Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. ~Mohammad Ali
Saturday morning was promising to be unusually hot, thanks to the weather pattern we’re in…no rain in sight for weeks on end. I jumped in the shower, knowing that before the day was out, I’d need another one to wash away the dirt and grim accumulated after a day of baseball and over 100 degree temperatures.
And, since we’ve had no rain for 20,ooo months, give or take a few, I knew I would need to take care of my potted plants in the front yard.
After my shower I wrapped my wet head in my trusty pink twisty towel. When I walk around with my hair in the towel, all I’m missing are big hoop earrings and a flowered mumu housedress. Oh, and terry cloth slippers.
Don’t think I’ve not thought of it. It sounds extremely comfortable….
Fortunately, though, I put on shorts and a tee-shirt instead. I haven’t digressed to the mumu. Yet.
So, I stepped out on the front porch, hair up in the pink turban, not a stitch of makeup on, ready to give a drink to my thirsty plants. I was hoping against hope none of the neighbors would be outside.
I almost got off the porch when I spotted my neighbor Jim, who was watering his yard. I tried to duck back in.
Dang it. He saw me.
Now, Jim is a chatty neighbor. And, so am I. So, if we’re both out in our front yards, there’s going to be a conversation, pink turban or not.
As I filled the pots with H2O, I waved a quick hello to Jim, hoping he wasn’t in the mood to talk.
Not only did Jim wave and say hello back, he asked a question.
I like Jim, but I didn’t want him to have to see me in my pink head covering.
Jim’s question drew me away from the comfort and safety of my front porch, out into the yard, into the open air, visible for all to see.
As I spoke to Jim, though, I forgot about my turban and began describing all the work being done in our backyard.
While I was talking, a buzzing insect circled my head a few times, before I finally used my hand to shoo it away.
Instead of flying away, as I had commanded the bug, it landed on my right check, just below my eye.
I’m not really one to run away from insects, even the stinging kind, because I figure the insect is more scared of me, and I assume it will go on its merry way, neither of us needing to bother the other. (Unless, of course, it’s a hornet or a yellow jacket, both of which do not shy away from a swatting hand. Rather, they tend to find it a challenge.) But, in this moment, I did not think it was a hornet or yellow jacket–its buzzing sounded different, more like a big horsefly.
I automatically reached up to knock the intruder off my face.
Unfortunately, the insect, whatever it was, did not take to being swatted from my face. I only made the thing mad. Rather than flying away, it grabbed hold of my cheek and laid claim to it. Hard.
In an instant, it felt like the insect had driven a stake into my face as if grabbing land in Oklahoma.
It stung the snot out of me!!
For, like, 30 minutes, it stung me. Maybe an hour.*
Suddenly, I was doing a jig in my front yard, yelling, something along the lines of, “Oh, sweetbabyJesus, what in the world is happening to my face?!,” “Satan, get thee behind me and off of my face!!” and, “Owwww! That hurts!!!,” all the while thrashing and flailing my arms about. My pretty-in-pink turban came off as I doubled over in shock and awe.**
(Don’t forget my neighbor Jim was taking this all in, still watering his yard.)
Finally, I grabbed my turban up off the ground. (I needed to make sure I grabbed my pink headdress; I couldn’t just leave it lying there in the front yard, even if I was being attacked by a swarm of angry bees…what in the world would Jim have thought about my littering the yard?)
I gathered myself, and my turban, and began my quick dash into the house.
I think I may have been yelping and calling back to Jim something between a “Oh my goodness, he stung me! He stung me!! What was it, a giant flying scorpion? Help me, I think I’m going die!!!” and, “Bye, Jim, I need to go in right now. I enjoyed chatting with you.” ***
That stinkin’ devil bug continued to chase after me!! He dive-bombed me at least a hundred more times**** as I swung my pink turban around my head as if I were competing in a ribbon dance in the Olympics. It was beauty in motion, I’m sure of it.
(I’m just sad Jim will be kept awake at night with visions of me doing the bee dance.)
Yes, that’s my pink turban! It’s pretty, yes? And, that’s my pink bee sting. It’s pretty, too, no?
Maybe if I add some big earrings and a few pieces of fruit, I’d resemble the Chiquita Banana Girl….
(Below was later in the day, on Saturday. The swelling had not gone down, yet. In fact, the swelling wasn’t too terribly bad, but it hurt, deep in my cheek.)
Come to find out, I was not the only one in the neighborhood who was a victim of the evil, angry, awful, flying, attacking, stinging, insects.
Apparently, another neighbor had removed a large hive from her backyard on Friday. By Saturday morning, the straggler bees, who quickly became aware their home and queen had been removed, joined forces and began running rampant throughout the neighborhood, attacking innocent bystanders, like me. They were mad.
It was Bee Against the World.
And, in my book, they won.
Below, is my face on Sunday morning, before heading out to church. My under-eye bag was even larger than its normal, puffy, red self.
No amount of concealer could cover the wound inflicted upon my face.
If you are brave enough, you can look below and see that even by Sunday night, after a long day at the baseball fields in over 100 degree weather, the after effects of the sting were still present. Maybe even more swollen.
By the way, these pictures do wonders for my self-esteem….
This Monday morning, I woke up, rolled over and wiped the sleep out of my eyes, only to notice my big, baggy, swollen eye, was not changed much.
So, as a last resort, I tried cold compresses. (Serving spoons placed in the freezer for a few minutes, then placed on the under-eye area.)
I guess it will just take a few more days for the poison from the bee sting to absorb into my face, and the swelling to subside.
Any suggestions on how I can speed up the process?
I am not a fan of the bee at the moment.
* I might be exaggerating a wee bit.
**Again, a slight exaggeration. But, only slight.
***Okay, maybe I didn’t say all those things, but I certainly thought it. I’m sure that in the heat of the moment, while I was unable to get the niceties out, in my heart, I felt it.
****I was dazed and confused. How could I possibly know how many times the bee attacked me? It all happened so fast…. Really, I think it was close to a hundred, but it could have been 7. Maybe.