Yesterday morning we met some friends in Chinatown for dim sum, after which we planned to head up to Maine to get in one last end-of-summer day at the shore. Despite the fact that Claire has never seen (much less been bitten by) a deer fly, she spent much of the morning obsessing over whether these vicious creatures would be present at the beach. And, in a bizarre twist, our early-morning trip to Chinatown actually exacerbated her anxiety about the deer flies. Hanging above our restaurant table was a large photo showing a sort of tropical scene, with a waterfall spilling down into a bright blue lagoon. Claire looked at the picture and immediately announced, with some alarm, that it depicted what could only be described as "a perfect habitat for deer flies." Our attempts to get to the bottom of the deer fly paranoia led to the following conversation:
Claire: "Are there deer flies at Ogunquit Beach?"
Don: "I don't think there will be."
Claire: "I'm really worried about deer flies."
Don: "Why?"
Claire: "Because they use razor sharp teeth to cut into the skin, then they use a sponge-like "mop" to suck blood from their victims."
Don: "Ah."
Claire (pausing): "How big are deer flies, anyway?"
I can only conclude that Claire was worried about some dog-sized creatures with razor-sharp teeth and blood-sucking "mops" chasing our entire family around the beach, puncturing our flesh, and draining our blood. So I'm sure you will be relieved to learn that all five of us managed to escape that dire fate. In fact, we didn't see a single deer fly -- regular- or dog-sized.
