Bzzzzz

Tired, very tired. I'd hit the sheets, but just going to the grocery store at 9:30pm in this heat made me sweaty enough that I've been gulping down water. Not wise to go to bed so soon after drinking so much, right?

Today went well enough. Rented a pressure washer to clean up from last week's painting debacle, and it worked well and got most of the paint up. That was fun.

We have wasp problems in the summer around here, and I've been going through can after can of wasp spray. I guess the pressure washer pissed one off, and he was hovering in my face for a minute. I stepped back, and once he floated back and gave me enough room to aim the spray gun--BOOM! 2400 psi, bug man. Say hi to your 4,322 dead bug buddies I've laid to waste this summer.

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Kelli and I took this camping trip many years ago. Can't recall where... Lost Maples maybe? Nice enough place. We set up a tent and went out for an "easy day hike," according to our trail guidebook.

It was NOT easy, let me tell you. At one point we were on our hands and knees climbing up the side of this big hill, scraping ourselves on rocks and getting filthy, wearing ourselves out. If I saw the author of that book tomorrow I'd kick him in the jibblies.

So we returned to our campsite and discovered that the little shelter, under which was a picnic bench, was just crawling with wasps. Not sure if they'd been there before and we missed them or if this was something sudden. But there were way too many for our comfort. What to do, what to do?

Kelli zipped herself into the tent, and I put on my hooded sweatshirt. I rolled up a newspaper and decided I'd eliminate the wasps one by one.

I've since seen some nature show that explained that when a wasp or bee is killed, it gives off a pheromone that gives an "attack" signal to the others.

So the scene played out like this:

I'd creep up to the wasps looking like Kenny from South Park and smack at a wasp, maybe hitting him, maybe not.

The wasps would start buzzing around like mad, and I'd run laps across the campground until they calmed down.

I did this over and over, and all Kelli could see through the narrow tent opening was me hauling ass after every WHAP. Once I was running backwards and tripped over the campfire, which luckily wasn't burning at the time.

Finally one of the little bastards got into the back of my sweatshirt, right on my neck. In one motion I grabbed him through the cloth, pulled off the sweatshirt and threw it to the ground. I dove into the tent with Kelli and we decided to formulate plan B.

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Plan B, as it turned out, was to leave for lunch and stop at the park office to ask that they send someone out with a can of bug spray while we were gone. So we had lunch in scenic Bandera, Texas at a Dairy Queen if I recall. When we returned the wasps were gone and the rest of the trip went just fine.

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Amazingly I have never been stung by a wasp. Couple bees here and there, lots of ants, and maybe some spider bites. I was hauling junk out of the back yard a couple weeks ago and something bit me on the shoulder. It only recently stopped itching.

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I've been bitten by just about every breed of dog out there though. I do believe I'm about done with dogs.

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Tomorrow is July 4, and I hope we have a good day. Got some odds and ends to do around the house, and tomorrow night the boy will get to see fireworks.

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Take care, and boogie on with your bad selves.