They Got Me…Right On The Keister!

Today I thought I’d clear out some more underbrush in the back yard.  I was happily tromping through the wooded area, chopping away with clippers, loppers, and some really cool electric alligator jaws.  Six-inch-diameter dead tree?  No problem.

I thought the place was looking pretty good.  But every once in a while a wasp buzzed around my head, sending me running for the front yard.  Once the coast was clear, I’d go back to clipping, lopping, and sawing.

The wasps were determined to rid their territory of the large, frenzied intruder…yours truly.  They got smarter.  I wouldn’t be able to hear them if they aimed for the biggest part of me.  I was bending over, trimming a palm, when my rear end suddenly ignited with two, simultaneous needle bursts of pain.


I’m running and hopping around the back yard, shrieking at the top of my lungs, while slapping my buns to stop the attack.  I sure hope my neighbors weren’t home.  I ran inside, as if wasps know they’re not supposed to come into the house.  Fortunately, these two knew that rule.

I ran upstairs, and realized my heart was racing and my beet-red face was pouring sweat.  My hubby tells me that I don’t know how to pace myself.  Once I start working in the yard, all I can think about is the next bush or weed that has to go.  I don’t even think about stopping to rest.

Hmmmm…somehow I wonder if the good Lord sent those little guys to stop me…before I gave myself a heart attack.  I wonder if we’ll have “Remember when…?” sessions in paradise, where we can sit down and laugh with the Lord as He tells us about things we went through on this earth…from His perspective.

My heart’s back to normal, my face has regained its color, and my bottom is on fire.  Oh, the joys of gardening!  […she taps out on the keyboard, as she gingerly sits on a fluffy pillow.]


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