Trey, thankfully has fixed my computer. Kind of. If this post self destructs in 90 seconds, you'll know who to call.
So Trey and I met a family at camp who we loved but, in the interest of keepin' it totally real, we may have kind-of, sorta snickered at one of their idiosyncrasies.
They were very, very worried about getting poison oak. Giggle.
Every time they would come back from an outing - horseback riding, hiking, dinner - they would want everyone to scrub down with Tecnu which is, in their words, "the very best treatment out there for poison ivy, poison oak, or poison sumac". Snort.
They would encourage everyone to totally disinfect and place our clothes in plastic bags so that the oils would not spread.
Uh, yeah, we're good. Snicker.
Saturday,we had a baseball game and of course five minutes after we arrived, Sadie decided she needed to use the restroom. Now, we had just left a store where the bathrooms were immaculate but did she need to go then? Of course not.
With no port-o-pottys in sight and Sadie hopping around holding her breath, we trekked off into the woods to find a tree. I know, don't judge me, that's not at all the point of the story.
On Monday morning, I woke up with a red, bumpy rash covering my arm. It actually woke me up because it itched so stinkin' bad.
Trey immediately diagnosed it as poison ivy cause, you know, he's a doctor and all.
It is so bad I've actually thought twice about going and having acrylic nails put on just so I could scratch better.
Last night, as a new ragingly itchy patch appeared on my opposite shoulder, Trey - not practicing loving me as Christ loved the Church - said "Wow, I sure bet you wished you had some Tecnu right about now." And then he snorted and snickered all the way to the t.v. to watch the College World Series.
Whatever. Scratch. Itch. Scratch.