Wasps...

...and I don't mean the Upper East Side kind. No, I mean the icky, nasty, buzzing, stinging, egg-laying kind. The kind that has decided to build a nest on my front overhang. Ebbie was fREAking out at the front door when I got back from up north and when I went to check it out I saw it: a papery oval hanging over my steps.

I had to bide my time until sunset to shoot those mother truckers with my Hot Shot wasp and bee killer (Up To A 27 Foot Jet Spray!) but I doused 'em good. Ebs and I stood inside the screen door after my covert assassination mission (of course I wore several layers of gear) and watched as a few wasps returned to the hive, landed, and immediately keeled over. They gave me the heeBEEjeeBEEs (get it? bees? yeah...) and all night I had creepy dreams about the eggs hatching and crawling through mysterious cracks in my house to get me.

They should all be dead by this morning but I left a note for the mailman, just in case.

Scamp

Ebbie is a scamp. See below.

"Crap. I knew my plastic bag fetish would land me here eventually. I'm so ashamed..."

"Don't make me get down! There are a full two inches here for me to be standing on and it isn't like this TV cost much or anything, right?"

"I thought I told you to change the station. Must I do everything myself? [Sigh.]"

"I'm cute. Love me."

Sweet, sweet music

"I'm going to the mall this weekend. I need some retail therapy."
"Nice, I can't. I have to save my money. I'm buying a piano this weekend."
"What? I was thinking a cute top, not a musical instrument that doubles as a piece of furniture!"

For hours Saturday afternoon I visited old pieces of music that hadn't been played in years. The cat watched from the top of the corner built in cabinets, confused by the new sounds bouncing around the living room.
Sunday I told myself I couldn't play until all of the leaves were cleared from the yard. Fifteen trash bags later, which is an impressive number considering I don't actually have any trees in my yard, I started picking up my tools with one thing on my mind: the piano. With my fingers distracted by Pachelbel's cords I didn't even notice when they closed around the bee sunning itself on the roll of leftover bags. I did notice when the little bugger, excuse the pun, stung me right in the middle of my palm. I yelped, Ebbie came running, and the bee flopped death flops on the floor.
My first bee sting. Mom told me to use baking soda, Google said toothpaste, and John the paramedic swore by meat tenderizer. The only thing that worked was ice. Of course, my makeshift icepack, aka a plastic baggie with ice cubes in it, burst in the middle of the night and I woke up in a puddle. Yesterday was no better but today, today I think I might be able to practice again. I hope. Stupid bees.

Kitty Alarm

3:07am
Cat walks across human's face.
Human pushes cat away.
3:12am
Cat puts cold nose on human's forehead.
Human pushes cat away (tiny expletive sneaks out).
3:43am
Cat starts knocking anything not nailed down off of dressers onto floor.
Human turns on light and gives evil glare.
Cat responds with profound purring all over human's face.
3:45am
Human gets up, pours fresh food and water for cat.
Cat ignores both.
3:50am
Human puts hand on bed to crawl back in and feels ickiness.
Cat had puked in human's warm bed spot.
3:55am
Human strips bed, gives pukey cat plenty of attention, and tries to go back to sleep.
4:30am
Cat walks across human's face.
Human pushes cat away...
...and so it goes, until human's actual alarm goes off at 6:30.

This comic, courtesy of Mentor Pam, gives you a visual, in case you were having a hard time picturing these early morning happenings at The Stanford House.

A Special Day

I've never gotten an anniversary card. Not for anything. Until today. I opened my mail and there it was, lovely heavy cream paper with a pale blue pattern and classic print across the front that said,

Happy Anniversary from Quest

Apparently it is my one year anniversary of having Quest service and they felt it appropriate to send me a card. One cool thing is that if it is my one year anniversary of having phone service, it is also the one year anniversary of buying The Stanford House!





















Which means it is also the one year anniversary of the roof of The Stanford House roof blowing off in a storm.

















A year and one month ago I got my new car, too!

















One year and one month ago on that very same day my new car got hailed on.













I think maybe the reason I've never gotten an anniversary card is because they don't make the kinds I would need to commemorate my special days.

Battles lost: Sprinkler and Mouse

Sprinkler
Last night, despite the dewpoint of 70, I decided my lawn was past due for a trim. Out came my Toro mower, Toro electric trimmer, and Toro electric blower. After finishing up with all of those toys I decided to tackle the Toro sprinkler timer on front hose. (Sidenote: I am quite pleased with my free hose. It was left behind by the former owners along with crusty grape jelly in the fridge, 1950's shoe polish under the kitchen sink, and a broken yellowed washing machine in the garage. Oh well, free is free, right?) Part of the grass on the slope down to the front sidewalk wasn't getting any water so I had to adjust nobs, settings, and levels to compensate. Twenty minutes later, soaked from head to toe and with bloody knuckles, I decided the score was sprinkler: 1 me: 0.
Mouse
Today I told Dan that I got a new mouse for my computer and he was impressed that all you have to say to IT here is, "I need a new mouse. Cordless." and they give it to you. I also told him you don't even have to tell them that the reason you don't like your mouse is because your stilletos keep getting caught in the cord when you spin around too fast to say hi to someone which results in you almost falling off of your chair about...20 times a day.

Peony syrup?

Well, you learn something new every day and yesterday I learned that peonies produce a sappy nectar, kind of like maple trees. I wonder if peony syrup will be the next big thing? The ants seem to love it.
This bud has been hanging out on my desk for a few weeks, sapping away.

Spring at the Stanford house was very exciting this year. Since I had never been there for that season I had no idea what would sprout and bloom, when and where. Turns out my peonies are white, I have a tiny bleeding heart plant, and a hillside of lillies of the valley. Who knew?

Bad luck?

How much bad luck is it when one's black cat spills salt all over the kitchen table?


"What, me?" -Ebbie

p.s. I got a new camera...This means more "illustrated" posts. Whoot whoot!