Day before yestetday I disturbed a hive of ground-dwelling bees when I sat down to put my shoes on. Apparently, I put one of my feet over their doorway and they took umbrage. Suddenly, I had several electric-like pains in both ankles.
Latching onto my socks, they wailed away on me. Flailing madly, I ran around the van and plucked my towel from the sideview mirror where it was drying and tried to fend 'em off. They got in a few more on my legs and arm.
In the van I had to leave the window open to let the hangers-on out. This also meant shooing the rear guard who came to make sure I'd been vanquished.
As I watched them crawl back into their hole, I thought of Jozien, the beautiful Dutch woman I met in the Yukon who used to hike with nothing but bear spray strapped to her hip. "Do not blame the bear," she said.
I hurt like hell the rest of the day. The "venom" aggravated the post-shingles neuropathy and both feet went numb.
Yesterday was a "good" day and I had my first decent amble in days if not weeks. The stings started to itch but some calamine lotion helped.
I moved camp to a turnout in Elliot State Forest. As I was about to assume the position on the settee, seven, count 'EM, SEVEN cars came by...possibly a tour. Bare-bottomed, I sat on the roadside tuff in their dust. TRAFFIC! Frequently clothesless, it was early & still cool so I at least had on a shirt.
In need of meds, I headed to Coos Bay's Walmart. Today was the North Bend Library book sale and I scored big. It took a couple of hours, but I came away with 9 books including this....
She's holding the glass with her foot.
Interestingly, many of the women (in the book) have unusually attractive faces.
I was reminded of a student I met in my early days at the College of Education. It was hard to tell the nature of her body's physiognomy, but it appeared quite twisted. From what I could see, her hips and legs were rotated from her torso. She had a lovely, elfin face; her black hair was short and feathered in a way that accentuated her dark eyes and high cheekbones. She'd appear at my desk at random times, her motorized wheel chair silent on the carpeted floors. She could barely move her hand and used a single finger to key words into a keyboard that "spoke" in an electronic voice.
To save her from the exertion of using the keyboard, I did my best to understand her. But she only came a few times and I wasn't able to learn her language.
One day she came and told me she was pregnant. I didn't know what to say and asked her how she was going to raise the child. I never saw her again.
Now, thirty-five years later, the woman on the cover revived my memory of her. And I still wonder what motivated her to tell me.
