Bees, Dogs… beedogs

I’ve been ‘Bee’ as long as I can remember. Hardly anyone uses my real name. Among those few; Mom, Tom (for the most part) my oldest friend Kitty uhhhh oh yeah my doctor… hmmmm my Kids.. oh wait they don’t count they call me Mom. Hmmm oh yes and my lovely Mother-in-Law. Yep I think that’s it.

How I got my nickname originally is a “painful” (heehee) story of my youth.

As a little girl my Mother liked to dress me in little girlie-girl dresses. You know the whole short puffy skirt, full on white tights and mary-jane shoes deal. Being a kid that liked to climb trees and dig in mud etc it wasn’t the ideal outfit to be wearing to enjoy those and other outdoor activities. (Side note, anyone who’s seen “A Christmas Story” remember the little brother who’s so bundled up on a snow day that he can’t put his arms down or get up when he falls.. yep that was me too)

Anyway.. it was a nice sunny Saturday and I was in the care of a friend’s Mom for the day as my Parents were out doing their regular shopping thing and I didn’t want to go. We regularly went down to a really full blackberry patch to pick the berries for jam that our Mothers like to make (hey it was free). A number of us were out competing for the best patches and in my haste to find the best one didn’t use the sense that I was given to yanno, maybe look before I leaped and I disturbed a nest that was below the brambles. I believe they were hornets but I didn’t wait to fully identify them.

I guess to my benefit I didn’t do much but disturb the palace guards but they came out buzzin’ ready for a fight. The other children were farther away and when they heard me yell they looked over, saw what had gone down, and ran like hell (bastards). I wasn’t quite so lucky, even though I took off at a good pace, those lil suckers caught up with me and a few of them yes, flew up my skirt and stung me on my ass.

Flash forward a few minutes to me limping into my friends house, my friend talking a mile a minute to her Mother explaining what happened and her Mother looking over at my little sad tear stained face.

K’ imagine my humiliation to be then laying face down across her lap while she tried every single freaking one of those home remedies to treat ‘bee’ stings. Umm cold knife, butter, half an onion, lordy I forget all of them. I was ‘lucky’ I guess in that I *think* there was only one or two stingers that had broken off in my ass. I’m also lucky that I didn’t get stung as many times as I could have. I do remember having some trouble sitting down for a while after that.

Now, the nickname part? Well that came after that incident. See some of the boys figured out that when I was outside playing and they yelled ‘BEE!!!’ I would stand up, look around quickly and start flapping and screaming. Anyway it just stuck. Most people who call me Bee now or ‘B’ as I go by in the business world just think it’s short for Belinda, which yeah, I guess it is.

Anyway, it makes me laugh to look back on it, NOW, but at the time, yeah it didn’t.

I have a LOT of bee shite that people have bought for me over the years. That picture is one of my desk at work a few years back. I didn’t buy any of it. It’s packed away in boxes now as I passed into a more ‘clutter-free’ phase in life. That wasn’t it at it’s worst either. My desk had soo much Bee (and Pooh stuff) that it became a tour stop during new employee orientation. I’m sure these people thought I was a big weirdo…. haha. Yeah, ok, shut up.

Anyway, part of me still loves the bee stuff and I have a *few* little items here and there in my daily surroundings. I dressed my youngest Son up as a Bee twice for halloween (when he was too young to really object) and sometimes when I find something that is ‘bee related’ …Yes! I get a kick out of it…

Here is my latest find.A website called BEEDOGS!!! People who dress their dogs up in bee costumes and submit their pictures… gotta love it.

If you want to see it for yourself. click on the mortified doggy picture below.

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One Response to Bees, Dogs… beedogs

  1. Pingback: Americanuck » Blog Archive Can’t sleep, clown will eat me. «

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