bunnies!

As a kid I loved Easter because I got to wear a new pretty dress, open an Easter basket that was as tall as I was, and hunt for Easter eggs. Now that I’m 20 years old, I wear a new pretty outfit, open a few small gifts, and I still hunt for Easter eggs! My boyfriend and I started a tradition on our first Easter together. We each set up an Easter egg hunt for the other and it’s a ton of fun. This year I found all of my eggs at record speed! Another part of Easter that I have come to appreciate, and love, is going to the morning Mass at the nearby St. Dominic’s. Even though the church has standing room only (and hardly any as a matter of fact) since Easter is the day that every Catholic goes to mass, I love the music, the homily, and how dressed up everyone gets.

Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful Easter with your own traditions.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

I DO NOT LIKE BEES! Sure, cartoon bees are cute and happy…but one real life bee just stung me! Grrr. Luckily, I’m not allergic, so I am going to live. Let me explain how it happened:

I was in my friend’s room and there was a bee that kept flying into the light. Our lame, but brilliant at the time, idea was to open the door, turn on the hallway light, turn off the bedroom light, and watch as the bee flew out of his room into the hallway. We would then be able to lead the bee outside. Yeah…right. The bee must have been frightened or something, but once the lights went off in the room I felt it land on my arm and then I felt the sting. It hurt! I screamed and ran into the hall. The bee was still on my arm, so I flicked it off. It was weak…sucker. My boyfriend squished that little punk. (Sorry if any of you have a problem with that.)  The stinger was still in my arm, so Joey pulled it out for me and then cleaned the area with an alcohol pad.  It was swollen for a while, but the swelling did go down and now I have two fully functioning arms again.

So, next time you think bees are great for making honey, remember this…they sting!  Here’s a little song I remember about bees:

 

I’m bringing home a baby bumblebee; won’t my mommy be so proud of me?

I’m bringing home a baby bumblebee; OUCH! – It stung me!

I’m squishing up my baby bumblebee; won’t my mommy be so proud of me?

I’m squishing up my baby bumblebee; I’m all dirty!

I’m wiping off my baby bumblebee; won’t my mommy be so proud of me?

I’m wiping off my baby bumblebee; I’m all clean!