My earliest memory of my first bee sting was when I was 4 years old. Why is it we remember all the traumatic moments of childhood and not the rainbow and unicorn moments? But I digress. I remember our next door neighbor was a sweet little old lady in a wheelchair who used to hang out in her backyard and loved when one of us kids would be out there talking to her through our fence.
It was a warm summer day so naturally I was barefoot playing in the backyard and talking to the nice old lady next door. My mom called me in for lunch, and as I was racing to the house, I stepped on a bee. So of course the remainder of my race to the house was peppered with shrieks and screams as I tried to hop on one foot over what seemed like a terminal distance to the back door.
My mom removed the stinger and applied a concoction of baking soda and water to help with the pain. I still remember clearly watching her with fascination as she stirred with a click, click, click of the Popsicle stick she was using to mix the concoction in one of her small Tupperware bowls.
Fast forward to junior high, I was sitting on the grass minding my own business with some friends when I leaned onto my hand… which apparently landed right on a bee. That stung my hand. Not as much shrieking and screaming this time, but the same application of baking soda and water did the trick.
Fast forward again to a few years ago in our current house, I noticed every so often a yellow jacket somehow made it into the house. These were a little different than the yellow jackets I crossed paths with during my childhood – these looked leaner and meaner. We’d spray around the outside of the house to hopefully deter them into going somewhere else, but it seemed to be a never-ending problem.
Then we had the audacity to leave for a week and a half on vacation in Louisiana – upon our return I headed upstairs to the finished attic where my desk was set up with my computer to do some online catch-up. As I reached the top step of the attic stairs, I heard an eerie humming sound. Glancing around I couldn’t figure out where that odd sound was coming from, until I noticed unusual shadows through the closed blinds of the windows.
I peeked around the edge of the blinds and almost let out a scream, but luckily I kept my wits about me, held my breath and made a quick, silent exit (screaming in my head, of course) – making sure to close the attic floor door (you know the kind of door that’s inset into the floor), then the door at the bottom of the stairs to the attic as well, immediately seeking out the hubby and informing him that there were literally hundreds of bees buzzing in the attic.
He thought I might have been exaggerating on the ‘hundreds’ part, and had to go check it out for himself. I don’t think I’ve seen him move that fast in years as he made a quick exit from the attic. We ended up getting bombs for the house, bombed the attic (and the closets under the eaves of the attic) and retired to the Summer House to let the bombs do their job.
We discovered a small hole in the side of the siding where they were getting in and after they were all killed off, we plugged the hole to avoid any future bee invasion. It was quite the task to vacuum up all those bee bodies afterwards – and not a pleasant one at that. Thank goodness none of us got stung – especially since Princess Nagger was 4 at the time, ironically enough. Luckily none of us are allergic – though I do say I’m allergic to pain.
Which brings me to this week’s question:
Have you ever been stung by a bee? Are you allergic?
Have a great weekend.
Happy Aloha Friday!
In Hawaii, Aloha Friday is the day that we take it easy and look forward to the weekend. So on Fridays let’s take it easy on posting, too. Ask a simple question…nothing that requires a lengthy response. It’s a great way to make new blogging friends!
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