I am moot-moot bait

We have a love-hate relationship, moot-moots and me. They love me; I hate them. The irritating thing about them is that you can neither see them nor feel them bite, so by the time you realize they've eaten you alive it's far too late to do anything about it.

I don't know whether it's due to incomplete repellent application, ineffective repellent, the result of rain washing away the repellent, or the fact that moot-moots are completely taken in by my fresh blood, but they feast on me. I counted at least 35 pink spots upon returning from a morning cocoa breaking.

The mosquitoes so far are a non-issue. Coming from Manitoba, I scoff at the one or two sluggish mosquitoes I've seen lazily buzzing around. The mosquitoes I know do not allow you to snatch them out of the air one-handed to kill them. But, given that mosquitoes here carry deadly diseases whereas the ones at home merely make you itch, I guess I should be only to grateful they are so wimpy.

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My favourite nativity scene

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Broken people...

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