Robert's induction into the "Brotherhood of Venom".
Today was one of those days that have me leaping out of bed so glad to be alive -- and experiencing some other day than one like today.
The day began with Daniel shouting that we all needed to get up go outside and look at the beehive, which had tipped over and broke. He followed it up with all the reasons why this was not his fault, and how the beehive needed to be fixed that very moment. I followed up with the concept that the bee stand had been a nice bit of home craftmanship, but I'd worried about it last year -- and had been very insistent that it had to be replaced for three months now -- the problem being that the maker's feelings were hurt that I didn't like it.
The conversation for a while was less than productive, and about as unhappy in the house as the bees were in the yard. Right then -- yes -- Robert had a job interview, so I pushed him out the door and dealt with the other two people in the house. As far as the bees,there wasn't much to do. They were upset and people were going to deal with it. The only question was who and how much, and if we would have to chase a swarm of vacating bees. The air full of bees from an accident sounds very different from a swarm or from smoked bees -- you could hear the high whine all the way to the frontdoor.
Robert seemed to be the person to do the heavy work, since he had been the one to insist that his construction worked properly, so we talked it out -- move deliberately, don't stop even if stung, let your partner (me) know before you do anything, don't yell and don't stamp your feet. In the excitement I made my first mistake -- since he was in a hurry he did not put on his boots and rubber bands around the cuffs. He chose to wear black socks with black rubber birkies. We went out there, smoked (for all the good it would do) and set to work. I made my second mistake. I had told him just get the sections on top of each other .
People who have autism like to line things up, and he stopped piling sections quickly and firmly to sliiiiiiiiiide them into proper order."No, no, no!" I yelled (a lot of calls to stop and etc.) He said, "The books say to slide on the sections!" Then he began to make deep bellowing argh noises as the bees found his ankles, and Robert then began the "I'm getting stung" dance. I was prepared for him to make a run for the house but not that he would get focused on lining up the hive sections properly in the middle of a cloud of angry bees.
Except for the lining things up neatly part, the taking garb shortcuts part,and the bellowing and flapping part -- no stings. The hive is together, he got fifteen stings around his ankles, the bees are on a slab with a commercially made cedar stand on order.
Needless to say that pretty much put Robert out of commission for the day and the work he was supposed to do others had to (picture a good deal of grumbling from the two who had to do his work and their own), and my work for the day didn't get started much less finished. That was the morning. The evening was when I dropped Nicholas off to his part-time job.
At the point where I was to pick him up I reached for my belt to call him -- no phone. I first knocked on the door, then did my best to "shake out a coke can" with some serious pounding -- no response. Thinking to myself -- "My son isn't at his work, my phone is gone, little did I know that this morning was going to be the good part of this day". I go back and retrace my steps looking for my phone. After a good long search -- nothing -- and by chance I meet up with a uniformed officer at one of the stores who is unconcerned that Nicholas didn't open a door and let me in -- Nicholas isn't missing at least until I go back and look again.
I try to breathe, remember he didn't come when I called when he was little. He might have some reason to not come to a door being pounded on, to be in a darkened building not making any sounds. After an hour more waiting in the parking lot Nicholas pokes his head out the door and asks why I haven't called. He had heard me beat on the doors (twice), he's hard of hearing and thought that sound was the city was setting off fireworks. He had been playing his Nintendo DS for all that time waiting for my phone call.
We backtrack and he finds my phone in the watermelon bin. It must have looked like a small, silver watermelon when I looked earlier. I am driving home. I have Nicholas, he is fine and well. My bees are in the hive, my husband is punctured but well, my phone is back on my belt, and 95% of why I am so very happy is that of all the endangers of this day, I still have in my car -- Nicholas.
JulieB
Today was one of those days that have me leaping out of bed so glad to be alive -- and experiencing some other day than one like today.
The day began with Daniel shouting that we all needed to get up go outside and look at the beehive, which had tipped over and broke. He followed it up with all the reasons why this was not his fault, and how the beehive needed to be fixed that very moment. I followed up with the concept that the bee stand had been a nice bit of home craftmanship, but I'd worried about it last year -- and had been very insistent that it had to be replaced for three months now -- the problem being that the maker's feelings were hurt that I didn't like it.
The conversation for a while was less than productive, and about as unhappy in the house as the bees were in the yard. Right then -- yes -- Robert had a job interview, so I pushed him out the door and dealt with the other two people in the house. As far as the bees,there wasn't much to do. They were upset and people were going to deal with it. The only question was who and how much, and if we would have to chase a swarm of vacating bees. The air full of bees from an accident sounds very different from a swarm or from smoked bees -- you could hear the high whine all the way to the frontdoor.
Robert seemed to be the person to do the heavy work, since he had been the one to insist that his construction worked properly, so we talked it out -- move deliberately, don't stop even if stung, let your partner (me) know before you do anything, don't yell and don't stamp your feet. In the excitement I made my first mistake -- since he was in a hurry he did not put on his boots and rubber bands around the cuffs. He chose to wear black socks with black rubber birkies. We went out there, smoked (for all the good it would do) and set to work. I made my second mistake. I had told him just get the sections on top of each other .
People who have autism like to line things up, and he stopped piling sections quickly and firmly to sliiiiiiiiiide them into proper order."No, no, no!" I yelled (a lot of calls to stop and etc.) He said, "The books say to slide on the sections!" Then he began to make deep bellowing argh noises as the bees found his ankles, and Robert then began the "I'm getting stung" dance. I was prepared for him to make a run for the house but not that he would get focused on lining up the hive sections properly in the middle of a cloud of angry bees.
Except for the lining things up neatly part, the taking garb shortcuts part,and the bellowing and flapping part -- no stings. The hive is together, he got fifteen stings around his ankles, the bees are on a slab with a commercially made cedar stand on order.
Needless to say that pretty much put Robert out of commission for the day and the work he was supposed to do others had to (picture a good deal of grumbling from the two who had to do his work and their own), and my work for the day didn't get started much less finished. That was the morning. The evening was when I dropped Nicholas off to his part-time job.
At the point where I was to pick him up I reached for my belt to call him -- no phone. I first knocked on the door, then did my best to "shake out a coke can" with some serious pounding -- no response. Thinking to myself -- "My son isn't at his work, my phone is gone, little did I know that this morning was going to be the good part of this day". I go back and retrace my steps looking for my phone. After a good long search -- nothing -- and by chance I meet up with a uniformed officer at one of the stores who is unconcerned that Nicholas didn't open a door and let me in -- Nicholas isn't missing at least until I go back and look again.
I try to breathe, remember he didn't come when I called when he was little. He might have some reason to not come to a door being pounded on, to be in a darkened building not making any sounds. After an hour more waiting in the parking lot Nicholas pokes his head out the door and asks why I haven't called. He had heard me beat on the doors (twice), he's hard of hearing and thought that sound was the city was setting off fireworks. He had been playing his Nintendo DS for all that time waiting for my phone call.
We backtrack and he finds my phone in the watermelon bin. It must have looked like a small, silver watermelon when I looked earlier. I am driving home. I have Nicholas, he is fine and well. My bees are in the hive, my husband is punctured but well, my phone is back on my belt, and 95% of why I am so very happy is that of all the endangers of this day, I still have in my car -- Nicholas.
JulieB
posted by JulieB at
10:37 PM
1 Comments:
I'm still working on the idea, seeing if I can improve the process of beekeeping. Right now I'm tinkering around seeing if I can extract honey quickly and more cleanly using a laundry wringer.
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JulieB, at 3:35 PM
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