I’ve been pretty absent this week but between trips back and forth to the hospital and life changes, I haven’t had the time to breathe!
I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, I’m hoping that next week will be back to normal and I can get back into the blogging routine.
I did manage to find time yesterday to mow my yard. My poor yard, it has a tendency of getting away from me from time to time. Really just because i have no time to mow do anything, I leave before the sun comes up in the morning and I’m home after the sun has gone down. Something tells me that my neighbors wouldn’t appreciate 4am wake up calls from the lawn mower.
Anyways, back to the story, I was mowing the yard yesterday, minding my own business and that’s when they attacked…..FIRE ANTS!
I have a history with these little buggers and a story that is one of those that my mom always makes sure to tell my friends when she meets them for the first time. It’s not her favorite, that would be the story about the two pet ducks I got for Easter one year; I tried to kill both of them. Not my fault,honest! I was simply trying to teach them how to swim…how was I to know they already knew how?
Anyways, where I grew up, we didn’t have fire ants we had big fat red ants and what my mom referred to as sugar ants. To this day I don’t know if that’s what they are really called but they are about the same size as fire ants only, they don’t bite. I’ve mentioned this before but I was quite the tom-boy growing up and one thing that I enjoyed was playing with these ants. I would sit right out in the middle of an ant bed and let them crawl over me. (Not once have I claimed I was a very sharp kid growing up.)
When we moved from west Texas to the DFW metroplex, I found that the house we moved into also had these friendly little sugar ants. Or so I thought.
I had grown out of the habit to purposely let the ants crawl all over me however, one day when I stepped in an ant bed and the little things started swarming me I thought it odd but I didn’t let it bug me too much, until the pain came. You should have seen me jumping and dancing and screaming and squalling. You would have thought I was practicing for some up coming episode of “So You Think You Can (Rain) Dance”.
I learned quickly that the ants in north Texas aren’t nearly as friendly as the ones in west Texas.
Yesterday was a different scenario though. I’m well aware that I have fire ants in my yard and I’m pretty good at avoiding them, so I thought. The only thing that I can figure out that happened was that I ran over a mound without realizing it, sending ants flying through the air in all directions which ultimately resulted in them being scattered all over my body. Before the incident was over, I looked like I had been the victim of a roadside bombing, covered in shrapnel.
Yesterday, I truly learned the meaning of the old saying “Ants in the pants.”
And why does this stuff always happen when people are around? The neighbor lady across the street and two houses down just HAD to pick that time of the day to walk her dog. The next door neighbor just HAD to pick that time of day to go check her mail. The girl across the street just HAD to have a cigarette at that moment.
These three lucky ladies were absolutely awarded with a show yesterday. I danced, I pranced, I kicked, I flicked, I used parts of my body I never knew existed. I jumped up and down to shake the critters free from my pants legs, I swatted my body parts and clawed at the bites. It was truly a sight to see.
But I never killed the lawnmower.