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Violet: It turns out we’re right by one of the best places in Hawaii to go sea kayaking with dolphins.
me: Ya, and sharks.
Violet: No, they don’t allow the sharks to kayak.
I can’t stop watching this video. Now, I know my inner fag is grinning like a little girl because of the show tune but the whole thing is making my tum feel like popcorn is popping. Like maybe I can save the rain forests somehow, maybe I should go to law school, maybe I am the best rollerblader ever who hasn’t tried rollerblading yet and it’s not just a reoccurring dream, maybe I should send my choreographed ‘CHER the Musical’ idea to Cher (that now most definitely has a leading role for Ms. Susan Boyle). Maybe you’ve seen this already? Does that really matter? Watch. this. video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk
I went to bed last night with this nagging feeling that I might die. Not that I would die, but that I might.
I know I’ll die, of course I do. Of course I will. But minus a few exciting moments in my life I don’t regularly consider this as an impending situation for myself. Last night, as I lay next to Violet, who was sound asleep by hours already, I battled a few different philosophies around the idea of dying and somehow fell fast asleep.
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I am allergic to bees. Very allergic. If the allergist who discovered this for me read my blog he might have said I was ‘allergic-squared’ because I am. But instead he said I was ‘off the charts’ allergic. I have only known this for less than two years now and so my relationship with bees, which has always been a bit odd anyway, has shifted.
I am a gardener by trade and by passion and so I spend quite a bit of time with bees. I still love them and find them more fascinating and beautiful than most animals (octopi and elephants also making the list of top-animal-awe). I understand that bees do more good for the world than I could ever thank them for – but there is this new twist to it now. If one of them, just one, just any ol’ bee, for whatever reason, was to sting me – who knows- and that scares me in the same way that all of those things that could, but haven’t, and probably won’t, but could, things scare me. It ‘s peripheral, but it’s there.
Most days I have a pocket full of Benadryl and an Epi Pen in my bag, just in case. And when they are buzzing around I am still not afraid of them really, they’re just doing their thing and I know that, but I’m obviously more on guard than I use to be. But we still get on together as a pretty strong team: I weed, sculpt, tend to and water the earth around their flowers, plants and berries while they pollinate and flourish the colors and fruits and buds into their fullest, illuminated ability. Not a bad team, right?
But I do, and have always had, this odd relationship with bees, that for the most part I think would be too hard to explain. But quite simply, I’ll be, or the bee will be, in the strangest of places for a bee to be – and still somehow, there will be me and a bee.
I have been on an 60 story elevator ride alone with a bee. I recently found a dead bee in the bag I took to work each day. A bee and I once drove through 4 different states together without my knowing (until it left me at a rest stop in Tennessee). I once walked an entire block, covered in a foot of snow, with a bee buzzing at my feet like an obedient pet the whole way. Maybe these don’t sound that odd, but my strange bee moments have been frequent and always notable and make room for pause, like, ‘hey there little bee, what are you doing here?’ And now that I am knowingly quite allergic, I ask this with a bit more concern tucked into my wonder.
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So, yesterday (ah, the point to all of this!) Violet went to take a quick mid-day nap when all of a sudden I heard, “jeeeeeessseeeee!” in a sleepy-sweet and mildly alarmed tone. I went upstairs assuming I would be removing a spider or something and I walked in to our bedroom to find this not-so-little bee sleeping oh so soundly right in the middle of my pillow.
I went downstairs to get a jar to catch it and put it outside but when I got back upstairs the bee was gone. We both timidly looked for the bee for a while. I checked behind picture frames and drawers while Violet combed the bed. No bee.
What bothered me the most was how the bee got in the house – in our bedroom. No windows have been open in quite some time and we just couldn’t figure it out.
As soon as we gave up looking and I had already decided that I would sleep on the couch that night, there, two steps in front of me was the not-so-little bee, sitting as properly as the Seal does when she wants something, just staring at me. We caught it, put it out side and got on with our day.
It wasn’t until I went to bed last night that I started to wonder again, how in the world that bee got inside. And why was it on my pillow? All of a sudden I was overwhelmed with this fear that the bee on my pillow was a prelude or foreshadowing to something and I really scared myself. What if I had just lay my head on that bee sleeping on my pillow? What if there were more bees in the room, even just one more – and I fell asleep and was stung? Would it wake me up? Would I sleep right through? It was amazing really, to think, to all of a sudden realize, how fragile it all is. One little bee, me and a sting. Done. I think it eventually all felt too easy, too unbelievable that I exhausted myself and somehow fell asleep.
I woke up, obviously, and am just a little more aware of myself today than yesterday. Violet is almost annoyed with all of the kisses but happy to have come home to her favorite dinner and dessert, all home made. My grandma, my mom, my dad, my brother, an old friend and Ruth were all happy to hear from me, but curious.
No catch, just glad to be here.
…off. (Come on folks, you know I don’t write about that stuff. I mean, with the Seal reading and all- how inappropriate.)
But it is true. Due to the economy and the nature of work I was involved with I am now one of the many standing in line at the unemployment office. Well, by standing in line at the unemployment office, I mean sleeping in until around 10, going for long walks with the Seal, gardening, keeping the house fairly clean, attempting to make dinners, and watching way, way too many old episodes of The Golden Girls.
Now, as glamorous as my newly titled house-husband status sounds it does get a little boring… but I am not willing to complain yet.
And on the up side of things, on my last day of work Violet temporarily lost her sense of sensibility and sent me the confirmation email with the two tickets she had booked to, oh, you know, Hawaii- for, oh you know, next week! No, I am not joking because a joke is suppose to be funny and if this were not true, well, that is not funny.
So, my life has been a little scattered, as is being represented in my sporadic postings but all is well as is demonstrated in the content.
And yes, I realize by outing my joblessness I will have to dig deeper in my pocket of excuses or simply post way more frequently.
This post is nothing more than a tribute to one of the best friends I have ever been lucky enough to find.
Message: Sin, Although this may not be true for us, having never slept together and all, I wanted to be the first one to send you this card. Am I the first one or what? And if I’m not… awkward! -jj-
…And to Iowa! Man oh man, one by one, someday, the choice will be all of ours. Thank you, you curvy, sexy, unanimously, intelligently, thoughtful, beautiful, state.
Sing it Dar!