"Was you ever bit by a dead bee?" redux

Slim: You have? Why don't you bite them back?
Eddie: That's what Harry always says. But I ain't got no stinger.
Let's go back in the Way Back Machine for a moment, all the way back to the early part of 2009 (I think - I'm getting old!), to when I met Doc's family for the first time.  We journey to the Bay Area for Doc's birthday, and I would be meeting not only his family, but most of his good friends.  I was anxious as to what they would think about me, this girl who stole their oldest son away to southern California.  I was dressed in a very cute short blue plaid skirt (this is important later).

Doc and I arrived at the Hayward BART station in the evening, met by two of his long-time friends Tim and Cat. Doc and I and all of our luggage piled into the back of their car.  About 2 or 3 minutes in to the drive, the back of my upper thigh began to sting and hurt.  I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to be that whiny, high-strung girlfriend.  It hurt more and more over the course of the short ride to his parents house.  By the time we stopped I was in such pain that I had to run into the house, bypassing greetings and pleasantries, and go straight to the bathroom to see what was going on.  Much to my chagrin, I was too short to see my legs in the bathroom mirror.  Embarrassed, I had to leave the bathroom, and ask Doc to follow me and inspect the area.  His mother was going to think I was crazy.

Come to find out, I had sat on a dead bee in the back of the car, and I somehow managed to get stung.  By a dead bee.

Fast forward to St. Louis, MO, 18 march 2012.  When we arrived, we were able to stop in on Doc's Great Uncle James.  James runs a NC-style bbq joint in the city.

 We had a lovely dinner, drank beer, and discussed business.  James is a wonderful man.  He kept trying to convince us to stay, and I intending on taking him up on that offer when we go back through.  We did avail ourselves of his shower, however.  In the guest bathroom, getting ready to shower, I stepped on something hard.  I pick my foot up, and what do I see?  A dead bee.  Sigh.


  1. Mina, Tim and I didn't want to tell you at the time, but that was our PET BEE. His name was Fuzzy and he would ride with us everywhere and make us honey when we were sick. We loved him dearly.