When my sister was in town the other day, my mom took us on a tour of her yard. (Have I mentioned that she does this every single time I go over to her house? I'm not sure why, but it makes her happy so I'll humor her.) Actually, I might know why she wanted me to come with - my mom said something about bringing me along to act as mosquito repellent. See, my mom and my sister know that if they go outside with me (or my dad, which is probably why he stays in), the mosquitoes will ignore them completely as they feast upon my lovely pale limbs and thick sugary blood.
Mosquitoes have always loved me - as a kid at Girl Scout camp I would be covered from head to toe in bites. And I react poorly to them too - I remember my right thigh blowing up to twice its size after a series of bites.
When I went on a picnic with Melody the other night, I was attacked by mosquitoes. My ankles were hit particularly hard and I have five bites on the left one and four on the right. Generally, I'm not huge on taking medicine, but last night my left ankle was incredibly swollen and, despite slathering on anti itch cream, I was about to rip my skin open because it itched so much. So I took Benadryl. Two of them.
I slept really well. And when I woke up at 10am, my ankles no longer felt like they were going to burst. But I was still tired. So I did nothing today because I kept falling asleep. I slept from noon until 2, from 3 until 4, from 6 until 8. Ridiculous. And yet, I think it was worth it to lose a day in order to have my ankles back. That's how bad it was.
I don't mind telling about my ankles, but I will spare you the showing. Instead, I'll show and tell you the fourth.
For the fourth we went to watch the city's firework display from the same place we always do - my friend M's office has a parking lot out back where we can sit and have a good view of the building they shoot the fireworks off from . Here's a crappy picture of the view:
Amazingly, Charlie totally ignored the firecrackers.
He also got along really well with my friend M and his husband's new dog Phoenix (Pheeny). She's an overweight three year old wiener dog (Edit: This is a total lie. She is a miniature pinscher. I'm not sure why I called her a wiener dog. Wishful thinking perhaps.) and she's not used to other dogs. The first time they met they were a little snarly. Now they are just good old butt sniffin buddies.
After this, we went back to M and B's house, sat on the porch, and enjoyed....
The wine Kate sent! AND we were so classy that we broke out the styrofoam cups! (Hip hip hooray to Kate!)
I hope the last day of this holiday weekend is great for everyone.