The Adventure Never Ends

Archived | September 6, 2013 | By

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Got caught up with end-of-summer chores much of the day, and the next day was the same. Sunday afternoon we were trying to shore up a rather steep incline with natural fill from a good day of yard work, and that’s when it happened. If you’re a person who feels compelled to assign blame I suppose you could say it was Mr. Sundberg’s fault for letting go of the terribly heavy bag of grass clippings as he tried to empty it, the bag promptly rolling down into the small ravine in the woods near the house. Others of you might say it was my fault for feeling compelled to retrieve the bag — sliding down through brambly growth in my Converse sneakers. Oh, gosh. Or you could say it was the bees’ fault. But bees are supposed to sting, especially when a woman comes out of nowhere and stomps on their home. I’ve moved that quickly only three or four times in my life, and if it weren’t for Mr. Sundberg reaching out for my hand and taking it and pulling me right on up, I could very well have woken up in a hospital Monday morning. Really, it was no one’s fault. It just happened.
Step on a beehive and you’re gonna get stung. I counted six stings, not so many: one on my left forearm; two on my right hand; three on my right calf. I’ve been stung before, but this time, for some odd reason, my body reacted. It puffed and swelled and itched like all getout. Mr. S got some ice and put it in a baggie and we sat here in the kitchen and talked and waited and watched as my arms expanded and my wrists and knuckles and veins disappeared. I took Benadryl, which made me so tired, but the swelling slowed and the baking soda paste helped and I went to bed early. Which is good because shopping last minute for composition notebooks and socks and bobby pins and a new cell phone just before dinner Monday night took a bit of composure and that’s what I managed to have, if only for a stretch of hours. Got the kids off to school Tuesday, and today I can see my knuckles and veins again, and mix up cookie dough without feeling as if my hands are balls of metwurst.
What I’ve learned with a bit of research is that this isn’t uncommon, for someone in the middle of the life-trip swelling up from a bee sting when in childhood there was no allergic reaction at all. Seems it can get worse as a person grows older, so “epi pen” is on my list, and so is a nice meal for Mr. Sundberg (I’ve not been able to cook up a storm), and a bottle of wine and some bakery cake for me because I turn a year older this week and it’s a good time to appreciate what I’ve got going, and that the adventure never ends. Just gets more interesting. Sure does.
Here’s what I’m makin’ for lunch sometime this weekend. The kind of meal you want to run inside for when you’re spending the day outside.
Creamed Chipped Beef on Toast
2 2 oz pkg sliced beef, cut up as you like
Cream sauce:
2 T butter
2 T flour
1½ cups milk
salt as desired
dash pepper
Melt butter in a small saucepan. Stir in flour, salt and pepper. Add milk all at once. Cook over medium heat until thick and bubbly, stirring all the while. Cook and stir one minute more. Serve over your favorite toasted bread.