Making Lemonade Like a Motherfucker

When I was little. Most likely around 6 or 7ish, I used to draw stories. There was a common theme to them and the characters were a poor turtle and a rich rabbit. 

The stories were heavily influenced by my life at the time and Oliver Twist, which I remember being fascinated with. The whole, poor boy found to be a rich kid, story line. 

I would sit for hours and draw those stories. Thinking back, it was a sign I think that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I think that I was always supposed to be a storyteller of some sorts. 

I remember the day that I stopped. I was made fun of for doing it and dropped my pencil for the next 30 years. 

I only wrote in my journal or when I was assigned to write a story. Those were pretty good and all, but I stopped writing for the pure enjoyment of it.

 I stopped making up stories in my head. 

I have only just recently started up again. 

It was fortunate I was in the neighborhood when my friend called to tell me what he had found when he got home from work.

I was actually just around the corner on my way to bring G to ballet.

I turned into the parking lot and found this.

It was a mess.. In my rush to get the bees back on their hive stand, I neglected to do several things.

I did not wear proper footwear. I kept the mary janes I had on, thinking it would be a quick in and out to tip the hive back.

I did not use smoke.

The bees got VERY defensive, stinging me on the foot several times and on the armpit, through my suit. 

They stung a poor woman who was standing by and watching. Right on the eyelid.

They went after my daughter, but I got her in the car before she got stung. 

I got them back upright and settled. They should be Ok. 

I am fairly certain is was a senseless act of vandalism that I believe happened because another beekeeper, who is keeping a hive at the property as a sort of emergency placement, placed his hive in view of the street.  

You kind of don't think someone would be so stupid as to kick over a large hive of bees, but now we know..

I had a few very "dark moments of the soul" when dealing with the mess, afterwards and at 3:00 this morning when I couldn't sleep because I had aches, chills and a swollen, burning foot. 

I wanted to give up. I wanted to give my hives away and end it. 

Having someone senselessly rip apart something I held so fucking dear to me was both heartbreaking and infuriating. 

But, the as the saying goes, "when life gives you lemons.."

I have reached out to a beekeeper in the area for help, especially when I am away, so there will be someone to take care of the hives if something like this happens again. 

I am going to get over my social issues and be more active with the local beekeepers association. 

I am not moving my hives. I am not going to stop gardening at that spot because of some stupid fucking groundhog and I'm not going to stop keeping my bees there because of some stupid fucking people. 

I have plans to ensure this doesn't happen again. I will continue, if for none other reason than to say FUCK YOU to all those people out there that want to destroy anything good that someone has worked hard for. 

Fuck you you assholes who kicked over my hive, I am standing my ground.

I'm going to make fucking lemonade like a motherfucker. 

And wish that God, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, would put Africanized bees in your underwear.

I am not going to quit.