Bees and Neighbors

It is quite difficult to find the motivation to blog when things are so completely uneventful. There are days when I could write a novel about the drama that is my life, then there are days when all I have to say is feh. This is one of those days. The most exciting thing about this weekend so far is that I had my last scrapbooking workshop for a while. We had pizza and mudslides (Mmmm.) and got drunk on the mudslides. We got nothing accomplished; it was basically just a bunch of women sitting around drinking and bitching with pictures laid out in front of them. The dogs have been romping in the grass with all the sunny weather, but we have a major wasp problem this year, so mostly I run in and out of the house making sure the dogs don't get stung. There is much yelling, "Stop eating grass, there could be a bee in there! Stop rolling, there might be a bee under you! Get away from the bees!" I guess you could say I'm a little overprotective. I, myself, am terrified of bees. I am very allergic to them, and of course have never purchased a bee kit. My husband calls me "Dances with Bees".

Speaking of yelling, I just thought of something funny. My beloved neighbors (huh.) have decided to build a gigantic monstrosity in their backyard, probably specifically to annoy me. It is this big cedar swing set/playset for their little beasts. I found out that the wife (who I refer to as Skeletor because she looks just like him. Can you say ugly skinny?) is thinking of starting a daycare at her home. Apparently, God hates me. Can you imagine CrazyDogMama living next to a frigging daycare? Help me now. Anyways, the other day Skeletor and some other stupid woman had 5 kids back there playing and I, of course, was yelling at the dogs to watch out for bees. I said something like "Get your fuzzy little asses in here!" Two kids started crying, and the other three looked at me like they were "Godsend" children. The two adults glared. I hope they all get stung. Here is a picture of the damn thing: