Day 4 I have this reputation for obsessively diving headfirst into a hobby, collecting and acquiring everything that has to do with my current craze.
I went through a collectors phase (stamps, playing cards, and shoe figurines), and there was the music mania - the New Kids on the Block in the 80s and the Beatles in the 90s. There's also been card-making, jewelry-making, and a very close call with sewing.
I've learned to recognize the signs of early onset of these passions, and I am usually able to self-diffuse before it gets out of hand.
I'm afraid I feel a here-she-goes-again coming on. The train is gaining speed, but I have no intentions of slowing it down, let alone jumping off.
You've been warned.
I want to be a beekeeper.
It started when my friend casually mentioned that one of the best remedies for seasonal allergies is local honey. Fast-forward to my family's move to the country, giving us more space and possibilities for farming and gardening. I have started thinking, "I wonder what it would take to farm bees." The research has been encouraging - minimal start-up and maintenance. My obsession really started to kick into high gear as I began to understand the necessity for bees to our ecosystem in addition to learning that the bee population is on the decline.
In other words, I can harvest our own honey to combat my family's seasonal allergies for little cost and little effort while making a positive impact on the environment? Sign me up, honey.
I about fell over today when at the farmer's market in town I met a local bee farmer, and he said, "I've got this little situation called too much inventory, give me a call if you are interested in start-up equipment."
Um, will you marry me?
I mean, no.
I mean, yes, I'll call you.
I don't want to marry the bee farmer. I only want to be like him. Except less hairy. And less bees.
At least for now.
And don't you go rolling your eyes at me. Just you wait until next year when you are in the market for local honey and your friend Ali the beekeeper gives you the homegirl hook-up.
You're gonna want to be nice to me.
This bee thing, it's gonna be awesome.
Just wait until you try my honey.
Or my beeswax soap.
Or you see my honeycomb wall art.
What? It's called brainstorming.
It's not like I've scouted out our yard for beehive real estate or Google Earthed my new beekeeper friend's bee farm.
It's research, not stalking.
Look, there's a pretty good chance my family will never sneeze again. And I might just save the planet.
AND I GET TO DRESS LIKE AN ASTRONAUT ON SAFARI.
If nothing else, you just got to imagine an insanely entertaining visual at my expense. That alone is worth this whole bee thing.