You know that saying, Desperate times call for desperate measures? Yeah: it explains why I bought this getup.
Good thing I don’t give a lick about fashion, huh? I look like a dork. But last weekend, when I was working in the yard, the damn mosquitoes were as relentless as ever, constantly swarming me. They kept breaching the Deep Woods OFF! perimeter and biting me, particularly on my face, where I hadn’t applied the stuff quite so liberally. Call me crazy, but I’m a little hesitant to smother my cheeks with DEET.
“You have such a nice yard,” my dad said later in a phone call. “It’s a shame you can’t enjoy it.”
That comment sparked something in me: righteous indignation. I’ll be damned if I let those pesky little buggers keep me from enjoying my property!, I vowed. And just like that, the fighting spirit was unleashed. It’s ridiculous how bad the mosquitoes are around here. I was out there picking raspberries a few days ago, dressed in long pants and a hoodie despite the heat and humidity, but I still ended up with a round of fresh bites, ’cause they zeroed in on the few areas of exposed flesh I hadn’t covered–my hands and face. This is exasperating, to say the least. Not to mention itchy. Short of a full suit of body armor (not gonna lie, that would be pretty badass), what’s a fella to do?
Well, this fella moseyed on over to Amazon, searched for “mosquito netting clothes,” and loaded his cart with a zippered mosquito jacket and two-pack of mosquito head nets (’cause Tara needs protection, too.) I drew the line at the mosquito pants, though.
SUCK IT, BLOODSUCKERS!
Err…don’t suck it, technically.
If this doesn’t stop ’em, nothing will. I swear, it’s like wearing a chastity belt, ’cause I don’t want them to f@ck with me. But hey, at least it’s breathable.
On the plus side, now I can pursue a career as a beekeeper, if I’m so inclined.
Holmes, you did not read it was a can of dog food
Tara is back from her trip to Nevada. I picked her up from the airport on Monday afternoon, and we’ve been settling back into a normal routine. This being the second week of July, “normal routine” = the Jefferson County Fair. Y’know, the place where I was supposed to vie for a blue ribbon in photography but forgot to read the fine print, and therefore missed the submission deadline.
I’m still salty about that.
We may not have been competitors this year, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t be attendees. Yesterday evening, we attended. And had the typical good time doing the typical county fair things: watching a tractor pull, wandering the midway, looking at livestock, eating food, catching some macho types trying to hang onto a bucking bull for eight seconds. Tara mentioned there were an awful lot of young women sporting visible tan lines and I pretended I hadn’t noticed.
Before leaving, we made it a point to check out the exhibit hall. I wanted to get an idea of how my photo would have fared in the competition. And while there were some good entrants in the Open Sunrise/Sunset category, Tara believes I would have won. I’ll err on the side of modesty and say I might’ve given the others a run for their money, but leave it at that.
We’ll just see how I “fair” next year.
Walking to the car on the way out, Tara felt an insect brush against her leg, so she swatted it, assuming it was a mosquito. We were both horrified to see she had killed a perfectly innocent lightning bug instead. It tumbled to the ground, its glowing light dimming until it faded away to nothing, and it was just the most heart-wrenching feeling ever.
Funny how you can hate one type of bug with a passion, and feel genuine soul-crushing remorse over the loss of a different kind.
Driving home, we were blasting old school rap. I was shocked that Tara knew all the words to Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Posse on Broadway.” Tara was shocked that I knew all the words to Run-D.M.C.’s “You Be Illin’.” What can I say? We never listen to that genre of music.
Back in town, we grabbed ice cream cones from Frostie Freeze, one last delicious stop before we got home. The perfect finale to a great summer evening.
And I didn’t get a single mosquito bite, even without the protection of a dorky mesh jacket and hat, so that’s a bonus.
Mark My Words 
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