More Cowbell

Cat and Kid love baby food.

These pictures ought to give Grandpa Dennis a heart attack. GG and Lundy both enjoying meat sticks.

11 months old.

GG turns 11 months old today, so here are some recent pictures.



Naarah's friend Jenny got this car for GG a couple of weeks ago. She loves it. When you put her in it, she goes vrooooooom, vrooooom. As you wheel her around, she loves to wave to everyone. Just like the Pope!



GG taking a bath.



GG getting caught trying to call Elmo.



GG sipping some juice.



Daddy Out!

Don't F with Hornets

Bruce Lee was one tough son of a gun and he got his start in ShowBiz as the 60's TV super hero sidekick The Green Hornet. One of the most unbelievable episodes of the campy Batman television show pitted Robin the "Boy Wonder" against The Green Hornet. The casting director expected us to "suspend belief" as Robin played by shrimpy Burt Ward beats the heck out of The Green Hornet played by Bruce Lee. Come on... Bruce Lee's Pee is tougher than Burt Ward. In real life, Bruce Lee would have touched Burt Ward with his pinky and Burt would have crapped himself and broken into a thousand pieces.

This past summer I learned to respect the power of the Hornet. The summer of 2006 will always be know to me as the Summer of Hornets. It started innocently enough last June, with my attempt to rebuild a retaining wall that had partially collapsed due to last winter's rains. I was moving cement blocks when all of a sudden, I felt a hot searing pain near my right elbow. When I looked down, I noticed a rather large hornet attached to my arm. I smashed him between my fingers and started to panic.

Little know fact: I'm allergic to bee stings. Yep, just like Macaulay Culkin in "My Girl", one sting from a bee and I'm pushing up daisies.

After getting attacked by one hornet, his buddies began to swarm me and sting my precious calves. By the time I got inside, my wounds were beginning to swell, and I told the wife that she might have to take me to the hospital. I didn't die, so I learned that I'm not also allergic to hornets. My wounds continued to swell over the next few days and I itched like hell.

I took me a few weeks to psychologically recover from my first battle with the hornets but I vowed to exact my revenge.

The next incident in my Summer of Hornets started with me purchasing two cans of Hornet spray. I pinpointed the area of the retaining wall where the Hornets seemed to be hanging out and doused the entire area. I then returned to working on tearing my retaining wall down. After about 45 minutes of work, I got to the area that I sprayed down with the Hornet killer and with a shovel tipped over the top block in the retaining wall. As the block slowly cascaded off of the retaining wall, I saw the nest tucked under the cement block. The only thought that passed through my mind was "I'm F'ed". This thought was quickly replaced by second half of the fight or flight response as hundreds of hornets streamed out of their lair and started biting me.

I made it back into my house in under five seconds, caught my breath and began to survey the damage. As I looked into the mirror, I discovered about 50 hornets on my back. This triggered a second fight or flight response and flight won again. I began to tear off my clothes and ran for the bedroom. I could hear the little bastards buzzing around in the house. These things were super hornets, because later in the day when I gathered up my hornet infested clothes and threw them in the wash, they not only survived a full wash cycle, but they broke my washing machine.

A couple of weeks later, my father in law showed up, and I being the smart guy that I am, asked him to get rid of the little bastards. We suited Dennis up in my ski gear, snow pants, hat, big coat, scarf, etc. He was armed with two bottle of hornet/wasp killer, and went out to do battle. Dennis had so much clothing on, that he looked like the little brother from "A Christmas Story". Naarah, GG, and I watched him squirt the cinder block the nest was built into with the wasp killer. The little bastards were buzzing and dive bombing him pretty good.

When Dennis flipped the cinder block over to get a better shot at the hornet's lair, I thought he was a goner. Hornets stormed out and he made a hasty retreat to my garage. Dennis decided to change his tactics and brought out the big guns, lighter fluid and matches. Five minutes later, all that was left was hundreds of charred hornets. If life was fair, this would be the end of the post, but alas, life's not fair.

A few weeks later, I managed to find a couple of free hours on a Saturday, and decided to clean up the yard and mow the law. I mowed the front and started for the back. Everything was fine, until while I was walking backward, I stepped in a small depression in the ground. I looked down, and my left foot was smack dab in the middle of a hornet's nest. Hornets were buzzing and streaming out of the nest. Before I knew what the heck was going on, there was a searing pain in my ass. If you made it this far through this post, here is your sweet, sweet reward. The money shot: