The Bee

This weekend I made a realistic to-do list, and Matt and I did nearly everything on the list. Even though it was "realistic," the tasks were not small ones.

I had to tutor a student, go to my office for a couple hours, cash checks at the bank, and jog a couple miles. Check, check, check, check. Matt and I cleaned the kitchen, used 1/2 of all the ground cherries from Thorncrest Farms in salsa, and rode 21 miles on the Cannon River Trail. I know, impressive, right?

On top of all that, we followed through on eating one of the three melons we got this week, fixed the screen that our beloved Bernie busted through, and made banana bread cupcakes for 31 teenage boys.

So, when late afternoon came around, and I wanted to take a break, I did. I got myself a beer and a book, and I went outside to sit on our patio. I hooked the dogs up so they could enjoy the weather too --- winter's coming to Minnesota very soon, and we want to hold onto every moment of late summer. Immediately, a bee started hovering around my Corona (probably the lime's fault). Thinking I was smarter than him, I sprayed myself with bug spray and opened my book. Happily, I took a swig of my beer...

... and found myself with the bee in my mouth. He panicked, I'm sure, and stung me inside my upper lip.

So much for a well-deserved rest!

When I posted this as my status update, a friend of mine responded. She and I recently and unexpectedly lost a very good friend, a friend who was well-known for her mishaps. Andrea simply wrote, "that sounds like a Kristen story."

And then I smiled, and I didn't really mind having a swollen lip anymore because I knew Kristen would have just toasted her Corona and enjoyed the moment, mishap and all.