Friday, June 23, 2006

poison ivy

what an evil plant. i have been awake since 3am itchy and miserable. i have taken a few homeopathic remedies but the effects have seemed to have worn off during my brief sleep. i have re-dosed myself and am waiting for my oatmeal/baking soda bath to fill. yesterday i researched poison ivy and remedies. i guess jewelweed (crushed leaves and rubbed on the affected area) is the best known remedy. cortisone isn't an option for me since i have a reaction to that also. jewelweed doesn't grow here (it will soon). i guess it likes better soil than the ozarks normally afford.
general misery has consumed me lately and i haven't felt like blogging about it. i hate poison ivy. it has been too hot to tolerate being in an itchy covering.
we have had a dog stalking our chickens for the past few days. my first inclination is to kill it but i opted for the slingshot method. i had one of these high powered slingshots as a kid. it used surgical grade tubing for the rubber bands and was far to powerful for a teenager. i practiced with that thing almost daily. it was the closest thing to a real weapon that i was allowed.
i bought one while we were out yesterday. it was inexpensive and seemed like the most humane first step. sure enough when we got home that dog was there trying to get into our broiler chicken cage. the stupid slingshot was still in the packaging and the dog ran off during my frantic preparations. after checking the perimeter of the coop i decided to see if i could hit the broadside of a barn with this thing. sure enough ffwhap--the barn didn't have a chance. on to more difficult prey, i set up a piece of roofing tin roughly dog sized(a little bigger). two or three random shaped stones later i realized that there was obviously some muscle memory coming into play--i couldn't miss the thing. i decided to move a little further away--say 12 feet.
just kidding... i got about 70 feet away and was planning on trying again when tabitha came around the corner and asked "what ya doin'?" "nothing" like i was fourteen again and just killed some desireable michigan foul. anyway i picked up another rock and fired it at the offending dog, i mean, tin target. CLACK i got him. i mean i hit the target. she called me out, mentioning something about reliving a childhood machismo fantasy. a few shots later and more than hundred yards between myself and the dog-target i was confident i could reliably hit the dog during our next encounter. alright cujo, you're next.
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