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No, that’s not a typo up there. I really do mean boyfriends. And today is our second anniversary.
Our relationship isn’t conventional, but it’s not totally out of the ordinary either. We live together, we shop for groceries together, we take each other to doctors appointments and we go on vacation together. We have interests we share and hobbies we don’t. I cookout meals, Steven sews like a madman, and Michael is the handiest of men. We arent that different from other relationships. And we are polyamorous.
Though that was from a little while back, I was reminded that I’ve been meaning to do this when we were out at Fisherman’s Warf this weekend to celebrate. Michael and I both kissed Steven on the cheek when we went of in search of drinks and left him talking to a shopkeeper. Neither of us hesitated- it was completely natural- but I was reminded that people sometimes don’t think it’s normal by the look of surprise and confusion on the mans face as we walked away. We are fortunate that this is San Francisco and the man needed barely an explanation from Steven before he shrugged it off. We’re blessed to live in a place where we don’t usually risk violence by kissing the people we love in public, and where the looks of bemused acceptance so vastly outnumber confusion and disgust that I usually can’t remember the last negative reaction we’ve gotten.
The anniversary of meeting one of my two sweethearts was the perfect opportunity to come out to you, my readers. This is who I am. This is who I love. And I intend to keep them around as long as they will have me.
This is a brief update to my recent post, Covered in Bees.
I’m a bit late since this was a busy work week for me, but I really wanted to share a bit about my follow-up entree into the hive. As I mentioned before, I needed to go back in to place a new honey super and make room for the booming population in my small hive, and take advantage of the warm weather.
As it turns out, the nectar flow is in full swing! Even more so than I had originally anticipated. That seems to be the theme of the month when beekeeping is at hand. Last week I put two foundationless frames into my hive to replace the frames of honey I was removing. I also really wanted to see how my bees handled building natural comb. I pulled the outer of the two frames and say this:
I hadn’t expected the weight of it! It was totally drawn and already mostly filled with nectar on both sides with bees working away at it. I replaced both, replaced the excluder and stacked on a new box with some regular frames and some without foundation to see what they would do with it. I’m planning to go in three weeks from now to inspect and I’m hoping for an extraction in four.
The nectar must flow!
After work yesterday, I checked the weather and discovered it was still well above 60 degrees Fahrenheit. So, I rushed to my mother’s house and got geared up to go into my hive for the first time since last June. I had no idea what to expect, and I was going in alone. In the past, I’ve been the only person working on the hive, but have always had a remote helper to hand me tools from the patio, or take photos. This time no one was even home. I was pretty anxious, but deeply determined to go into my hive.
It was hard. I have an anxiety disorder and recently cut back on my medications in an effort to learn to cope without dampening all of my emotions. This was one hell of a test of those coping skills to be sure, and I’m very proud of myself for how well I did given the circumstances.
My original plan was to remove at least two frames of honey if they were doing well, replace those frames with empties, and add a queen excluder and honey super. I didn’t quite manage it, but I did fairly well I think, given my relative inexperience. Sadly, I crushed a far more bees than I would really like, and I’m still a little panicked that I could have possibly killed my queen. It’s very unlikely, but fear isn’t always rational and I’m so invested in this give that I think I would be devastated if I was responsible for its collapse.
The reason I wasn’t able to complete my mission is that I got stung, which spiked my adrenaline. At first that adrenaline was a much needed kick in the pants, and I pulled the frames I intended to remove and replaced them with blank ones. Unfortunately the adrenaline crash that followed, hit me hard. I got shaky and nauseous to the point that I had a hard time even putting the excluder on, and putting on the next box was just impossible. I decided the best thing I could do was to close everything up and wait until Friday to place the new box.
I’m glad I did too because my body was so overwhelmed by the chemical rush that I fell asleep on the couch right after getting my suit off, leaving my two precious frames of honey outdoors! Later, I went out to retrieve them and found them covered I bees, desperately trying to retrieve any honey they could despite it being after dark. One of the frames which had only been filled and capped on one side was light enough that I was able to bring in by myself. The other had to wait until my mother got home so I would have a second pair of hands to handle the heavy frame while I brushed all the bees off.
Now I have them uncapped on one side each, draining slowly into a big steel tray. I considered cutting out all the comb and crushing it to get my honey faster, but I just couldn’t bring myself to destroy all the hard work my bees put into building the comb. I’m hoping it will be drained by tomorrow so I can give my bees those frames right back… And because I want my honey!!
Now, I may be writing a very dry post about what I did, but I’m actually giddy at the prospect of having my own honey finally. These bees have had it all to themselves for a full year! I’m ready to get something back on my investment here and with the rate at which me and mine all suck down honey, I’m hoping for some really great harvests this year!
I just hope my new roommates don’t mind it too much. I just moved into a new house two cities over and I don’t actually want to drive my roommates nuts.
Despite odds being 50/50 for sex on chicks I’ve hatched myself, I always name them all with girls names. It’s my own bit of superstition, but genetics aren’t much influenced by superstition and as such in fairly certain I have two pullets and two cockerels.
And our bold young cockerels:
Milo (formerly known as Milla)
And Finally, Dame Edna (whose name doesn’t need changing)
Teenagers of all creatures look equally awkward. Add to it that Idris and Edna are surprise frizzles and the awkward trips from gangling into clownishly cute! I will be heartbroken if we end up needing to part with either Milo or Edna. They are mere weeks old, and they already feel like family.