I'm not old, but I am a wife, and I have a tale to tell.

If I were to speak Bug, I would hear all the mosquitoes talk amongst themselves about how delicious my skin is. Particulary my legs. Now, in my opinion, I don't think I would describe them as delicious, but more like tasty. Those dang mosquitoes eat at me like I'm their last meal. And me only. What's up with THAT?

I've read a lot about how to prevent mosquito bites (like not eating bananas - did you know that?) and other bizarre remedies. I've tried all-natural repellants (like Listerine - which actually works, but not for long periods of time and can cause your perfume to be overburdened by a minty fresh scent).

I've resorted to simply trying to stay indoors at any time later than dusk. How boring. No one wants red spots all over their legs during the summer! It's totally unattractive.

But last night I put on my bravery and headed out with my camera to capture a storm that moved through the area just north-ish of us, totally missing us, but making for some spectacular lightning and cloud shows.

Did I mention I'm a huge dork when it comes to weather? I love weather. And clouds. I'm always telling my kids to look at the interesting shaped clouds. And have you ever tried to specifically point out a certain cloud to a child? It's like trying to put pajamas on a porcupine, only slightly less painful.

Anyway, my mom and I had our eye on this particularly large cloud that had lightning going all through it, at pretty regular intervals.


Here it is in all of its onimousity. So I started snapping away, generally trying to time the lightning (yeah, right, stupid) and taking over 50 photos in about 2 minutes. As I stood in the long grass (where the heck is my landscaping guy anyway!!), I could feel the mosquitoes flocking to my legs, and I really had the sensation that I was covered in bugs from my knees down.

But sacrifices I will make for important things such as this. And I kept my camera high, ignoring the bugs the entire time. Sorta.

I finally caught some instance of lighting.

It was awesome! I was surprised I could actually catch it. It looked much cooler in real life, but really, I don't care because the only people that can accurately photograph lightning in motion work for important organizations like National Geographic and I, well... don't.

I was taking brief breaks to scratch all the skin off my legs in an attempt to keep the mosquitoes at bay, but I knew it was too late. Surely I had at least 64 bites at this point already.

In all my giddyness, I kept snapping. I was determined to get a really great shot of lightning.

And then came this one. Which was pretty darn cool, if you ask me. It's like a rain cloud with a silver lining.

Wow, I really missed my calling to be a motivational speaker, didn't I?

Anyway, so that was pretty cool, and I continued.

And then.

Then.

It happened.

I was so excited and jumping up and down and yelling and talking at a very fast pace (I have been known to do that on occasion. Okay, daily.) I ran inside to show everyone my new accomplishment.

After the hooplah subsided, I looked down at my legs. One word: Yikes.

I started counting mosquito bites and stopped at 12 because I was so miserable from all the itching.

Then my mom suggested I try anti-bacterial hand gel on them, to clean out any bacteria from the bites.

I took the idea and ran with it (literally) covering my entire bottom half of my body in half a container of Purell. It took about 4 minutes to dry, which is a lot.

I resisted the temptation to scratch and went to bed feeling very squeaky clean and reeking of rubbing alcohol. My husband found it irresistable. Ha!

Anyway, this morning... I am here to tell you people that my mom is officially old. She is a wife. And even though she says she never lies, she tells tales. And this one is true. The antibacterial gel caked on my legs worked perfectly. There is no evidence I even had one iota of a mosquito bite last night.

So, I'm here to say: YAY! Oh, and THANKS, MOM! You so smart!

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek