Covered in bees and the magic finger of joy.

I've mentioned, in passing, that I was covered in bees before covered in bees was cool. And I will now tell as much of that story as I can remember.

When I was a small child, falling asleep, I thought I saw bees next to me on the pillow. They weren't moving or obviously bees or anything, but I *knew*. I made my mom come fix things, and I tried to show her the dark spots, but they weren't there anymore.

Just for the record, I do not frequently hallucinate. Occasionally I have a strange expectation that manifests itself as the certainty that I am not alone, until I wake up and find out it was just a nightmare. Or a dream, when I imagined my old boyfriend was standing outside my bedroom door for some reason. Then waking up was the nightmare! but I digress.

Bees.

Sometime in the 90's, I went to Louisiana to visit my father for Thanksgiving. When I came back, I found a bee in my room. I looked around, and my room was covered in bees! Actually, they were hornets, but I didn't know that until later.

I inaccurately accused my housemate of pulling a horrible awful prank, and we eventually determined that the cold snap had driven hornets to find a slightly warmer place to hide than the bush outside my bedroom window, where they had apparently been living. It was still plenty cold in my room, so they were all hibernating. They did not come to a good end, but seriously, what did they expect? Not every place of refuge is as safe as the nest you make yourself.

I think the next thing is the dress I made myself, out of bee fabric. I was literally covered in bees. I may have gotten this out of order, but I don't know if I made the bee dress while I was in college, or later, when I started quilting. I still have the dress! And it fits, again. But the background color for the bees is a little bit too low-contrast with my milky white flesh, so I want to add a high-contrast trim.

And in the final story of bees, my brother kept bees. He did not keep them very well, but he wasn't in tip-top shape anymore. While I was out gathering eggs one day, I said to myself, "that's a funny sound," and looked up from my normal introspective trance.

BEES EVERYWHERE! SWARMING ALL AROUND ME! I was not brave, I just dropped to the ground, flat on my back, and watched the bees get their act together to move to a new home. Eventually they went away. Eventually I crawled up off the ground, and went on with my life. I saw another bee hive swarm this summer, in my new backyard. It's kind of amazing, but the bees are, as always, not that concerned with anything other than bees.

So I have been covered in bees since way back when, and it's kind of an in-joke with everyone who has ever seen me in that dress.

I have also pretended, on many occasions which are totally rated G, to have a finger of joy. I can't remember why. Usually I try to turn that frown upside down, but I am very judicious in this use, because if the finger of joy ever does not work, I am sure it will be broken forever. And sometimes people want to hold on to that frown.

And I try not to be bitter. I try really hard, over and over and over about all sorts of things that happen to me, and to other people. Yesterday, I was very bitter that Steve Jobs died. Mostly that everybody in the world is sad or has whatever mixed feelings that they have about it. I am glad Steve Jobs was born.

But I have snapped, and the bitterness load I have been carrying broke me. Again. And I tried to find a silver lining. And I have. But it is hard to explain, in words.

But the strange certainty that I am not alone seems less strange every day.