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It is done. The hives are moved, the first two hives have been unsealed. Somewhere around dawn, hubs and I will drive off into our future, leaving his family legacy to be packed by hired hands and carted off to ... Well... We are okay letting that be none of our business. Great-grandfather knows best. We have bees to tend. Literally minding our own beeswax.
This morning finds me flashing back to the endless moves of my childhood. The flashback trigger is no great mystery to me. I have a small Uhaul of bee and plant stuff parked in the driveway and a wise great-grandfather wanting me to cherish an 18-wheeler full of precious items he and great-grandmother carefully selected for "our prosperity." Whatever they promote during the parental gang-bangs, the general consensus I subscribe to is, "Shop-a-holic." I am equally likely to cherish my own father's beer bottles.
One of the most common of the shiny new buildings popping up like mushrooms on the Boom prairies of Texas are storage complexes. Those Stuff Mausoleums have a very special place in my personal herstory. People cemeteries hold allot of human history and are among the places you will find me scouting on my road trips. Stuff Mausoleums??? I just don't get it. They strike my senses as toxic mold factories.
The special place in my personal herstory which these storage complexes has for me is a job I so often seem to get stuck with in the course of my community service: "Throw Away Nazi." Anywhere from sorting donations for a foreign mission to rescuing hermit missionaries to aiding a single mother in crisis, there always seems to be endless piles of stuff that are not really functional to anyone and there is never enough room to transport all of it. Every so often, the "Throw Away Nazi" job has taken me into one of those "Stuff Mausoleums." Shiver me timbers!!!
Kinda wondering if "Throw Away Nazi" should become an official job title.
Just rambling. No real point here. Just trying to bring order to move frazzled neurons.. Thanks for letting me sort.
This morning finds me flashing back to the endless moves of my childhood. The flashback trigger is no great mystery to me. I have a small Uhaul of bee and plant stuff parked in the driveway and a wise great-grandfather wanting me to cherish an 18-wheeler full of precious items he and great-grandmother carefully selected for "our prosperity." Whatever they promote during the parental gang-bangs, the general consensus I subscribe to is, "Shop-a-holic." I am equally likely to cherish my own father's beer bottles.
One of the most common of the shiny new buildings popping up like mushrooms on the Boom prairies of Texas are storage complexes. Those Stuff Mausoleums have a very special place in my personal herstory. People cemeteries hold allot of human history and are among the places you will find me scouting on my road trips. Stuff Mausoleums??? I just don't get it. They strike my senses as toxic mold factories.
The special place in my personal herstory which these storage complexes has for me is a job I so often seem to get stuck with in the course of my community service: "Throw Away Nazi." Anywhere from sorting donations for a foreign mission to rescuing hermit missionaries to aiding a single mother in crisis, there always seems to be endless piles of stuff that are not really functional to anyone and there is never enough room to transport all of it. Every so often, the "Throw Away Nazi" job has taken me into one of those "Stuff Mausoleums." Shiver me timbers!!!
Kinda wondering if "Throw Away Nazi" should become an official job title.
Just rambling. No real point here. Just trying to bring order to move frazzled neurons.. Thanks for letting me sort.
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Just wanted to give a thank you to Mid, Arfie, Malibumark, Greeneyes, Mlro, Girlincalif, and Suncloudjd! You all always have such helpful tips and advice, but I always forget to write on my posts when I see you post, lol. I would lose my head if it wasn't attached to my body, lol. Thank you all so much! I'm starting to use my AI app as a sounding board again. I used to use it as that before...
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Hey all, i know its been quite awhile since i posted on here. Its been a summer all right. Its been something else........... You know how they say not to open the can of worms? Well a few months ago i decided to find out what my due date would have been for my first baby, the one conceived by r***. My baby would have been due on March 4th of 2006. They would be 20 years old. I was R**** on June...
And storage facilities scare the sh*t outta me. For many reasons. 1. Silence of the Lambs film. I saw that movie and now imagine bodies are in every single dang unit. 2. They're just cemeteries for inanimate objects. Creepy effing concept. Useful short-term, as I've had to use one to stow construction supplies for a job, but years and years? Uhhh.... and 3. they take up enormous amounts of useful farmland for no better reason than, well, hyper-consumeristic weirdness. Personally, I think the darn things should be built like parking garages, or underground or something, if you gotta have 'em, just so there's no wasted *farmland*. ...
So there's my rant on them... pointless, ridiculous, fill-in-blank-ous, but it's early....
Prayers and support for a smooth and easy relocation. :-)
I'm glad for so many things we have in common at DS PTSD, but here I've found another one. That our dysfunctional families were nomads. Me, too. Growing up we moved 13 times in 12 years of school in 3 countries.
Talk about storage spaces. Yeah.
Funny story: because my family's job was to be foreign missionaries, we sometimes were on the receiving end of other people's donated stuff. One time we received a barrel from a church that traveled 6,500 miles to us in Uruguay. When we opened it, it was all used tea bags, tea bags that church volunteers had labeled individually one at at time
"once used, twice used, thrice used."
I kid you not.
The bees are looking good in their new home. They are still in shock and disoriented, but they have already established a route to the nearby Brushy Creek. IH35 is the main highway in Austin. We are calling the route between the new bee yard and the creek, "B35." Setting up the hives coincided with the delivery of a dozen goats who are also still in shock. Girl howdy, we got some punny potentials growing...