Hello friends, Another Friday night at the cabin. Some things just go together...you know like popcorn and butter, french fries and ketchup, rock and roll, guns and bullets, oh ya...yellow jackets and beer. The crisp summer evening evolved as I consumed a few liquid refreshments. Sitting back I surmised it was an opportune time to accost the resident drones. These cantankerous insects will go to great length protecting the paper nest they call home. The problem...they constructed their abode in the mist of mine. Indulging in another barley pop seem to give me audacity or maybe the daftness to invade their space. Things got real interesting. Five beers and five nest sure seemed like even odds at the time. So there I was standing in boxer shorts, 10 feet up on the ladder, a long stick an flashlight in one hand, bee spray in the other. Now I have no issue admitting that I was a bit apprehensive When the first intense buzzing started and that dam moth hit my arm, I ran away quicker than loose bowels stricken with dysentery. Gathering my wits I approached ground zero with intention of complete eradication, theirs or mine. After several more minutes of fervent "battle of the bee's," I returned to the front deck to finish my beer while reflecting, contented with the fact that I had not one sting and I was the one with the buzz.