Post # 60: Buying Bees 25 years later

With my first bit of research, I learned that I wanted to buy a “Package” of bees.  I had bought my queens from Weaver Apiary back in the 1980’s, and so I had some trust in the name (see posts 49 & 50).  Well, actually, it was the only place I knew of that sold bees.  I hadn’t really researched other options.

The Weaver Apiary had, like bees often do, swarmed and split into two or three different apiaries.  There was BWeaver and RWeaver in Navasota.  And I think there is a third Weaver in Arizona. 

I went online and researched the new apiaries.  I settled on the one that was the direct descendant of old man Weaver; RWeaver.  When I bought a queen back in the 1980’s, I bought a queen who was supposed to be calm and friendly.  The last thing I wanted was a cranky old bee.  So I bought a bee that was from the “Buckfast” line of bees.

Well, fast forward a few decades, and we now have bees that are so intermixed, it is difficult to know whether the bee is truly from one line of bees or another.  Apparently queens are not picky when it comes to choosing mates.  She may go out on a mating flight only once, but when she does, she mates with a lot of different fellas.

In recognition of the wanton ways of queen bees, RWeaver has named one of their lines of bees the “All-American” bee.  I pictured her wearing Superman tights and a red white and blue cape flowing down her back.

I went to Package Bees, selected the All-Americans and got set to click on the Order button.  There were options.  When would I like to get my bees?

Well, today of course!  I’m ready right now.  It was January when I was looking at the site. 

I clicked on the drop-down box and the earliest date available was …

April. 

Really? 

I had to make my first phone call to RWeaver.  I quickly learned that everybody at RWeaver works with the bees.  The receptionist was out in the field and asked if I could call her back on Monday, when she’d be in the office working on orders.

I waited until Monday and called: “Are you sure I can’t get my bees any sooner?” 

“No, they won’t be ready.” 

“Sigh, ok.” And I hung up.

Being the impulsive guy that I am, I went back onto the computer and ordered the package of bees.

“OK,” I thought to myself, “this gives us some time to dig into research and learn everything there is to know about beekeeping before they arrive.”

If only it were that simple!

 

Life Lessons from Dogs, Bees and Others.: Post # 59: 25 years later and we’re back to bees

Life Lessons from Dogs, Bees and Others.: Post # 59: 25 years later and we’re back to bees: One of the great things about Wife is her incredible Green Thumb!   She started planting vegetables when she was seven.   She started off ...

Post # 59: 25 years later and we’re back to bees

One of the great things about Wife is her incredible Green Thumb!  She started planting vegetables when she was seven.  She started off with radishes, a vegetable she doesn’t really even like to eat.  But they grew, and they grew large, and they grew in a plot of dirt that didn’t seem to want to grow anything but sticker-burrs before Wife came along.

Every apartment and every house we’ve lived in Wife has managed to have a garden.  Even if it was just a couple of tomato plants.  Her only unsuccessful garden was the year she planted one tomato.  That was the year that she realized even tomatoes need love.  Without another plant nearby, there was nothing for her poor plant to pollinate with.

Our little garden in the back yard of our current house has now tripled in size and has become a raised garden.  Last January, while we were discussing the next Spring garden, Wife made the comment that her garden would do a lot better, would produce more tomatoes and more vegetables, if only we had some bees.

Well, I admit I was very interested in getting back into the bee business.  Wife might tell you that I was on the phone ordering bees and hives before the words left her mouth.

But, that’s an exaggeration. 

I’m sure it was at least ten minutes before I was pressing the “Buy” button on the computer.

Buying a box of bees was a new experience for me.  For my first experience, the bees were free and all I had to buy was the queen.  I knew you could buy bees.  I didn’t know that they are called a “Package” of bees.

When you order a Package of bees, they come in a big wooden box with screened sides.  There is also a Queen in a cage and a can of sugar water to keep everyone happy and well fed.  When the package arrives you just pour the bees out of the package and into your hive. 

It’s all very safe.  I know it must be, because you can watch YouTube videos of people pouring their bees into their hive without the benefit of a bee suit or veil.  I guess the guys who get stung doing this don’t put their videos on YouTube.

Oh, and once the bees are in the hive, you add the queen (without feeding her to the ants).  Don’t forget the queen.

I placed my order in January.  The online forms said couldn’t have our bees until the end of April. 

That gave me way too much time to research bees and bee equipment.

And I’m learning that there is way too much that I still don’t know about bees!

Post #58: Death Expectancy

I am now one year away from the U.S. Government’s demarcation for “Old Age.”

These days, however, when someone says they are 65 years old, people still tend to think of them more as “older middle aged” rather than old.  At age 65 we are expected to still be active, engaged with people, sociable, capable of hard work, and maybe having fun with a little bit of spare time.

Telling someone you are 70, however, brings about a different stereotype.  In just five years, we have gone from healthy and active to someone who is old.  And this stereotype is often true.  Seventy year olds tend to move more slowly than 65 year olds.  They tend to have more health problems.  And they tend to have fewer friends.  It’s not that people don’t like 70 year olds.  It’s just that a 70-year old’s friends have started dying off.

That’s another stereotype of the 70-year-old man or woman.  They tend to die during this decade.  They don’t die as often as in the past.  Still, when you hit your 70’s things turn around.  You no longer have a “life expectancy.”  You now have a “death expectancy.”

At 70, your employees begin to wonder how much longer they will have to work for you.  Your supervisees become hopeful that you will die and leave a higher paying vacancy for them to fill. 

At 70 relatives begin to calculate your net worth.  They worry about you having a lengthy illness that will eat up all of your investments.  They wonder how much like them, and what share of your legacy they will inherit.

Enemies start planning the celebrations they will have and how it will be to finally be free of their anger with you when you die in your 70’s.

A lot of people will be sitting around, waiting for you to die when you hit 70.

That’s a lot of pressure to put on a 70-year-old!  Thank goodness at 70 we usually have the time to take Yoga lessons, Thai Chi, or Meditation.  We can learn how to counter the pressure others are putting on us to die!

Then, one day we hit 80.  When that happens, we can not only celebrate our birthday, but we can also celebrate having disappointed all of those who were anticipating our death at 70.  This will likely launch a new round of death expectations.  “Surely,” everyone will be thinking without saying aloud, “he will die soon.”  Unfortunately, everyone thinking this has statistics on their side.  There are a lot fewer 80 year olds than 70 year olds. 

So, the waiting game starts again.  This time, however, it’s been 10 years, and a lot of those waiting for you to die when you were in your 70’s have themselves died.

For those of us who are truly competitive, there is the 90’s.  Once again, we will have frustrated those who predicted or anticipated our death during the 80’s.  The good news here is that more of these death expectant people are no longer around.  You beat them at their own game.  While they were waiting for you to die, they succumbed to death themselves.

The bad news is that by the time you hit your 90’s, the odds of surviving another decade have really turned against you.

The best you can do now is to enjoy every moment of your 90’s (and possibly 100’s), and keep everyone waiting for as long as you can.

Post # 57 First Adventures in Voice Technology

I was born in the Midwest, and moved around quite a bit as a child.  Mostly, I lived in states where the regional accent was benign.  There was very little to make fun of, as far as accent goes.  Maybe I picked up a few words that were worthy of a joke, but I’ll discuss that later.

Now I live in South Texas.  And there is a bit of an accent down here, but it isn’t really obvious.  Not unless you’re a machine, that is.

Voice Technology began creeping into our cars sometime back in the late 80’s or early 90’s.  I recall when everyone crowded around a colleague’s car because the car would talk to him.  If he left the door open, the car told him about it.  We’d go stand around his car during lunch and make him open and close the car door until the battery ran down.

Then I bought my first car with OnStar.  The OnStar lady (notice how it’s always a woman’s voice?) could tell me where I was going.  For an extra fee, she’d let me make phone calls from the car.

I don’t know how Wife felt about me inviting this new female into our home, but I do know she was against my paying out good cash just so I could call her from the car to let her know I was on my way home from work. 

I ordered the service, anyway.

And it was pretty cool.  All I had to do was remember the phone number I wanted to call and tell OnStar.  She’d dial the number for me, and soon I’d be chatting away as I drove down the highway.

It took a little encouragement to get Wife to try out OnStar.  She thought it might be dangerous to try to talk on the phone while driving (she always was ahead of the game when it comes to safety).

Finally, she gave in and gave it a try.

Wife was born and raised in South Texas.  She has the South Texas accent.  Unfortunately, OnStar doesn’t understand South Texas very well.

Wife started out fine.  The area code and first three numbers went smoothly.  Then she got to a number that OnStar couldn’t interpret.  OnStar asked wife to repeat the number.

Wife repeated the number.

OnStar repeated the wrong number and asked if that was correct.

Wife told her “No!”

OnStar asked wife to repeat the number.

The two of them carried on this same conversation eight or nine more times.

Each time, Wife’s voice got a little louder.

OnStar remained inscrutable. 

Wife got closer and louder.

OnStar continued to make demands for Wife to repeat herself.

Wife ended up traveling 30 miles an hour down the road with her mouth three inches from the mirror. Oh, and that safety thing?  She was traveling down the center stripe!

It didn’t matter how loud Wife yelled, how much she changed her accent, how slowly she spoke, or how close she got to the mirror.  OnStar refused to understand.

I don’t think Wife ever spoke to OnStar again.  OnStar knew Wife didn’t trust her, didn’t like her.  So OnStar rebelled.  OnStar pretended she wasn’t bothered by Wife’s distrust of her.  She maintained a seemingly calm demeanor throughout the episode.  Still, I think OnStar was a little shaken.  She was never quite the same after that.

I soon learned that I couldn’t trust OnStar when wife was in the car with me.  OnStar tried to make me drive through a building in downtown Dallas once so I could get to the other side.  The road ended in a T intersection, and the building was in front of me.  OnStar insisted I drive straight ahead, through the building!

Of course, Wife was with me.  I think maybe she was just being obstinate.  I may have even heard a little giggle in her voice as she kept insisting that the road was really there, all I had to do was trust her and drive straight ahead.  Across traffic.  Up the stairs.  Through the lobby.  And out onto the other side.

I learned not to ask anything of OnStar when wife was in the car.

Post #56 Time is Relative!

Well I really did understand that Red and I weren’t married.  I knew that Marryn’ Sam was a fraud.

Red and I dated throughout high school.  Then she went off to Texas Tech in Lubbock, while I went to college at Texas A&I in Kingsville.  The next semester, she went to a Junior College near home, and I stayed at A&I.  The following semester, Red went to the University of Houston, and I stayed at A&I.  She remained at the same university for two semesters in a row, so I followed her to U of H.  We continued dating while in college.

Red is smarter than I am.  And she proved it in college.  Not only did she get better grades, but she had enough sense to not lose any credits despite her multiple moves.  She even shifted majors, and was still on track for graduation after four years.

On the other hand, I managed to lose enough credits that it took me an extra year to graduate.

We dated.  We got serious.  And we talked about marriage.  Red told me she didn’t want to get married until after we had graduated.  I thought that was fine.  It would be better if we had jobs when we got married.

One day during the Fall semester, we were sitting on a bench under one of the trees on campus.  I could tell something was wrong with Red.  We talked, and I waited for her to tell me what was bothering her.  She pointed out that she was graduating after the Spring semester. 

I knew that. 

Then, she asked me when I was going to propose to her.

I was stunned.

Now, I confess that I am a person who is time challenged.  I know things are going to happen in the future.  I know they are happening right now.  And I know that some things happened in the past.  Just don’t ask me to get any more precise than that, or my circuits get overloaded.  I’ll get a blank stare on my face, look at my watch, search for a calendar, and hem and haw until I’m told when something is actually supposed to happen.

So, being stunned wasn’t so much about my needing to propose.  It was about not knowing that I was maybe supposed to have already done it. 

I had thought we would both graduate, and then I’d ask her to marry me. 

I also had no idea that engagements were supposed to be anything more than a couple of weeks long. 

How hard was it to have a wedding?  Go to church, invite your parents and two friends, and get married!

Red, bless her heart, is the queen of time.  She commands watches and calendars like a maestro commands his orchestra.  She knows within a minute how long it takes to get somewhere, what time an event is supposed to happen, and whether we’ll get lost on the way.

To her, I was already late.  Time was ticking down.  Once she explained that only one of us needed to be graduated, I was onboard.

Being a traditional kind of guy, I think I may have muttered some kind of agreement to her, and then remained silent.  She likely thought I was a lost cause.  Inside, I was trying to figure out how to get to her parents’ home four hours away to ask her dad for her hand and not be missed by her or miss classes.

I managed to drive the four hours to her folks that Saturday.  I arrived at her house, only to find it empty.  As I sat in the driveway, contemplating what to do next, Red’s parents pulled up.  It was a bit of a miracle, since they had been out of town on a trip, and I just happened to be there only minutes before they arrived.

Future Dad in Law was an intimidating man.  He was outspoken and blunt.  If he didn’t approve of something, he did not hesitate to let you know. 

After I hemmed and hawed a bit, I was finally able to tell her parents why I was sitting in their driveway.  Future Dad in Law agreed that I could marry Red. 

Another miracle!

Red and I had a favorite restaurant in Houston that was close to the university.  We went there almost every week.  So she wasn’t expecting anything when we went on our next date.

The waitress took our order and left.  Then I was down on one knee with the ring in my hand.  I asked her to marry me.

I think Red said something like “Get up!  What are you doing?”

...

And then she said “Yes!”

Time really is relative.  It seems to fly by more quickly than before. 

After 42 years of marriage and 47 years of dating, neither one of us really remembers life before we met.  Life before there was an US just really doesn't matter.

Post #55 Sadie Hawkins Day

I will be forever grateful to Al Capp and his comic strip “Li’l Abner.”  Al Capp invented what was probably the first women’s rights movement when he started Sadie Hawkins Day in his comic strip in 1937.

Let me offer a brief introduction for those of you too young to know about Li’l Abner, Daisy Mae, and Sadie Hawkins Day.  Daisy Mae was sweet on Li’l Abner, but Li’l Abner didn’t want to get married.  However, Daisy Mae had a chance to make Li’l Abner marry her every year on Sadie Hawkins Day.  This was the day of the great race, named in honor of a woman named Sadie.  Sadie was supposedly so ugly, that her daddy had to create the race just so she could catch someone and marry him.  On Sadie Hawkins Day roles are reversed, and women are put in control.

Every single woman in Dogpatch was given the power to marry the man of her choice on this day.  She just had to catch him and drag him to Marryn’ Sam.

This fictional holiday became popular across the country.  Universities, colleges, and high schools were offering Sadie Hawkins day races, followed by a dance.

I had just moved into this small South Texas town during the summer before my Senior Year in high school.  I was shy, and didn’t know anyone at the school.  I spent most of my time in Study Hall because I had more credits than I needed.  Since I didn’t know anyone, I spent my time reading novels or studying for my classes.

There was one cute red-headed girl in one of my study halls that mistook my time spent with my nose in books for intelligence.  She thought I was studious and probably nice.

To my amazement, she asked me if I would run in the Sadie Hawkins Day race and let her chase me.

This was my first experience with Sadie Hawkins.  I knew about the fictional race because I read the funnies.  But until this time, I didn’t know that schools were actually re-enacting the race.

This was also my first time to be asked out by a girl!  I didn’t think about my answer.  I just said “Yes!”

That Friday, I showed up in old clothes.  I think everyone was supposed to look like they lived in Dogpatch.  I’m sure whatever I wore wasn’t very convincing.

We all met at the football field, the boys lined up a couple of yards ahead of the girls.  The announcer gave us the “ready, set, go!” and fired the starter pistol.

I took off toward the other end of the field.  The whole time debating whether I was supposed to really try to escape, or just kind of act like I didn’t want to get caught.

That was silly!  Of course I wanted to be caught!

The chase was short.  I think I was a bit of a disappointment because I didn’t put up a fight or act very hard to get.  As Red and I walked back to start, I watched the others.  I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the guys were putting up such a fight!  I think some of them had to be tackled to the ground.  As I watched closer, I could tell the girls were getting really aggressive.  The guys didn’t have a chance.

After the race we all stood in a crowd around a platform that might have been the bed of somebody’s pickup.  Marryn’ Sam stood above the crowd and married all of us.  Just right then and there!  It was a mass wedding.

Red didn’t tell me until years later that it wasn’t for real.

I’m still married to her!