Bee Bold

An edacious thirst for adventure surrounds me. It knows it's bounds, but those that know me find it haunting. Fortunately they contrast with Kristi's audaciously hilarious episodes that have earned her a "special" blog link.

Those that find running a perfectly boring exercise need to get out of the gym and onto the street. Where I live, stuff happens. I prefer not to be caught by surprise, but unfortunately most often this isn't my choice.

There are few things that make a tired runner feel less tired - instantly. Yesterday, a few miles down the road one of those times befell me. I can only imagine the cruel feeling of anonymous pleasure those witnesses may have enjoyed safe behind the windows of their nearby home, while watching me fall victim to their pets. I think I shall avoid those parts for a while as I find this experience a tad more unnerving than even a pesky dog.

I was covering ground enjoying the noon summer shine and letting my thoughts wander, when I suddenly thought, "that's odd, I've never heard these power lines hum like that before." Oh, ok, that's not the power lines - that sounds like flies and they're real close but I can't tell. Hives! clean white honey hives. I think I know what's around my head now! I didn't have to think about running fast... it just happened. Then I felt the first one on my neck. How many there were I don't know, but the sound I do know. I've been around bees enough to know when there's way more than one - and they seem to have a way of sounding vicious when you're their victim.

My focus quickly shifted from a burst of speed to a more disconcerting dilemma. The running shirt intended to keep me cool had trapped a least one bee aft of my shoulder. He was one angry beast. A quick glance back told me I had to act quick. It all happened so fast. Somehow he escaped, but I immediately sensed another on my right shoulder. Another quick swat and I though it was over. Nope! Another buzz on the back of my head. A close shave but his luck ran short and a quick swipe found it's mark.

My heart was beating a little faster than it should have. but Ha! they'd not scored even one kill! ... or so I'd thought. Checking my right shoulder again I found a stinger that must fallen short. However, upon removing it, I learned otherwise and surmised that no pain was felt until the stinger itself is removed.

Without a delay I shook out my shirt and gave it a quick glance since the thought of more was a little too uncomfortable. Besides if there are any more stingers I'd rather not suffer the embarrassment of being stung by a dead bee.

So. The "buzz is worse than the bite". I have been stung more than a few times.... yet I insist... the pain is way more pleasureable than it's counterpart - the moment just before.

I shall simply scratch that route of the list for a while or until the weather lends them less freedom.

Show me the dogs. Even more... may they all be loose to chase me every day.... just don't drop a bunch of sour bee hives in my path so suddenly!