Poison Ivy!!!!!!

where to begin.

poison ivy is one of the banes of my existence. i hate it. it's one of the few material things i can honestly say that about. it does nothing but make me itch. or worry about itching. just talking about it makes me itch. i also hate ticks.

so i don't like poison ivy? join the club, right? it's more serious than that!! it's personal.

poison ivy grows pretty thick in North Carolina. i play my share of the disc golf, which means being out-of-doors. that equals bad news for my exposed body parts. i keep it in the fairway these days, for the most part, but back in the diz, i had to go hunting in the woods for bad shots. i got it so bad on my legs several years ago that i stopped wearing shorts. REI Sahara pants became the norm for me year round. and so it is today. i decided it wasn't worth the risk and changed my ways. but dealing with it on its turf is one thing. when it invades my personal property, that's something completely different. and so begins my story...

Andrea bought a house in Raleigh late last year. it was a great find: 3 bedroom in a decent neighborhood and a great back yard. the yard needed some attention, but i was looking forward to getting on it. the sellers mowed and picked up the big limbs, but there was still plenty to do. lots of trash all over the place and broken glass. the glass collection is an ongoing project.

one of the things that caught my eye were 2 of the big pecan trees in the back. they both were home to very large, very healthy vines of some sort. one of the trees had a significantly larger vine system than the other, but both were quite healthy and old. they had been left untouched for years and years. how many, i could only guess (1,000?). i don't recall thinking they might be poison ivy right away, but for whatever reason, i came to suspect it.

Andrea's dad came over with some tools, so just before Christmas 2006, i began chopping one of the vines with an axe. it was like chopping down a small tree: wood chips were flying. with every swing, i was saying to myself "if this is poison ivy, it's the likes of which i have never seen!!". well, it was poison ivy, as my swollen face and watery eyes would attest days later. each flying wood chip that bounced off my face carried with it a large amount of urushiol which caused said puffiness and wateriness. it wasn't until i went home for Christmas that i got relief in the form of a steroid shot. looking back, i was extremely lucky. there are some nasty photos of P.I. rashes out there on the internet. there's no good reason my rash wasn't 100 times worse. thankfully, i now know i am not allergic. like most people, though, i am susceptible.

fast forward several months. instead of using an axe to take care of the other infested tree, i got a pair of heavy duty loppers. with these, i could sever the lifeline of each vine up to about a 9" or 10" circumference. that was all of them but 1. there was one big daddy roughly the size of my leg (below the knee) and i needed to do more chopping to take care of it. i borrowed Kari's hatchet (the neighbor), protected my face with a dust mask and a towel and headed into the yard. it was hot and trying to chop the fat vine with all that headgear on with a camping hatchet was tough. but i managed to get it done with minimal exposure. again, there were lots of wood chips, but this time i ran in the house after finishing and took a long shower, including wiping myself down with alcohol squares. even with the precautions, i was sure i was going to contract it again. not helping matters was the allergy attack i was having. i crawled into bed like a scared little girl and awaited the rash.

thankfully, it didn't come. the next day, Andrea was out of town, so i went back to her place to tempt fate yet again: the first vine i chopped, back in December, had sent out about 50 vines radiating outwardly from the trunk of the tree along the top of the yard in a last ditch effort to sustain itself. as old and huge as the vines were, i can only imagine how vast the root system is. if so, i may be dealing with this for a while. years, maybe.

i put the gloves back on and started pulling up vines. they varied in length from a few feet to as many as 20 or more. when i was done, i had quite an impressive pile. every time i felt a leaf touch me, i ran into the house to wash my hands. that happened 7 or 8 times. i was being overly cautious and i think it may have paid off. the yard is, for the most part, free of poison ivy and i only managed to contract it in about 6 or 7 places...a few spots on my left arm, my right shoulder, my right wrist. and maybe a little on my face and in my ear. i'm again very surprised and lucky i didn't contract it all over my face and neck.

my project now is to keep the vines off the yard by pulling them as soon as i see them. my theory is that without leaves, photosynthesis can't happen and the root system will die in the ground. how long will that take? a while. i'm hoping the gasoline i poured on the exposed root will bring death more quickly. no matter, i'm nothing if not patient. and next time i'll wear long sleeves.

i have pictures to include. i'll modify the post to include them when they're ready. i went looking for pictures online of nasty poison ivy, but nothing i found compared to what's in the back yard. nothing. i read how, when healthy and mature, the vines can have branches "up to 3 or 4 feet in length". the branches coming off the vine in the back are upwards of 8 feet or more. it's horrifying. but now, i am pleased b/c the leaves on those branches are already wilting. it doesn't take long for them to die. but as i learned with the 1st vine, the roots stay active and it's only a matter of time before it sends out the emergency shoots seeking to preserve its life.

with any luck, i'll be there to pull the plug.

Blades of Glory

greatest movie of all time, except maybe for 'Tenacious D in "The Pick of Destiny"', which i haven't seen yet.

see Blades of Glory...or die trying. it would be a noble death.

Scoutin'

that 12 year old Boy Scout who was missing for 3.5 days in the hills of Western North Carolina was found today...alive! i was all worked up about it and was worried he would turn up dead. thank God he is alright! what a great, feel good story. of course, that means i am now free to make fun of him with impunity.

here are a couple quotes that caught my eye today when reading about this little boy:

from Spokesman Review:
Michael had stayed behind with an adult leader Saturday morning while the rest of the troop went for a hike "because apparently he wanted to sleep in," said David Bauer, a ranger with the Blue Ridge Parkway. Michael was there when the troop returned for lunch, but the group of about 10 Scouts and their three adult leaders soon noticed he was missing, Bauer said.

[His father said] "He ate lunch, chatting with the boys. He was walking around with I think some Pringles and a mess kit. The next moment, sounds like a blink of the eye, he was gone."

Searchers found Michael's mess kit late Saturday within a mile of the camp site, and White said they had also found a candy wrapper and a potato chip bag.

after being found, the first words out of his mouth, from CBC News in Canada:
"He just said, 'I'm hungry,"..."He wanted peanut butter crackers and water."

and perhaps best of all, from FoxNews:
A two-year-old dog named Gandalf from South Carolina led search-and-rescue officials to Michael's location, which was about a half-mile northeast of the campsite where he was last seen.

i apologize for being insensitive and would he have perished in the woods, i would never state these things publicly, but come on! he skipped the hike to sleep in and hooked back up with his buddies for lunch...then he wondered off with a can of Pringles and a candy bar...got lost for 3.5 days, and when found (a half mile from the campsite!!!), immediately requested peanut butter crackers!!

wow.

if i've learned anything from this story, it is: this kid is a litterbug. and it saved his life. he left a trail of cellophane and cardboard in his wake so thick, all 'ol Gandalf had to do was follow it straight to him. so i ask you all to litter. litter like there's no tomorrow. it may be our only hope.

Readin'

i don't read nearly as much as i should. every now and then i'll try to motivate myself to get back on it. sort of like college when i would voluntarily choose an 8am class over a later one thinking, "it'll be good! it'll be different this time! i'll get up and get going, be done with classes by noon and have the whole rest of the day to kick ass!!". makes sense. good theory. except that i'm not a morning person and however good my intentions, i would skip that class more often and put myself in a much worse situation by having to catch back up. the only ass that got kicked was mine.

2 years ago, i decided to ask for books as Christmas presents. i specified Patriots, on the recommendation of a great friend (and patriot) Bob Hutchins, as well as Ben Franklin's Autobiography and yet another book about Benjamin Franklin. that was apparently during my American Revolution kick. that kick has since ended, but not before reading none of the books all the way through.

the friggin' Autobiography of Ben Franklin is tiny, people. it fits in your pocket. literally brochure style. didn't finish it. the other two are mammoth. started Patriots, but it had so many names and dates...the other BF book was very intimidating. huge.

i even got a library card late last year. of the 3 or 4 books i checked out, all were returned late, but none were not returned unread.

i'm back on a reading kick. this time, i'm starting with small and realizable goals. Thurston loaned me "V for Vendetta". it's a comic book. i finished it. a friend from work loaned me "Marley and Me". it's a 'Man and his dog' type book. after a few months, i finally started it and it's pretty good.

why do i want to be "a reader"? it's cool, i guess. people say, "hey have you read such and such? no?" and they turn away to go find somebody who's read it. it's neat to talk about cool books you've read. the coolest i ever felt was when somebody saw a movie and i was able to honestly say, "yeah, the movie was pretty good but i read the book and it was much better". who cares that it was "The Firm" by John Grisham? i was finally able to say those words: The Book Was Better.

in conclusion, i see that i'm not so much "pretentious" as "wanna-be pretentious". that's much worse!