Every day is Father's Day.

Guess who was just minding her own business, trying to be a responsible homeowner by throwing a little grass seed down in the bald spots of her front lawn? And guess who learned the hard way that there was a ginorous mud dauper nest inside her hose reel?

Sonofbitchshit.

Well, the blue mud daupers are really pretty. But a bit, umm, bitchy. I have four stings on my left bicep. Perhaps it will swell up and I will look really buff. But right now? Right now, I'm stoned out of my mind on Benadryl. I'm sort of allergic to wasps.

Strangely, these stings didn't hurt the way I remember other stings to hurt. Perhaps I have passed my Delicate Young Flower stage and am now officially a Tough Old Broad.

The wasps made me think of my sweet daddy. When Poochie and I were growing up, we had one of those metal swing sets. Ours was white with orange and green accents (of course - the official color scheme of the 70s).

The problem with this particular swing set design was that the hollow tubes made the most awesome wasp condos ever. And no kid is particularly pumped about swing sets with the added bonus of painful stings.

So, every year, my dad would get his can of Raid and spray the crap out of that swing set. My mom, Poochie and I would stand at the sliding glass door and watch him spray Raid into one end of the main swing set support ... and watch a hot mess of pissed-off wasps come flying out the other end. Then, we'd cheer as my dad ran like holy hell for the house, wasps hot on his tail.

It's one of those things that I thought was really cool as a kid. As an adult, I know how completely distasteful that task is and have a totally new appreciation for my dad.

Eye of the tiger? More like eye of the dachshund.

I'm tired. I'm work tired and socially tired and preemptively tired.

I have big stuff going on the next two weekends. The last two weekends had big stuff going on. Work is insane. And I have to travel again. All of this is really, really good. But ... I'm burning the candle at both ends.

I'm having trouble remembering to be here now - to be in the moment.

I snapped this picture today after Foxie Doxie had sunned himself on the deck for about an hour. His shiny fur was warm to the touch and he was obviously delirious with joy.

I need to be more like Foxie.

You are a mediocre companion.

College roommate reunion continues. We've eaten bagel dogs. And cupcakes. And Chinese food. And I feel like a beached whale. But a very happy beached whale.

One of my friends has a lovely 6-year-old who made us all construction paper signs. I received these two:

You are niys

and

I like you. But BOO!

Heh heh heh.

We've also had in depth conversations about important topics facing western culture today. Of course, this means we've discussed bikini waxes. And gossiped about our sorority sisters. But here's the deal: once you've lived with three other women in a 12' by 12' room crammed with two bunk beds, two desks and two dressers? Well, you're friends for life. And there are very few topics that are off limits.

Yes, this means we also talked about hemorrhoids, the truth about marriage and random memories that some or all of us might or might not actually remember.

If you were a fly on the wall, you would have overheard gems like:

Don't you remember? You and Faith went to some soap actors' appearance on campus and one of the actors cupped your face in his hands and said, "You have the most perfect eyebrows. Don't ever change?"

And, of course, the title of this post. To be honest, I don't even remember the context - I think it had something to do with Hallmark. But no matter what? It's brilliant.

Hey, I'm walkin' here!

My sweet college roommates are visiting this weekend. This means:

1. Lots of eating. Like, lots of eating.

2. Lots of conversations like this one:

You're friends with him on Facebook? Did you ever e-mail him and say, 'Hey, thanks for breaking my heart?'

Yeah, and also 'Thanks for being an asshole and making me so depressed that I listened to nothing but Counting Crows for, like, a year?'

Yeah. Is he at least fat now? Let's look him up!

Obviously, we are letting the good times roll.

Actually, it's so refreshing and fun and comforting to be with people who know all about you - have known all about you for a very long time - and who love you anyway. People who knew you when, loved you then and love you now. I am so, so fortunate.

We're also having a fun time watching for a van in front of my house and coming up with hypothetical responses to Mr. Second Chance's latest two e-mails.

On Wednesday, he wrote: I have figured out what I'm going to do! I am going to remain single and unattached until u change your mind. And if u never change your mind, then I will just remain single and unattached for the rest of my life. There, at least i have a game plan now!

And today, he recalled an earlier conversation about top five movies of all time (oh, the nostalgia - our second date!): I want to put The Graduate and Midnight Cowboy on my top 5 list. BTW, have u changed ur mind?

I am not responding because I don't want to engage him. But really? Really, it's all starting to creep me out. Because, really? Who identifies Midnight Cowboy as a movie they love and could watch again and again and again?

Best accidentally naughty Google ad.

Mom, Dad and match.com.

I showed my parents my match.com profile, and poked around the site to show them how it works. Some new guy had winked at me, so the three of us perused his profile.

First of all, he's 26.

Second of all, I sort of doubt we are a good match. His profile is ... unique. First of all, it broke my number one rule of match.com profiles: the guy posted a shirtless picture. Secondly, well, his approach to dating is a bit different from mine:

I'm looking for a good time. Don't bother messaging me if you're uptight or not looking for fun. I like to party and want to meet you. I have one piercing - it's below the waist. Just ask me and I'll tell you more.

Ooookay, then. Mom? Dad? Good thing you gave me a nice set of knives at Christmas so I don't have to get married. Ever.

In other news, Mr. Second Chance Guy has started texting me again.

First? You are my confidant. I'm bonking my head on the steering wheel after another bad date. I think I should give up.

Second, about a day later? Cha Cha, help? Do you have any single friends who are exactly identical to you who might be interested in me?

And finally, this afternoon? Can a guy get a third chance? Do u even give third chances? If u do, how does a guy get one? Can I buy one? I'll even pay extra.

Now, I haven't responded to any of these texts, and considering they are getting decidedly creepy, I'm not going to. Besides, my parents told me not to.

And now? Now, I'm watching an Indy 500 DVD with my dad, laughing hysterically at a home movie with Tony Kanaan. He's sneaking up on other drivers at a media event ... with a fart button. Hahaha.

Obviously, I am a very complex woman.

Back home again.

I have escaped Corporate Behemoth! I'm in Iowa, hanging with my parents. Tomorrow, my dad and I will head to the Hoosier State, where we will revel in The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.

I drove here with the windows down. I love the way spring smells. This time of year, Iowa smells like honeysuckle. Of course, there are parts of the Hawkeye State that also smell like money. And, umm, here? Money smells sort of ... uh ... earthy.

But I like the smell of honeysuckle. And I like the smell of green.

I like how my longer hair whips around in the windy car. And I like my new, oversized sunglasses that make me feel fabulous.

I like hanging with my folks. And I like how Shih Tzu Magic looked at me with disdain, then perused my empty car. He peed on a bush, then licked my leg, thanking me for leaving Foxie Doxie and Lil' Frankfurter at home. They are currently hanging with Puppy Love Lisa, the dog sitter and their Favorite Human Ever. Everyone is happy.

I like that it's spring, and I can feel summer coming on. I also like how I can feel Corporate Behemoth fading away, even if it's just for four days.