The Nerd Demographic

Once again, I find myself firmly in the section of the population that can be labeled "Nerd". I don't even mean to do it, I just embrace something I think is great and then later find out that just about everyone else who likes this same thing identifies themselves as dorky.

Case in point, my whole family has just finished watching the series "Firefly". We loved, loved, loved it! It is a space opera from the early 2000's starring Nathan Fillian and Gina Torres. It only lasted one season, then was cancelled. The outrage of fans resulted in a movie ("Serenity"), but that was the end. Forever. (I didn't just like this show because my soon-to-be-off-to-college son sat next to me as we watched it, that was a bonus).

We googled the show to see a clip of Nathan Fillian on his new show, "Castle" in the costume of his character from "Firefly". We found several Utube clips with Sheldon (head nerd from "The Big Bang Theory") expressing his love for all things Firefly. Hmmmm... Another thing Sheldon and the Ose family have in common.

The geeky incidents continue, even when I am trying my hardest to be cool. Last night I got all dressed up in my nicest flowered dress and went to a garden party with my elegant lady friends. (These are the same friends I brought half-cooked rice pudding to a year ago).

A word about these gardens: a very nice woman named Claire has worked her back yard up into a truly beautiful landscape. She does photography, and rents the space out for weddings, proposals, tea parties and tours. Look at her website, http://godsgardensbyclaire.com to see what I mean. Last night was a gorgeous night, the flowers are blooming, the bees were buzzing, butterflies were flitting. I was in disguise as an elegant matron, sniffing roses and chatting with a graduate of Wellesley College.

Then I felt a tremendous pain in my side! Was it a cattle prod? Was I having some sort of stroke? No, a bumblebee had flown up my flowery dress and was now trapped and very unhappy. By the way, it is a lie that the little beasts can only sting once. It stung me many times before I got rid of it. The geeky part is how goofy I looked trying to decide if it was worse to continue being stung or to take off my clothes in a stranger's back yard with 20 women I am trying desperately to impress! I started pulling the skirt up, but at the sight of my fish-belly white thighs I had to abandon that plan, it was too horrible to contemplate! So I kept jerking and smiling and trying not to swear like a sailor. I finally got hold of the critter through the fabric and squished it. My nice friends were all for trying to help me get the stinger out, but I swore I was fine and finished out the night. This morning I had a welt the size of the palm of my hand on my side pork.

You can dress a dork up, but you can't take her anywhere!

Naturally, I needed painkiller. This would have been poetic justice...

Bee Sting Liqueur
Yield: 1 1/2 pints
4 md Navel oranges
1 md Lemon
3 c Vodka
1 1/8 c Honey
8 dr Yellow food coloring; opt.
1 dr Red food coloring; opt.
1 ts Glycerine; opt.
Rinse and dry the oranges and the lemon. Use the shredding side of a cheese grater to scrape only the orange part off the oranges; be careful not to scrape off the white, bitter part. Scrape the peel off half the lemon the same way. Put the orange and lemon zests in a glass jar; add the vodka. Seal tightly and let steep for 3 days in a cool, shaded place, shaking the jar once a day. Strain the flavored vodka into a clean bowl; whisk in the honey until it dissolves and the mixture clears. Stir in the optional colorings and glycerine. Pour the liquid into a clean glass bottle, or bottles, seal tightly, and allow to mature for at least a week before using. Store at room temperature.