The War

Today, two days before my partially outdoor graduation party, my parents and I have discovered a nest of bees entrenched in the small gap between the brick and the wood that makes up the back wall of our house. The wood part of the second floor has a slight overhang over the brick wall of the first story, so the bees have set up the entrance to their camp in the upper corner, underneath the overhang. At any given moment, there are about twenty to thirty bees patrolling the area around the entrance for several feet in every direction. This poses a problem; how to get at them?
My parents and I looked up various remedies on the Internet, from soapy water to pesticides. The problem was, anything that we used would have to project itself up the hole in order to reach the nest, meaning anything non-compressed and ready-to-shoot was out of the question. My mom went to Lowe's and returned twenty minutes later with two different types of Wasp/Hornet spray while my dad and I cleared the plants underneath the overhang. This was war, and we wanted to minimize civilian casualties.
My mom dressed for action - a jacket and a pair of gardening gloves. My dad and I set up our ladder a few feet from the overhang and, armed with the first can of insecticide, she slowly planted a foot on the first step. With no response from the bees, she advanced cautiously, gripping the can tightly. About halfway up the ladder, she aimed and fired. The spray from the insecticide, supposedly 25 feet long, was in fact about five feet at best. She emptied the can at the bees, but to no avail, at least that we could see.
My dad, similarly dressed, took the second can and, like the first wave, he crept up the ladder, checking for any reaction at each step. We had moved the ladder closer for this attempt, but the spray still fell pitifully short of the entrance to the nest. He emptied this can as well, but this was more to get rid of it than out of any real trust that it would work.
For our next attack, we waited until near dusk, when websites and friends had told us that the majority of the bees were likely to be in the nest. And indeed, the number of bees patrolling seemed to have lessened. Emboldened by our successful prediction, we moved the ladder directly underneath the entrance to the nest for our next weapon: a fogger.
Foggers are generally used indoors: a "fogged" house would have one of these pressurized canisters set on the floor of every room with all the furniture covered and people and pets evacuated. A jet of toxic insecticide would spray out vertically from the top of the canister, and this chemical would saturate the air inside the house, killing any unwanted inhabitants (this also works well for stowaways and those kids who never know when the game of hide-and-seek is over).
We set up the fogger outside, against the directions on the label. But we had had success with foggers in the past (indoors), and we had faith in its ability to shoot directly inside the nest, and perhaps saturate the air in there.
My parents dragged the ladder, as I said, directly underneath the entrance to the nest. We found an unused flowerpot filled with soil (we hope nothing was growing there - it's dead now, anyways), and set it down gingerly on the top platform of the ladder. While I, jacketed and gloved, held the ladder steady, my dad, also re-armored, scaled our assault vehicle and, once at the top, planted the fogger firmly in the flowerpot, facing the top in the direction of the nest.
We all held our breaths, and my dad depressed the button on top. A short burst, and then nothing; a false start.
He did it again, this time holding it down for a few seconds, and suddenly a spray of gas shot straight at the entrance to the next. Holding his breath, my dad descended the ladder quickly, and we all retreated to a safe distance. The fogger, it seemed, was working. Although no bees were dropping like flies yet, it was aimed perfectly at the nest, and definitely getting its noxious fumes inside. But the fumes were also spreading out at least a few feet from the ladder. We all retreated inside and watched from a window, waiting and hoping for victory.
I'm starting to think we need an exit strategy.

Even More Updates

Some things I forgot in the last post.

1. Set list from the concert:

Malaguena - Nirav, Luis
Bass Solo - Brandon
12-Bar Blues - Nirav, Luis, Brandon, Raphael, Mr. Peguero
.45 - Brandon, Zach
Pink Floyd Medley - Alex, Keenan, Camden
Stairway to Heaven - Keenan, Marcus
Iris - Brandon, Zach
So Cold - Brandon, Zach
Nothing Else Matters - Brandon, Zach, Nirav, Jake
Purple Haze - Brandon, Nirav
Eruption - Camden
Seek and Destroy - Luis, Raif, Ian, Marcus, Adam
For Whom the Bell Tolls - Luis, Raif, Ian, Marcus, Adam

2. Life is becoming increasingly hectic. I have something almost every day of the week, and any off time I get, I need to be packing for Germany and practicing my speech.

3. I'm in the market for a new electric guitar to bring with me to college. I can't stand a floating bridge anymore, like on Strats and Strat knock-offs; I think I want a light Ibanez.

4. I probably forgot some more things. Will post again soon.

Updates

Wow - a whole lot of stuff has happened since my last update.

1. I wrote my speech. Then I had to rewrite it. Apparently, speaking for over a minute is way too much for graduation. I also had to cut out all personal references besides my family, and all specific references to club and organizations. That was the first rewrite. Then I had to add in a thank-you to administrators, and take out a reference to mercury spills. This is censorship.

2. Prom was, well, interesting. It was both boring and over too fast at the same time. About ten minutes before it was supposed to be over, the fire alarm rang. People came to my house afterwards and we watched Pirates of the Carribbean. Pictures are up on Facebook.

3. We got our caps and gowns at graduation practice.

4. The Guitar Club Concert rocked, plain and simple. This is one of the things I'm most proud of in high school. Pictures on Facebook soon.

5. I got a new laptop, which I am blogging from now. It's sexy. Sony Vaio VGN-SZ110.

Further updates as events warrant.

They misspelled my name in the Hightower newspaper. Nirav Shanghani. Sounds vaguely Japanese.

And events have come full circle, somewhat.

Bye!

I Give Up

Ok. I get it. I give up.
Until Thanksgiving break.

On a lighter note, Michael Buble is a really good artist. Although people like Frank Sinatra are infinitely better, it's nice to see young artists respect their roots. It's despicable when people think that Ray Charles ripped off Kanye West.

Guitar club spring 2006 concert: Thursday, May 18, 2006. Times: 6:30 to around 8:00. If nothing else, it'll be interesting.

Gotta write my speech by Tuesday. Class of '06, here we go.

Talk to Me?

Why don't people stay in touch anymore? Too many people have moved away from me that I love dearly, and this is only the beginning. What will happen when we all go to college? We'll all see each other in summer vacation, I guess, but how many friendships will drop off and wither away because we're just lazy? Perhaps that ones that are worth keeping will be kept; I trust that it will sort itself out.
But others...Norway, California, Ohio; everyone's moving away. And one specifically; why shut me out? I try to call, email, IM you, but I get barely a response. If you want me out of your life, then tell me so, and I promise, I'll stop bothering you. But don't just ignore me; the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference.
It's not fair.