NOT DEAD YET

Day one: What the heck is this red rash on my left hip? Laid awake half the night wondering what it could be.  Cancer? Spider Bites? Allergic reaction to something? Impetigo? (No that’s around the mouth), Herpes? (Did I get an STD from that camp bathroom?  If I did, what will I tell DH?--I know, I know--doesn't happen but, anxiety rules my brain at 2 a.m. )

Day two: This rash HURTS and it’s getting worse.  Drop everything and go see a doc.

“Doc, I’ve got this rash on my hip.  I think it’s a heat rash.  I’ve been working outside a lot in the sun and getting all sweaty and stuff.”

Doc gives me a paper dress, comes back with a young nurse and looks at my rash. His face tells me it is bad news.  “I’m sorry but you have a classic case of Shingles.”

Doc gave me the speech you can find anywhere on the internet, called in some meds to my pharmacy and sent me on my way.

I let my hubby know the awful news.  He came right home but about all he could do was feel sorry for me.  Then the pain and then horrible nausea started.  I’d told my doc I had horrific reaction to Lortab so he prescribed Tramadol for pain.  Turns out that stuff is also full of codeine and by the time I figured it out and quit taking it I’d barfed up my socks so many times I ended up in the ER getting rehydrated.

Long story short.  My left rear looks like I was caught stealing chickens and got hit with buckshot by the farmer.  It stings like I slid down a cheese grater into alcohol.  Okay, TMI.  Sorry.

 But I’m not quite dead.  I’m getting better.  I don’t want to go in the cart so I’m taking the pills that are supposed to kill the virus even though they’re the size of giant jelly beans. (The pills, not the virus.)

The rash is quite awesome as rashes go and has stopped spreading and oozing.  Oh, yeah, TMI.  Sorry.   

No, not dead yet. I think I’ll go for a walk.   I feel happy.  I feel happy. Take away the cart.

And if you’re over 60 run, don’t walk to a place that gives immunizations against Shingles.  The shot is expensive but Medicare and insurance should cover the cost.

ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE RAY OF DEATH

This is one of our neighbors at camp, a red-napped sapsucker.

This is the end result of "The Ray of Death."

This is a red-napped sapsucker suffering the effects of The Ray of Death.  

This behavior is also known as "sunning" but it's not as funny.

VAMPIRES, ZOMBIES AND A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

DH and I  were adjusting pretty well to living in the woods in a 26 foot RV.  We found most of the stuff we stashed in all the cubby holes.  We figured out how to light the gas stove without blowing ourselves into the next county.  And we invented a dance that allowed us to move through our routines in the crowed quarters.

We were even growing accustomed to doing without our queen-sized bed and to waking up to the songbird choir.  But we weren’t happy about the vampires.  Millions of blood sucking mosquitoes waited to attack the moment we left the safety of our tin tent.  If they managed to slip inside, they mocked us with their whine as they floated about.

 The most wicked would wait in a dark corner and then hum in our ears after we went to bed, telling us how they’d drink our blood as we slept.

We got pretty good at hunting them down and mashing their little bodies against the walls.  Our reflexes quickened so we could snatch them out of the air and crush them with our fingers.  We developed a routine of soaking ourselves in repellent before we went about our outdoor tasks.

The zombies were another story. Right after we arrived at camp, an infestation of tent caterpillars filled the trees and shrubs with slowly marching fuzzy stripped maggots.  We stepped on them by accident and on purpose.  Dozens of them walked to the edge of the pool and fell in both when it was empty and when it was full of water.  We even painted a few of them sky blue along with the pool. They were so plentiful that they became a scourge that stripped acres of aspen trees of their leaves.  The birds gorged themselves and fed them to their babies until they cried, “No! Not caterpillars AGAIN!”

We suspected and even expected the thief. If we happened to be awake in the night we thought we could hear something moving around in the dark.  Then we brought home an especially delicious purchase of fresh, sweet cherries from the only grocery store in town.  We ate our fill and left the rest in a bowl on the table.  The next morning we found a couple of the cherries had been sampled by tiny teeth.  There were also itty bitty black poo lumps left behind by the cherry crook.  We’d been careful to store most food in hard containers or in the fridge but our negligence had caused a breach in security.  We broke out the mouse traps we’d brought along for just such an occasion.  We baited them up with cheese and waited.  The traps were robbed but unsprung.  So we went to the campers’ cooks and begged a spoonful of peanut butter.  We set the traps again and joined everyone at evening campfire.

When we returned we found a fat little white-footed deer mouse in a trap, still twitching and not quite dead.

 It wasn’t pretty.
  
Using the boot heel method we made certain it was deceased and tossed it way out into the forest to warn others who might have the same idea.