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I have hikes and photographs, mornings in the Glen gardens and lightening bolts that could destroy the MidWest. But Colorado’s most mysterious, slightly painful, and sure-to-make-you-laugh story to date is about sitting on the living room couch and how there was a bee in my pants.

It all started yesterday, when Colorado felt like Chicago: cloudy and wet with a fog sliding down the mountains that will just eat you up. I went to work, told time by my bathroom breaks, and got a smidge of editing done. Drove home to cook dinner: stir fry and steak. Hooked up the TV that buzzes when the volume’s too high and watched Corrina, Corrina – my favorite old school flick. It was a typical, very relaxed Penguins day off.

After a phone call from a dear friend and a moment of stirring honey into my freshly brewed raspberry hot tea, I was back to the couch, ready to hit play. No sooner had I sat down and snuggled under the blanket, than my knee was itchy…then pinchy…sort of prickly-feeling. Then I was sure, so sure, that something under that blanket had moved.  I slowly lifted the blanket and swung my legs off the couch cautiously, still relatively confident that nothing could possibly be down there except my own legs.

That’s when it stung me. Poked it’s little spiky butt into my leg right on the inside of my knee. I let out a frightened kinda yelp that ended in a question mark. I still hadn’t seen it. I stood up and threw my sweatpants to the floor, hopping out of them in only my socked feet and a Venice Beach hoodie. And that little sucker calmly climbed right out of the pants I’d just been wearing!

I smashed the pant-dwelling bee with a flip-flop, iced my leg with frozen vegetables, and suffered sporadic fits of laughter at the impossibility of it all.  I’m glad to report that no major injuried were sustained. In my recovery, I’ll be a healthy scratch on the Penguins bench tonight for Game 4 of the Stanley Cup.

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