The first time I felt the STING

When you look at this pictures, what do you see? If you say a kick-stand, then you are a boring person. I look at it and I see a weapon. Anything can become a weapon, but not everything can become a prehistoric tool for destruction.

When I lived in Rigby, ID (ages 0-5) I loved to play with the kick-stand from my mom's old bike. For some reason it was off the bike and in our back yard. When I placed that piece of metal in my hand, I became a cave man. This shiny thing was my club.

One day I went into the back yard to find my club. I didn't have to search far nor long, because is was sitting right outside of the back door. I reached down to grab "artifact", anticipating the transformation of body and personality. As my fingers curled around the shaft of the "club" a firery sensation burned my hand. It wasn't because the kick-stand was hot, it was due to the yellow-jacket with whom I tried to shake hands.

That was the first time I got stung by a bee. I don't know how old I was, but I do know that I was 5 or younger. My mom dumped Arm & Hammer baking soda onto my hand, this was the coolest part of it all. After it dried on my hand, it started to crack and I couldn't help but look at the cool patterns made as I opened and closed my hand.