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  • I'm back in Roswell, NM to be with my mom, who's recovering from major surgery in a nursing home here.

    I'm beginning to hate this town. It makes me feel like a local.

    Still, nothing can top last Sunday. That's when the grasshoppers invaded. They had some green on them, but not the green-skinned faces of the space aliens painted on practically every building in town.

    When I opened the curtains last weekend, I saw something flying in the air. Not birds, not flying saucers. Droves of grasshoppers.

    I looked at the wall next to the window. It was chock-full of large bugs. A couple of them landed with a smack on the window.

    I went downstairs to the lobby, which had previously been quite tidy. Grasshoppers were popping around the floor, on the sofa, hanging out on the end tables. They made themselves right at home ...

    I stepped outside with a mix of curiosity and revulsion. It was like walking onto the set of a horror movie. They were literally everywhere. You couldn't walk without taking a few out with a sickening crunch. They bounced off and on my clothes. One got really fresh and kissed me on the mouth. Luckily, I kept my mouth closed.

    Roswell is known for their flies and their aliens, but grasshoppers?

    I looked it up online once I was able to escape the grasshopper horde. It appears to be a gift from Texas. Gee thanks.

    When I opened my curtains this Sunday morning, I prepared myself for another plague of Biblical proportions. But all is quiet again in Roswell.
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