Dear Friends
 
Here in NH we have stupid crickets.  they walk into my old farm house on
their own.  The reception crew is waiting, the two cats, three dogs, and
four ferrets.  Never say we New Englanders lack hospitality.
 
No one eats them except the cats, and only after they play with them.
They scurry under something and chirp for days, they keep everyone
entertained for hours, I can't access the fridge, stove, or sink, because
someone is in front of it, so unless I get a cooperative cricket, uh huh.
 
The word from the floor is, to much shell, not enough juice, and their
knees get stuck in your teeth.  My gang hates to floss.
 
Marilyn and the gang at Ledoux Hospice
[Posted in FML issue 4898]