Now, you're probably asking why my blog title hints at violence or retribution of the legume kind. Well, I was out on the patio, merrily transplanting plants when well... my boob started itching. I was sweaty, it happens, okay? So I reached down for a little sport bra tug and a scratch, and I suddenly realized, "Hey, that doesn't itch, that HURTS." So I pulled the neck of my shirt out and this itty bitty mini-bumble bee looking thing floats lazily out of my cleavage. And my boob begins to swell.
I hate nature.
I have no idea how long I had animal life living in my cleavage.
And now I'm sleepy from the Benadryl I popped, and I have a baking soda paste oozing between my tatas.
So much for the zen.... Oh well. Here are a couple pics of the migrant garden's latest migration.