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When the type A ant removed the tiny grasshopper shaped stick from her ass

Once upon a time, in a magical and beautiful land called the Pacific Northwest, there lived an albino ant who was a very skilled at putting away food.

This ant was not worried about winter, for in the wondrous world of Washington State, many things grow all year long.  Fish and seafood are abundant, and there is kale as far as the eye can see.

No my friends, this ant was more concerned about zombies.  Big, brain eating zombies.

And so this ant canned, dried, froze, and fermented all summer long, until she was falling down exhausted.  She harassed her neighbors asking to pick their unwanted produce, she “urban harvested” the unofficial weed of Washington State (blackberries), and took her darling antling (let’s pretend that’s a thing) along with her.  She once canned and canned and canned, and kept track of all her canning one year, and found she had canned about $650 worth of stuff.  While working full-time.

That ant was tired!

Then the big 2014 harvest happened, and the ant found herself in a really weird predicament.  The summer was very nice (second hottest on record) and her garden was exploding.  The ant was harvesting produce in July and early August, that usually wasn’t ripe until September or early October.  The ant was traveling, working, busy, and taking care of ant parents.  After a late night of trying to do it all, the ant clutched her pearls, ripped off her apron, and in a tiny ant voice, yelled “FUCK IT”.

And the ant was free.  A huge burden had been lifted from her ant shoulders.

Suddenly, without the pressure of trying to (pressure) can, ferment, and dry everything in site, the ant was enjoying her summer.  She completely missed blackberry season (a cardinal sin in the ant’s view), went on a three day trip to the ocean, and basically calmed the hell down.

Feeling like a naughty ant, she began giving away the excess produce to coworkers, neighbors, people at church, and random strangers walking up her hill.  The ant wouldn’t let anyone come over to her house without taking away a bag of organic tomatoes, green beans, and a small pumpkin or two.  The ant was no fool though; all fruit was kept close to the ant hill because her antling would cut a bitch before he shared blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries.

An act that started out of desperation (being overwhelmed by produce), became the ant’s favorite way to connect with people. “You look sad” she’d say, “have some tomatoes”.  “You’re sick and can’t work and have to take care of your child you wonderful single dad”?  Please take these eggs, salsa, tomatoes, and soup”.  “Hey church people, you like Jesus?  Guess what?  Jesus loved tomatoes.  Take this whole bag, or else you love the devil”.

The ant once had a guest pastor that said something along the lines of “we don’t make an impact by what we leave behind, but by what we give away”.

The ant looked around at the nearly empty shelves and freezer, then at the happy neighbors, family, and new friends, and she knew it was true.

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16 comments on “When the type A ant removed the tiny grasshopper shaped stick from her ass”

  1. Well that ant is just the shit! Wish I had a badass ant neighbor. Mine just steal our rhubarb. 🙁

  2. I did this two years ago when I gave up my community garden plot. Something had to give and since my kids won’t eat store bought jam it couldn’t be canning. I am content to can what I buy at the farmers market and several summer trips to Yakima. I give away tons of what I can and will go back to growing when life slows down some…

  3. All hail the Ant! Such a smart thing to do. I really hope the ant can find some rest now as she really needs it.
    Big antsy hug to you!

  4. That is one awesome ant!

  5. Best ant ever!!

  6. Oh girlie…..thanks so much for the smile! Oh, and the ear worm that is now playing the following tune in my head.

    Ahem…with a little help from Ol’ Blue Eyes:

    Just what makes that little old ant (rather, young Twiggy albino ant)
    Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant (or back away from the canning supplies)
    Anyone knows an ant, can’t (or won’t)
    Move a rubber tree plant (see above)

    But he’s got high hopes (really high hopes!)
    He’s got high hopes (again, see above)
    He’s got high apple pie (because she kept those for her antling)
    In the sky hopes

    So any time your gettin’ low
    ‘Stead of lettin’ go (or in this case, holding on)
    Just remember that ant
    Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant (yep, she walked away)
    Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant (like a boss, bitches)
    Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant (The End)

  7. From one ant to another, congratulations on seeing the light.

  8. Love it!!! I am the one feeling totally guilty about not doing all those things and hoping that someone else will do it for me 🙂 I wish that I lived closer cause it could use some produce. I love that you became a produce pusher!!! Thanks for the morning smile.

  9. You KNOW how much I love you!!! Good Girl! You are amazing!

  10. Then the ant and her antling lived happily ever after…till next summer…

    Gardening and harvesting is supposed to a pleasure… And you turned it into pleasure when you admitted to yourself you couldn’t do it all and passed your treasure forward. You will reap what you sow…just differently! Good for you Sarah!

  11. That’s right- do what makes you happy, drop whatever stresses you out. I wish I lived closer, because homegrown tomatoes definitely cure my blues 😀
    BTW, I hope Brenda has a blog, because she’s frigging hilarious!

  12. Such a good story, way better than the original :0)

    Congrats on being able to let go a little and enjoy the summer!

  13. Hoorah for the ant!