Bee-Keeping!

As I mentioned in earlier blogs, I have kind of been going through a mid-life crisis.  I am 49 years old-yes this is my true age {although I once remained 33 for 6 years!}  I've raised 3 great kids, had a career for a while and still don't think that I have accomplished anything in my life.  I guess that translates--I HAVEN"T BEEN ON OPRAH!  I have been looking for some sort of new interest.  I have a hobby that I dearly love {shopping}but since I am on a budget and that doesn't include a new pair of shoes every day, I'm searching for some new projects that don't involve as much money.  People don't feel sorry for you if you stand at a busy intersection with a sign that says, "SHOE FUND!" I don't know why, but you get absolutely NO compassion.  Now if I was driving down the street and saw a woman begging for money for new shoes, I would nearly wreck my car pulling over to help the poor thing out.  Even if I had to go without a meal or two myself you just can't turn your back on a poor "need a new shoe fix" girl!  Im looking for new excitement in my life.  I mentioned earlier that  I wanted to have some bees and hives here on our 5 acres.  I recently questioned this decision when I found out what honey is---BEE BARF!  Kind of makes it less exotic doesn't it?  I decided to do some googling to find out what I could about it.  I found lots of websites on beekeeping with some excellent advice.  Some of my favorites were to find a good beekeeper and do everything they do or find a bad beekeeper and do just the opposite of everything they do.  One person asked, "Will I have to worry about my bees swarming and stinging the neighbors?"  I was more inclined to ask if my bees could be trained to swarm and sting the neighbors!  Did I say that?  Seven generations of southern belles just rolled over in their graves!  I've also thought of volunteering at a local antebellum plantation for tours of the home and gardens.  The problem is I want to do it right.  When you go to Natchez, MS for the Spring pilgrimage, all the southern belles are dressed up in their 1800's finery.  That just adds to the atmosphere!  Far be it for me to suggest that these women around here strut around like Scarlett O'Hara when they're showing off the "ole plantation home."  They just seem to think that taking visitors from room to room in a historical house is fine and dandy wearing blue jeans and a tee shirt.  My husband said to just ask them if I could wear authentic looking attire as I strut.  I'm afraid that I might appear to be a tad eccentric.  I worry about that often--appearing to be a tad eccentric that is!  I always tell my husband that I was born at the wrong time.  I should have lived in the 1800's, strolled around the veranda in my gown, carrying a parasol, sipping a mint julep, and smelling the jasmine in the breeze.  My husband always brings me back to reality by saying, "they didn't have air conditioning in the 1800's!"  The Lord knew what he was doing after all, huh?  I thought of volunteering some time at the local animal shelter but my dear, sweet husband has absolutely vetoed this idea. He says that  bringing home a new dog every day that I felt sorry for is even more expensive in the long run than buying shoes!  I like to watch the food network channel and try new recipes but as you found out in an earlier blog {Italian Fish in the Dishwasher} my recipes hardly ever turn out like theirs.  I'm not saying I'm not a good cook.  I can take a mean dish to the church potluck and have others ask for the recipe just like anyone else.  It's just when I try to be a Martha Stewart that there is usually a problem.  Namely I've set my kitchen on fire twice.  Once I was heating grease to fry chicken, and I decided I wanted this wonderful salad with the meal.  I just left the grease on the stove and went to Kroger's.  When I came home I kept hearing this weird noise.  We had a new car and I thought that the warning sound was coming from it.  I sat out in the carport for five minutes pushing every button to try and turn the noise off.  I finally went to the kitchen door and realized that the "weird noise" was the fire alarm and my kitchen wall behind the stove was flaming out 3 feet.  I've told you I was ADD.  The next time I was cooking bones for my dogs in the broiler.  I swear I didn't know that dogs would eat raw bones!  Anyway, another grease fire!  Then there was the time that I saw Martha using parchment paper for baking cookies!  I thought that wax paper was the same thing and set the oven on fire.  Well that didn't really count because it wasn't a true fire.  I mean unless the fire department has responded, your floors have 3" of water on them, your nostrils are black and you have to spend the next 6 weeks at the Holiday Inn, I don't think that it should count.  Do you?