DailySusan Humor Blog

DAILYSUSAN WILL RETURN ON MONDAY, JULY 17.

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POISON UH-OH

The way of a fool
is right in his own eyes:
but he that hearkeneth unto counsel is wise.
-- Proverbs 12:15

Didn’t I clamber all over hill and dale at kiddie camp, and never got poison ivy?

Didn’t I hike all over the back trails of northern Minnesota picking blueberries, and fishing along the creepiest, crawliest, back-woods shores?

Didn’t I cavort at “woodsies” out in the boondocks in college, and on camping trips, and while gardening? Haven’t I spent more than my share of time in the “cabbage” of the deep rough on golf courses near and far?

And in all that time, I never got poison ivy, or its evil twins, poison oak and poison sumac. Never! Others itched . . . but I remained Dermatologically Unprovoked.

Until last week, that is. Oooh! I got it . . . BAD!

The red-speckled undersides of my arms look like the Tattooed Lady! From ankle to knee, it looks like I got in a knifefight with a near-sighted midget. I even had it on the tips of my ears and down both sides of my neck, apparently from fussing with my hair.

It’s my own darn fault. I knew there was poison ivy among the weeds around those grand old cottonwoods ringing our neighborhood pond. A neighbor had to be hospitalized with an extreme allergic reaction after a workday down there; my beloved had gotten a touch of it, and it wasn’t fun.

But I was immune! I was SuperWeeder!

Hundreds of people were coming there for our neighborhood’s annual fireworks show. That’s why I wanted to weed under the trees, even though people wouldn’t even get there ‘til it was too dark to see.

But my perfectionistic streak forced me to ignore these warnings, and go down there and spruce things up.

Did I wear long sleeves and long pants? Nah. It was hot!

Did I let my rake and other garden tools make the contact? Nah. I got right in to the piles, scooped ‘em up and stuffed ‘em into bags. Hey! I HAD on GLOVES!

I threw my work clothes immediately into the washing machine, and took a sudsy shower. No spots! No itching!

Next day, I strutted around, the intrepid garden Goliath.

But at 3 a.m., I awakened with RAGING VOLCANOS ERUPTING FROM THE CROOKS OF MY ELBOWS DOWN TO MY WRISTS! Before my eyes, ominous pinnacles of pink skin peaked, then oozed, and transformed my bed into Camp Itchipoogottascratchit.

I made a beeline for the Caladryl lotion. Better! Kind of!

Two hours later, the volcanos were back, this time on my legs. I woke up like a contortionist, my body shaped into the letter “O,” my nails scratching my ankles into a bloody pulp. Then new volcanos erupted on my arms. Back and forth it went.

Call your doctor, friends advised. Nah. He’ll get really mad.

Instead, I got online and started reading the scariest and most confusing amateur medical advice imaginable. Rub 100% Clorox on it with a washcloth until it burns.

No, Clorox will scar – use brake cleaner!

No, that hurts too much. Apply a thick coat of white shoe polish!

No, just take a shower in the hottest water you can stand, to literally scald your skin so it can’t feel any more. Bite down on a rolled-up washcloth when you really “get cooking.”

No! Cold water! That’s the ticket! With Fels Naptha laundry soap.

No, no, no. You put 20 tea bags in a hot bath, soak for 20 minutes, pat yourself dry, and blow-dry yourself on the highest setting. Talk about hot air!

My favorite advice was to use alcohol. Not on your itchy, owie skin – but to drink yourself into blissful unconsciousness. If you’re conked out, you won’t scratch.

A week’s gone by, and the volcanos have finally calmed down. Now I just look scabby and icky.

It would have been sooooooo simple to heed the warnings, and not even go around known poison ivy in the first place.

Simple . . . smart . . . and so out of character. But if it’s the way to stay out of Camp Itchipoogottascratchit, maybe I’ll wise up at last. †

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Miles For Mali Update

Goal: Raise $5,600 and collect 5,600 miles of walking, running, biking and swimming in 56 days to help build a much-needed maternity hospital in Mali, Africa.

Second week’s report: 14 miles walked, $273 raised from people in Nebraska, Missouri and Pennsylvania. Still ‘way, ‘way behind schedule, dollar-wise. But still planning to meet it!

Renewing the challenge, far and wide: why not sponsor me for $1 a day, to help bring decent medical care to nearly-destitute women and children in West Africa? If you can’t sacrifice $56, I understand, and God bless you. But if you can . . . woo hoo! God will honor your commitment, and I’ll sing your praises to Him.

Please send checks made out to Christ Community Church to:
Susan Williams, P.O. Box 995, Elkhorn, NE 68022. Deadline: Aug. 20.
Donations tax-deductible; you will receive a letter for your files. THANK YOU!!!

Learn more at: www.themaliproject.org or www.christcommunityomaha.org