Pants on the Ground

One million mosquitos are calling our back yard home. All that work on the yard and we can't even enjoy it... yet. My neighbors are hoarders. Officially. I got the scoop from my friendly neighbor. She's been here forever and gave me the low down. Or is it down low? I can't remember. Anyhoos. I told her we were thinking about calling the city on them to have it cleaned up and she said it wouldn't do much good. They would come out and clean it up and in a few weeks it would pile up again. She's called the city on them several times. Wonderful. K usually waters our -new- grass 2ce a day and yesterday he came in with 27 mosquito bites. Just from moving the sprinklers around. Oh. My. Swine Flu. {I realized when I typed that that it wasn't right. Swine flu is birds, right? How do mosquitos kill you, again? West Nile. That's right.}  So. I had to water the grass today.  It was about 100 degrees and I wore jeans and a sweatshirt just so I wouldn't get bitten. Then what happens. I get bitten all over my face. Of course. And then a storm came through and gave us a good rain. So I shouldn't have watered anyway. Boo hiss.

I'll work on getting a great shot of the neighbor's back yard for ya'll. It is intense.

Don't forget this Sunday is Father's Day. It's Kraig's first one and I think he is really going to like his presents. If he doesn't, oh well. I tried. Do you agree that men are the hardest to buy for? There's certain kinds of tools you gotta get, you can't just go pick one up that's heavy and costs a lot.  And certain things they already had that you never knew so you bought them 2, and so darn picky about clothes. Or maybe that's just K. I suppose I could go to the closest thrift store and pick him up a few new flannels and a couple of good vintage records and he would be completely satisfied. But I didn't. So I am rolling the dice that I got this one right.

Can't leave a blog without a picture of the wee one, I know.

Notice anything? Other than she's growing up too fast? Yeah. We are having a no-pants kind of week around here. For babies only. 

Until Next Time, 

The Guff