Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Bee Obsessed

When I was accepted to the Apprentice Beekeeper section of Oregon State University's Master Beekeeper program I started saving up to buy equipment. While compared to say, scuba diving, bee keeping isn't that expensive of a hobby, it was still pushing my cookie jar budget to pick up all the gear needed to get started.

Fast forward through some job changes, income changes, and other boring adulty stuff, the cookie jar was rather empty but for a few crumbs down at the very bottom. All that responsibility was starting to get to me, some days I really hate being a grown-up. But today I went to Craigslist.

Oh yes, Craigslist. The never ending yard sale of everyone else's stuff just waiting to be found. I love used stuff, and re-using stuff, and up-cycling stuff and down-cycling stuff, and all the other turn-trash-into-treasure-ing stuff there is. In fact, as I look around my house, the majority of our stuff was found on Craigslist, including my car, the chickens, and most of the furniture. I love that site.

So, there I was, mindlessly surfing Craigslist while waiting for Tapdole to wake from her nap. Wait, I mean, I was constructively searching internet resources for miscellaneous random items to avoid manipulating laundered garments. Why can't socks just fold themselves?? Lo and behold, there in the Garden section were two bee hives. Someone had donated two full setups to the local Habitat REStore and the price for everything was well within my crumbly budget.

Queue panic attack.

See, I live in the next town over. The small town. The one that has a 20-30 minute drive, if the traffic is good and I don't get stopped by the train before getting to the Habitat REstore. And the ad had already been up for 40 minutes. And there's a town full of other hippy urban farmers who also want to have bees, who are also on a budget, who live a 10 minute bike ride away from the store. I know, I met them in bee class.

Also, Erik had the car.

Frantic texting followed with me forcefully telling my husband ignore Munchkin's martial arts class and rush over to the store, NOW, before someone snagged the hives. These texts were met with such replies as "LOL" and "no one is stealing your boxes" and "we'll go after class". Is there anything more stressful than a husband who does not understand that TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE?

Thankfully, right about the time I was going to start using the special characters keyboard, some friends of ours arrived and Erik was willing to let them supervise Munchkin's class while he went to the store. (I owe them some honey, assuming I have a harvest. I'm sure they think I'm totally bonkers, if they didn't already). 

We are now the proud owners of two sets of these:

Yes, one setup is in my front room just so I can oogle it.

Now I just need some bees. #beeobsessed

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