To be continued....

     As long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a writer. And a photographer, but that was an easy thing to do when I was growing up. Writing was harder. We did not have computers, and I was 8 years old. My handwriting was terrible, and my typing was even worse. But I remember well my first story. It was about Robby the Rocket, and something about a ghost.....well, that was 33 years ago, so I can be excused if I don't remember every detail. I still have it somewhere, if it hasn't been destroyed in one of a succession of storage closets.

     So I started this blog a few years ago with the thought that it would encourage me to start writing. Since this is my fourth entry in almost three years, you can well see that it was a roaring success.

     Right.

     Since I am trying, again, to get myself into the process of writing again, I decided to see if this blog had fallen into the black hole of the internet or still existed. Imagine my surprise when I found that it was still here! And....that I had failed to publish the second entry. I fixed that and added a new one. For anyone that read entry number three, that happened--it did--but it was five years ago. My son did not go into the woods again while we lived in that place unless he was accompanied, and now he is a boy scout (well, he was a Webelo then) and is back to being comfortable in the woods. But he hates yellow jackets. I've been trying to talk him into Georgia Tech for college, but their mascot may turn him off.....maybe if I tell him they're UGA rivals, he'll overlook that.....

     Enough nattering for today. I've never been good at developing habits. Wish me luck on developing this one.

A frightening day in the life of a parent

     The screaming drew my attention. My son, at 11, was not known for screaming. I knew it must be something important. I ran to the back door, right behind Julian. The screaming did not stop, and as he burst from the woods, we realized why. His bright yellow shirt was covered in yellow jackets--he was surrounded by a swarm of them, and they were still stinging him. Julian, who is allergic to stings of all sorts, met Robyn in the back yard as the boy ran towards us.

     Julian yelled, “Raise your arms!” pulled Robyn’s shirt straight up off of him, then ran away from the shirt and sent the boy inside after me. I led him into the bathroom, ordered him into the tub, and grabbed the ammonia from under the sink.

     “Close your eyes and mouth,” I told him, and then started pouring ammonia all over him, making sure to get all the stings I could see. There were dozens, and seeing them scared me. I kept pouring, and had him shuck out of his pants as best he could with his eyes tightly shut. Julian came in and took over from me as my eyes started tearing so that I could not see. I turned on the bathroom fan as I left to find the antihistamines in the kitchen. I could hear Robyn still whimpering, standing naked in the tub, ammonia fumes filling the trailer.

     “They were trying to chew through his shirt. I poured a bottle of alcohol over it and stuck it in the freezer. That’ll show ’em. We should get him rinsed off now,” Julian told me as I came back with the pink box. I handed him the box and started to run water in the bathtub.

     “Lie down in the water, kiddo. We want to get all that ammonia rinsed off you.” I leaned over and scooped water over the parts of him that were not under the water yet. Julian came up behind me with a small glass bottle and a little pink and white capsule and a glass of water. “Here, take this. It will help you feel better.” Obediently, he swallowed the capsule and the water. Julian handed me another small glass. “Make sure he sips at this.” I nodded and held the glass out to Robyn. He took it, took a small sip, and handed it back to me.

     He was no longer crying, and by now he was much calmer. I started counting stings. “What happened?” I asked as I got to thirty.

     “I was walking in the woods and I kicked a stick, and there was a yellow jacket nest under it. They all came out and started chasing me. I don’t want to go into the woods anymore.”

     “We’ll take care of that nest. We’ll go get some wasp killer tomorrow, OK?”

    “OK.”

     He was getting sleepy now, and the smell of ammonia had faded away. I drained the tub, toweled him off carefully, and led him into the living room to watch television until he fell asleep, the thirty-seven yellow jacket stings already starting to fade.

     The next day Julian got Robyn to show him where the nest was. Then we went and got a can of wasp killer and at dusk Julian went and filled the nest with it.