I was out visiting our Hobo Kitties a while ago when something blew into my hair. When I swept the unknown object out, believing it to be a leaf or some other wind blown object, it was then I felt a small prick on my finger and saw the bee fly off, having left his stinger implanted like a small thorn.
Lucy put some meat tenderizer on it to take away some of the sting; maybe it works or maybe it was simply my imagination. It no longer felt like I’d been shot with a nail gun, a little tender still; but manageable.
The last time I’d been stung was the day I bought my brand new Kawasaki KZ-400 motorcycle. I was on my way to work at the police department downtown, riding along T. C. Jester Boulevard when I felt it hit my ear inside the helmet. There was a flash of pain and my ear began to swell a bit.
Upon arrival I mentioned how I’d been stung by a bee and wanted to take the rest of the day off; but my good buddy mentioned how I really only wanted to go ride my new motorcycle; my request was denied. What are friends for if not to ruin a perfectly good chance to go buzzing around on a new motorcycle?
The photo came from an old slide transferred to digital format without concern for close scrutiny, my apologies for the lack of quality.
The first time I ever got stung by a bee was when I was very young. I would capture these little creatures in my hand and put them to my ear to hear them buzzing. I had no idea of the panic caused by such imprisonment or that these wonderfully colored insects might take offense to such close quarters.
One day I must have accidentally smushed, is that not a proper word, the little guy and instantly found how painful a stinger to the palm of my hand felt. Growing up to the realities of life and the lessons it provides is one of the marvels of mortality. I still enjoy watching bees as they gather pollen, a non-threatening relationship to be appreciated; but I no longer wish to capture them or to have them that close to my ears.
Lucy put some meat tenderizer on it to take away some of the sting; maybe it works or maybe it was simply my imagination. It no longer felt like I’d been shot with a nail gun, a little tender still; but manageable.
The last time I’d been stung was the day I bought my brand new Kawasaki KZ-400 motorcycle. I was on my way to work at the police department downtown, riding along T. C. Jester Boulevard when I felt it hit my ear inside the helmet. There was a flash of pain and my ear began to swell a bit.
Upon arrival I mentioned how I’d been stung by a bee and wanted to take the rest of the day off; but my good buddy mentioned how I really only wanted to go ride my new motorcycle; my request was denied. What are friends for if not to ruin a perfectly good chance to go buzzing around on a new motorcycle?
The photo came from an old slide transferred to digital format without concern for close scrutiny, my apologies for the lack of quality.
The first time I ever got stung by a bee was when I was very young. I would capture these little creatures in my hand and put them to my ear to hear them buzzing. I had no idea of the panic caused by such imprisonment or that these wonderfully colored insects might take offense to such close quarters.
One day I must have accidentally smushed, is that not a proper word, the little guy and instantly found how painful a stinger to the palm of my hand felt. Growing up to the realities of life and the lessons it provides is one of the marvels of mortality. I still enjoy watching bees as they gather pollen, a non-threatening relationship to be appreciated; but I no longer wish to capture them or to have them that close to my ears.
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