I used to like a jazz/fusion band in the 80's called the Yellowjackets. I don't like them anymore. Probably because they attacked me. Okay, it was the wasp-version that attacked me.
I was innocently weeding the garden and using a thrasher to cut down some tall weeds. I was taking out a lot of aggression when suddenly I started to feel a bunch of pricks on my arm and stomach. I looked down to see a few yellow jackets on me.
I had the kids with me. Fortunately, the yellow jackets were not after them. I told my son to run, which he did. But I had to grab the baby and football-carry her while I ran to the house. Once I got the kids inside, I had to still deal with the angry wasps. I went back outside because I was afraid they were still on me and I didn't want them in the house. I think they were waiting for me. So I quickly took my shirt off and managed to get back into the house. As far as I know, only three got into the house.
I sustained 10 stings on my arms, stomach, legs, back, and face. They really weren't that bad, and I didn't have any reaction. But I drank a lot of beer--just in case!
Today the sting sites are swollen and itchy.
Tonight, the yellow jackets are doomed. My husband is getting a spray. Bye Bye!
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