-another thing would start over again.

By the time the 3rd band, "Machine Head", did their set, the pit seemed to have become a bit more sophisticated. The circle pit, as the singer from Machine Head called it, began to rotate in a counter clock-wise movement. Then, as if someone dropped a flag to begin a drag race, the pit would erupt into a killing field. I zoned in on one person who constantly walked back and forth, seemingly untouched, as the people around him smashed their bodies against each other in total chaos. For some reason, I found myself thinking back to the scene in "Apocalypse Now" when Robert Duvall's character, Colonel Kilgore, walked along the beach unafraid and untouched as incoming rounds from Charlie hit the ground around him. My mind wandered further and suddenly, Kilgore was trying to get me in the pit.

Kilgore - You can either mosh or you can fight!

Me - Are you crazy? Don't you think it's a little crazy for some R&R?

Kilgore - If I say it's safe to mosh this pit, Sailor, then it's safe to mosh this pit! I mean, I'm not afraid to mosh this pit, I'll mosh this whole f****** place!

Me - I don't know sir, it's a..

Kilgore - What is it Sailor?

Me - Well, I mean, it's pretty hairy in there. It's Charlie's pit.

Kilgore - Charlie don't MOSH!

I know, it's a bit far-fetched but that's what actually went through my mind at the time. After all, the music was unintelligible and we were really never safe from getting punched anywhere we stood. As a matter of fact, during one of the sudden mosh outbreaks, I took either a fist or an elbow or maybe even a knee in my left rib cage before Darlene drug me to safety!

It was finally time for Megadeth to take the stage. We eased up as close as possible but once Dave Mustaine took center stage, the pushing began. We had positioned ourselves where we could make a quick exit so we dropped farther back and to the right of the stage where we stayed safe the rest of the evening.

I'll be the first to admit, I'm not a huge Megadeth fan and during their set, I recognized MAYBE four songs. But the recent addition of lead guitarist Chris Broderick made me pay close attention and I left the concert feeling glad we made the trip.

Dave Mustaine and Megadeth Rock Corpus

Gone But Not Forgotten

The streetlight outlined an unmistakable image as I left for work around 3:40 this morning. The mallard drake that adopted us to be with his new mate, lay dead in the street in front of our driveway.

This year was the first in the past three that our "pet" mallard hen brought a mate to our door. He had been by her side ever since. I cringe at the thought of how close she must have come to being hit too by the uncaring soul who took her mate's life. I thought about her all day, while at work, and worried that she might be injured somewhere. But, as I got home just now, I was greeted by a forelorned quack, as if she was trying to tell me her mate was gone. Darlene and I will repay the joy she has brought us with comfort now and we won't ever forget her handsome gentleman.

A Sprinkler Bath in Early April

My Dad Left Me a Present on His Birthday

Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday. You'd think each year would be easier but, since his passing in 1997, I still miss him as much as the day he died. It was his gentle and forgiving nature that I admired most. He chose to see only good in everyone he met.

I still have many regrets regarding my dad. For example, I regret not taking the time to let him teach me how to play the guitar. I remember my aunt telling me matter of factly, "you have the greatest teacher in the world and you need to take advantage of it". I never did. I was always too busy running through the woods that surrounded our house. But, he seemed to take some satisfaction of my interest in all things living and he never seemed to mind building yet another cage for whatever came out of the woods with me.

When the day came to make the now infamous choice for my Christmas present one year, I took a 20 gallon aquarium over a Hoffner bass guitar. I refer to that day as "my fork in the road". I went down the "nature" road and turned my back on the "learning to play the guitar" road. He never seemed to mind. I think that's why he dropped yet another present in my lap this morning on his birthday. What better way to let me know he's still not upset with the road I chose.


The Campbell Clan in December of 1957


Rescued From the Pool This Morning

Happy Birthday Papa! Thanks for the 'possum!

Happy Easter!

It's said that Easter eggs symbolize the renewal of life in spring. Easter came two days early for us this year and the eggs we received definitely fit that description.

Just outside our snake room window is our tortoise pen. It houses a pair of Venezuelan Redfoot tortoises that I bought from an online reptile friend several years ago. Other than local box "turtles" I kept as a kid, I had never kept tortoises but had always been intrigued by their personalities and relatively "easy to care for" husbandry.

After I got home from work Friday, I took time to do my regular rounds about the house. The routine consists of turning on lights, checking various cages and opening the blinds in the snake room. When I looked out into the redfoot pen, I noticed the female in an odd posture, making side to side movements. As I watched through the window, I realized she was digging a nest. I quickly grabbed my camera and headed outside. Sure enough, she had already dug a small hole and I could see the unmistakable shape and color of eggs.

Mama tortoise digging her nest.

A couple of eggs are barely visible.

The proud papa had to come see what I was doing!


Later that evening, I dug up the nest and found 9 perfect eggs.

This is our second clutch of eggs in less than 7 months. The first clutch of 3 eggs (one was punctured and had to be discarded) was laid September 24th of last year. After incubating 150 days, the first baby hatched February 22nd and it's sibling began hatching on April Fool's Day.


Baby number 1 after hatching 2/22/2009.


Baby number 2 still mostly in the egg on April 2nd.

The Easter Bunny was indeed good to us this year. Darlene and I wish you all a Happy Easter!

Merry Christmas!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Darlene and I wish each of you a Happy Thanksgiving!

Getting Acquainted

It's that time of year again! Each day, I check the breeding cages for newborn eyelash vipers. The first litter of the season was born this morning with mom here giving birth to even more after Darlene shot this video. As you can see, this vividly banded baby took the opportunity to hitch a ride on it's mother's head.

A Sad Goodbye

As Darlene mentioned in her blog, this past week we became emotionally attached to a crustacean, a beautiful Giant white land crab we dubbed "Ms Thing". We came upon her crossing Highway 4, near Boca Chica Beach, last Tuesday night during a light rain. Trying to catch her was no easy feat and I'm sure if Darlene had gotten it on video, we would have been hard pressed not to win the grand prize on America's Funniest Home Videos. Of course, I probably should have used something larger than a 16oz deli cup to subdue something that big. I was finally able to get her into the back of the Jeep but she decided to cram her body between the seat backs. I decided enough was enough and coaxed her into a 33 gallon garbage bag for the quick drive back home. I guess it's a good thing the agents at the Border Patrol checkpoint DIDN'T search the car. Imagine their surprise if they had grabbed the suspicious looking black plastic bag in the back of the car!

Wednesday morning was spent at the zoo where Darlene and Patty took LOADS of photos of this amazing animal, in the rain, no less. Brian and I became crab wranglers as they took photos of Ms Thing in the herpetarium's photo set.

Later that afternoon, after an emotional tug of war aimed at Ms Thing's safety, we drove back out to the salt flats to release her, where we found her the night before. Even as she walked towards the shallows, I felt a sense of sadness and worried that she was too visible from the road. We watched until she disappeared from view.

A Closing Shot as Ms Thing Returns to the Shallows

The Family That Photographs Together, Stays Together

Darlene has a saying, "the family that (whatever we're doing at the moment) together, stays together". That saying came to mind this past Friday when we struck out with cameras in hand with no real itinerary except to drive to Port Mansfield. We hadn't heard much about the town in the 3 weeks since Hurricane Dolly. Most of the damage occurred on South Padre Island from the wind and in other points in the Valley from the rain. We were eager to see if our favorite fishing village survived the storm. It was on this excursion that we began to hash out ideas for another web presence, one that would show others our hidden paradise here in deep south Texas. After spending the day taking photos together, we launched "Photo of the Day" that evening. We plan to alternate days, one day my photo, the next day Darlene's. We hope you'll enjoy our photos and the stories behind them.

Never Doubt the Purple Sage

Summer is flying by and I'm playing catch-up. It seems like summer just started and we're already going into August. June flew by because we kept Anevay. She attended Summer Safari Classes at the zoo where she learned about different classes of animals and their habitats. July has flown by because of the weather. It started off with a bang when 6.17 inches of rain officially fell in Brownsville during the first 8 days of the month. Some parts of the city received over 10 inches. We quickly returned to the hot, dry weather pattern we're accustomed to in Brownsville but the unusual rain event made everyone happy and made for great conversation.

Fast forward to the evening of July 16th. Darlene and I attend the Summer Social at the zoo. We enjoy a wonderful Cajun supper and casually chat with friends. As the event begins to wind down and folks begin to leave, we spot Carol, one of our favorite people in the world. Carol is a local artist, a noted naturalist and absolutely one of the nicest ladies I've ever met. We all chat about this and that before the conversation turns to the heavy rain event earlier in the month. At some point during the conversation, Carol nonchalantly says, "we'll have another heavy rain soon, the purple sage is blooming". I absorb the information but never follow through with any questions about how this weather proverb originated. However, during the next few days, everywhere I look, purple sage is blooming, including the one I have in a pot in our back yard.

Fast forward to July 20th. Darlene and I are in Hope to celebrate her mom's birthday. I'm gathering oak limbs to use in my eyelash viper cages when Darlene walks out and hands me my cell phone. The voice on the other end is Rob, our intern from work. He tells me about "Dolly" a storm that has quickly formed in the northwest Caribbean and is forecast to make landfall near the mouth of the Rio Grande River around Wednesday. We gather our belongings and around noon, begin the drive back to Brownsville.

Fast forward to Wednesday, July 23rd. Dolly, now a Category 2 hurricane, makes landfall just north of Brownsville. Her slow forward motion of 7 mph is our worst nightmare. Over 7 inches of rain falls in Brownsville (officially 7.02) while other parts of the county receive up to 18 inches. Most of the mid and lower Valley easily receive over 8 inches of rainfall. Even today, some areas are still under water.

Weather lore has been around forever. As a child, I clearly remember my father saying, "if the sun sets behind a bank of clouds on Sunday, it'll rain before Wednesday". More times than not, he was right. When I was in the Navy, it was common to hear, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morn, sailor take warn". I never quite figured that one out. If weather lore is to be believed, July is a good example of how Mother Nature can predict the weather and how we should look for the clues. I know from now on, I'll pay close attention to the purple sage!

My Lateralis Are Blue, But That's a GOOD THING!

Every once in a while, Lady Luck hits you right smack dab in the head with something that's just too good to be true. That was the case when, in June of 2006, I purchased a pair of newly imported, weeks-old Bothriechis lateralis, more commonly known as the Side-striped palm pitviper. From time to time, I had seen freshly imported adults for sale but, from bad past experiences with imported, wild-caught snakes, I never took the chance. Imported babies, on the other hand, were too tempting to pass up.

They arrived promptly in McAllen on Delta Airlines on June 26th at 12:52 pm. But, anyone who has ever shipped live snakes knows the nightmares that evolve during the process and this shipment was no different. Even before leaving Brownsville for the hour-long trek to McAllen, I had called Delta Cargo to make sure the snakes were en route. Yes, I was told, and the flight from Atlanta was on time. Upon arriving at the Delta Ticket Counter in McAllen, I was told no live animals were on the flight. Before I pitched too big of a fit, I asked them to check for a Delta Dash package. Yes, it was on board and the air bill number matched. I started to wonder exactly where they had put the box since "no live animals" were on the flight. Was it actually in the plane or stuffed in the non-pressurized luggage hold. Would the snakes even be alive?

Once the box was brought to the counter, I was asked to sign off on the air bill. By signing, you're giving your assurance that the contents are alive, undamaged or whatever the case may be. Since I didn't know where the box had been during the flight and the gentleman at the counter couldn't tell me, I refused. I then asked if I could open the box to check if the snakes were alive. "NOT IN THE TERMINAL", which was exactly the answer I expected. I quickly walked to the car and unscrewed each wood screw with my re-chargeable screwdriver. Upon removing the lid, two small brown heads looked curiously up at me from inside their individual deli cups.

In their native habitat of Costa Rica and Panama, lateralis (as they're known in the herp world) are typically emerald or bluish green. A very few prized specimens in private collections are brilliant turquoise blue. When I purchased mine, I had no way of knowing that with each shed of their skin, a special color would emerge. Lady Luck has indeed smacked me.

The typical color phase of the Bothriechis lateralis. This is one of our "normal" males.

After a few meals, the new babies pose for photos. This is the male.

This is the female.

Several months later, the female, in the middle of her color change.

The male showing off his adult colors this past Sunday evening.

The female with her black mask and smoking "gun-metal blue" color.

Recently, I've posted the female's photos on two different venomous snake forums so people around the world can see her special color. So far, no one has seen this color in an adult lateralis. Just how rare is she? That's the question I hope to soon answer.

What's That Smell?

Several times a year, Mother Nature plays a prank on me. The smell of rotting flesh sends me into a panic, making me wonder if someone has placed a sizable dead animal in our yard to make some kind of point. The classic "horse torso" scene from The Godfather usually comes to mind. I quickly come to my senses after I realize our Stapelia gigantea is blooming.

The Stapelia gigantea is 1 of around 90 species of succulents called Carrion Plants. This particular species is native to southern Africa but was given to us many years ago as a house warming gift by a fellow herper. Several times a year, and typically after a heavy rain, it produces huge buds and flowers, which measure 8 to 12 inches across. Each flower is 5-pointed. A number of common names have been derived from the star-like appearance such as Hairy starfish flower, Star cactus and Starfish cactus. The last two names are a bit misleading since it's not a cactus at all.

So why the odor? These flowers have evolved to produce properties that attract flies. As I mentioned earlier, the odor is strong and putrid, similar to decaying meat. The flies are lured to the flower and, in turn, pollinate neighboring flowers as they move on in their search for a host to lay their eggs. Personally, I like the good ole bumble-bee and simple wind pollination systems better but, you have to admit, the flower is something to behold.

The Stapelia gigantea, also known as the Zulu Giant, Carrion flower, Hairy starfish flower, Star cactus and Starfish cactus.

Surely, You've Made a Mistake!

I've always admired writers. I don't mean "bloggers" like myself who attempt to write. I mean real writers. People who are good enough to put words into meaning and can even make a living doing what they love. I envy such gifted souls. So what a surprise it was when Darlene showed me a "Google Alert" she received this morning that La Vibora had been given the Blogging With a Purpose award from a REAL writer, L.A. Mitchell. What? La Vibora has a purpose? Surely, she made a mistake!

OK, it probably helped that we had supper with her and her husband last Tuesday night in Port Isabel. You see, we've actually known them for some time but, like most people in today's rat race, we really haven't kept in touch that much for over 8 years. It's sad now that I think about it. We had such good times together back in the mid and late 90s before they left Brownsville for greener pastures. After all this time, it was a pleasure to catch up on their lives and family.

I know I'll have an even bigger complex about my writing now, knowing that a real writer is reading it. I encourage you to take time to visit L.A.'s website and be sure to spend time reading her blog. You'll recognize she has a gift for writing from the first sentence.

Like so many of her peers have stated, "one day I'll be able to say I knew her when".

The Aaron Catastrophe

Catastrophe - a violent and sudden change in a feature of the earth.

There was a violent and sudden change in my world last Saturday night. For weeks, no make that months, I had worked on a plan to make my life simpler. That all changed in the blink of an eye. From now on, the event will be referred to simply as the "Aaron Catastrophe".

The evening had been planned for weeks, and was even given a name, "The Probing Party". The name was tossed around and refined and became "Dinner and a Probing". It should have been quite simple really. Friends from the zoo, specifically the herpetarium, would arrive around 6:30 in the evening. We would socialize, look at snakes, have an informal meal then probe snakes. What had been an annual event, with mainly just Brian and myself, was expanded to include everyone from the "herp", as it's affectionately called. After dinner, the real business of probing (sexing) 76 baby snakes would get down to business. It never happened that way.

Two invitees to the event were late and, as it was discovered later, even had supper at a local restaurant. They weren't just a little late, they were 2 hours late! While we patiently waited, alcohol was introduced. As soon as the rum and coke started flowing, I knew the probing would never take place. You don't mix alcohol and venomous snakes, it's just not a good idea. But what happened next would take me a full 9 days to correct. Yes, I'm talking about the "Aaron Catastrophe".

Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows about my attention to detail. That attention really comes into play regarding the husbandry and care of my snakes. Over the years, a method has evolved that lets me give the greatest possible care in the limited amount of time I have during my work week. That same standard of care had come into play with last year's sizable amount of babies that needed to be fed on a regular schedule. So, to not totally overwhelm myself, I devised a plan where equal rows of babies would be fed on a certain day and, by keeping notes on an everyday wall calendar, I would have detailed records on when they fed, shed their skins, etc. Simple and efficient, correct? I thought so until the "Aaron Catastrophe". As soon as I heard "Aaron, Jim is going to be upset!", I knew there was a problem. I had NO idea how big the problem actually was...

The "Aaron Catastrophe". My neat, equal rows of babies (The Viper Bouquet) were now in shambles because Aaron was left unsupervised.

Nine days later, peace is restored to my universe. All babies have been fed and placed back in the proper order.

Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy

I'm not sure if all the country is privy to the Bud Light "Real Men of Genius" commercials. Each one-minute commercial pays mock tribute to some "unsung hero". A couple that stand out in my mind are "Mr Foot-long Hot Dog Inventor" and "Mr Really Bad Toupee Wearer". However, the most recent commercial that's making the airwaves here in deep south Texas is aimed right smack dab at us Native Texans. It's simply called "Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy".

Announcer: Today we salute you Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy.

Horrific singer: Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy!

Announcer: Men from lesser states might know their state's capital, but you? You know your state's bird, tree and even reptile.

Horrific singer: Love that horny toad!

OK, this is where I sort of got lost because I began going down the state's check list in my mind. State bird. Mockingbird. Check. State tree. Pecan. Check. State reptile. Horned LIZARD! Check.

The Texas horned lizard is the earliest reptile I remember seeing or catching as a child growing up in Bedford. They were always a welcome site in dad's garden and were quite abundant in the school yard of the Old Bedford School.

Even while living in Midland in the early 80's, it was not uncommon to find them in the alleys behind our house and on most farm roads going south out of the Midland/Odessa region. My daughter, Angela, will attest to this because I frequently made her jump out of the car to see if she could catch them. She was barely 5 years old at the time!

Because of habitat loss, the novelty pet trade and the spread of the imported fire ant, the Texas horned lizard's numbers have steadily declined over the years. They are now considered a threatened species across their range in Texas.

Since living in deep south Texas, I generally see one or two a year, mainly on the roads in Brooks, Jim Hogg, Starr and Zapata counties. It's still a treat to see one stand up as the car approaches, then dart across the road to safety. I still send my sightings to the Horned Lizard Conservation Society.

The names "horned frog","horned toad" and "horny toad" (re: Love that horny toad!) come from the round body and blunt nose which actually give it a toad or frog-like appearance. But this is no toad and it's sure not a frog! The most recent one I found was near Escobas, the most God-forsaken patch of earth I think I've ever seen. Survivorman couldn't survive in Escobas, much less a frog! We're talking Hell on Earth folks! But the hot, sandy habitat along with an abundance of harvester ant mounds (their preferred food), makes it an ideal location for the "horned toad".

Texas horned lizard photographed last year near Escobas.

By the way, I looked up "Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy" on the Internet. I'll pick it up from the Horrific Singer:

Love that horny toad!

Announcer: You display your pride with your Lone Star tattoo, "Native Texan" bumper sticker, and contempt for any state that doesn't start with "Tex" and end with "as".

Horrific Singer: That spells Texas!

Announcer: Sure, there are 49 other states in the Union, but they are smaller, wussier, and the people talk funny.

Horrific Singer: Yankee wussies!

Announcer: So crack open a nice cold Bud Light, oh lover of the Lone Star state. Because all that flag waving must have made you thirsty!

Horrific Singer: Mr. Way Too Proud of Texas Guy!

OK, guilty as charged.

Would Someone Tell These People it's Just a GAME!!!

An innocent lunch with a good friend has changed my simple life as I once knew it.

Darlene: Oh my GOD! Rambo just brought me a promise ring!

Her "Oh my GOD" rattles me from concentrating on the eyelash viper in front of me. I should be use to it by now. These outbursts have been going on pretty much daily and sometimes several times an evening since that fateful day when it was suggested that Darlene get "Nintendogs" to play on her Nintendo DS.

Don't let this cute face claim you as another victim!

It started with one dog, a boxer she named "Rambo". Of course, one dog wasn't enough and now there are three. Along with Rambo, she "owns" a Dalmation named "Cookie" and a Beagle named "Cartman".

Darlene: Cookie has already won 1st place in the beginner level obedience trails.

Me: Blank stare while hoping someone will pass me a can of gasoline and a match.

If that's not bad enough, now there's a "several times a day" e-mail thread that's passed between Darlene, our GOOD FRIEND who started all of this and now, another good friend who folded to the temptation of owning a "dog". Of course, I endure the misery because I'm ALWAYS cc'd on the e-mails. Example:

1st Friend: Daisy (Golden Retriever) will be participating in the Championship disc toss today. Wish her luck. Maximus will be in the championship agility trial. Wish him luck. Crazy (Siberian Husky) still insists on not lying down. Maybe she really is crazy. Jim, why are you resisting? :)

2nd Friend: Mitzy's update:2 championships for obedience and disc, beginner of course. she's learning tricks quickly too, but the training "mic" doesn't come up sometimes when I want to teach her what she just did, frustrated with that.- got my first stick (umm, yea?)

Darlene's response is TOO LONG to post here but she congratulates both friends on their "dogs' " accomplishments and gives any "doggie" updates that have happened in the FEW minutes since the last e-mail.

Me: Delete, delete, delete.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy Darlene is having fun and corresponding more with our friends but this is one of those interactive games where one actually talks to the "dog". OK, now she's got me doing it...talks to the GAME! Our African grey is already mimicking Rambo's bark. It's only a matter of time until he mimics Darlene, saying "sit", "roll-over", "spin", "paw" and my new favorite, "hiney".

Can someone pass me a match?!

The Viper Bouquet

I'll be the first to admit I have a problem. When it comes to lines, they have to be straight. I still press my pants, including shorts, with military creases. My shirt sleeves, long or short, have to be creased right down the middle. Pictures are constantly straightened about the house and in the workplace. I feel sure it goes back to Boot Camp. I learned how to properly fold socks, shirts and pants quickly after finding the entire contents of my locker on the floor a couple of times. Bed sheets and blankets had to be "line tight" with "hospital corners". I just can't get beyond it, to this day. So when Darlene commented on my last post that I had created a "bouquet of vipers" in the kitchen, she wasn't kidding in the least. The remaining 76 eyelash vipers and bush vipers born late last year are all positioned in perfect order in one corner of the kitchen.

The "viper bouquet". Each baby is housed in 16oz. clear, pre-punched (air holes) deli cups purchased from superiorenterprise.com

Each deli cup is labled, identifying the birth mother and date of birth.

A 2oz. "portion cup" is used for a water bowl and to help maintain humidity. Paper towel pieces are used for substrate. Here, a 5 month old baby eyelash viper perches on the edge of the portion cup.

Now each of you should be able to create your own lovely viper bouquet. Granted, you'll need a very tolerant and understanding mate like Darlene, who doesn't mind venomous snakes in the kitchen. Oh, just one more thing, inscribed wine glasses are optional.