@#&*! squirrels

And so it begins - my favorite time of year (please note the blatant use of the sarcasm font here).

Let me introduce myself; I'm a squirrel hater. Yes, you read that right - there is no love lost between those little rats with fluffy tails and me. Some people claim to have seen me swerve to hit them as they scurry across the street. I won't confirm or deny that - but you certainly won't find an "I brake for squirrels" bumper sticker on my car.

What does this have to do with the picture? Today I found the first half-eaten, not-ready-to-be-consumed pecan of the season. See, the squirrels and I have a routine: they try to eat the pecans before they're ready, then they blame me for the "crap" food.

It would be fine if they would just be pissed off and then leave, but no - they have to stay in my trees and pelt me with half-eaten pecan shells. My poor child has spent many a morning running from house to car, ducked under a backpack for cover from the pecan shell bullets.

From now until the spring of 2012, I will not be able to walk outside barefoot (learned after too many bloody foot lacerations from pecan shell shards). So, starting today, I will raise my fist in the air and yell at them and they will raise their tiny furry fists and chatter a response. Right after they hit me above the left eye with a half eaten pecan.