Sting

I suppose I should write something since this is my blog and people check it and they are probably sick of seeing  the picture of  my grandma's pills.  FYI, I spilled coffee on them so I never got the opportunity to take any. :(

The truth is, I don't feel like writing anything because nothing funny has been happening. My dog has a disgusting skin condition that requires several baths a week which neither one of us is very happy about.  And of course, I'm grieeeeeeevvvvviiinnnggggggggggg.  There's nothing funny about that.  But I have been thinking about how many incredible females (human and canine) I have in my life and I'm pretty lucky (except when they die or get a mangey hide, of course.)  My family is heavy on the females.  Kind of like a bee hive.  Speaking of bee hives, or rather, hornet nests; here is a picture of one in our yard that Kira can't leave alone:

Yes, those are arrows poking out and I'm pretty sure the bees didn't do that.  And to answer your next question, I have no idea how many times Kira has been stung.  She admits to nothing.  She's had a long and contentious relationship with striped, stinging insects her entire life from the time she was two years old and tried to pet a big, fat, fuzzy bumble bee and got her first sting.  Over the summer she was helping my sister paint her cabin.  She was up on a ladder painting around a window and she called out to Amy, "There's a bee's nest between some boards here!"  Amy said, "How do you know?" and she said, "Because bees are stinging me!"  It's a good thing she's not allergic to bee venom.