The Gift that Keeps on Giving ...

Is Poison Ivy, just in case you were wondering. It's two weeks of itchy, weepy awfulness that makes me want to run screaming to Alaska (where, my childish brain assumes, they have none of the demon weed).

But here on Long Island, we're positively lousy with the stuff. Which is why I always ask Michael (who seems to be immune) to pull it out of the ground for me. And that's exactly what he did yesterday. He pulled it all out -- bye, bye, nasty buggers!!

Except that this morning I awoke with a bloom of red itchy welts across both butt cheeks and down the back of one thigh. Which means the following: (1) henceforth, we will be hiring a professional to remove the offending plants; (2) my husband needs to be re-educated in the area of personal hygiene; and (3) thank God my sweet love is an ass man, because I cannot imagine walking around with a pair of Caladryl-crusted tits through half of August.