tobermory's Diaryland Diary

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The Tick

So, despite my vows of food-abstinence after eating everything put in front of me and then some, two weekends ago, I have continued to eat. And eat well I might add.

Friday night I hopped the train downtown to meet Allison for a Trish McEvoy make-up party at the Michigan Ave. Nordstrom. While we waited for our respective make-up artists we were wined and sweeted - champagne and mini-desserts such as lemon tartlets, tiny triangles of flourless chocolate cake, and wee striped chocolate cups of fresh hazelnut nougat. I had Tracey, my make-up artist, give me a lovely smokey eye that actually opened up my smallish eyes instead of closing them in, and Alli had a very fresh look with a pale shadow and a dark brown gel liner, and I must say that we both looked stunning for our dinner across the street at Bandera where we shared an artichoke appetizer and I was (for once) good and ordered the fish special. Itís so important to go out with girlfriends without the guys around Ė I donít think guys really understand the bond that women have or how important it is to us. Yes, we do tend to get a little spendy when weíre around each other (never mind how much Ms. McEvoy made off me that evening Ė thatís between me and Brandi the woman who runs the counter) but itís worth it because it keeps us sane. Letís just say that Iím probably getting closer to having the ĎTop Customerí dot put on my permanent card and I did feel it necessary to hide the bag in my closet so Steve wouldnít see it. In reality he probably doesnít care, but it gives him such great ammunition for teasing me that itís best if he never sees the volume of packaging and boxes.

Since my Friday out with Alli and Steveís regularly scheduled soccer game caused us to miss the big Architectural Artifacts party that kicks off their spring sale, Steve and I went over for some browsing on Saturday afternoon. As usual there were plenty of things to look at and drool over, but most were out of our price range and seemed exorbitantly priced, so all we came home with was a$40 ornate seal stamper that Steve can use for his Licensed Architect stamp. Note to self Ė do not go to future Architectural Artifacts parties. Yes, they are fun, have great people watching opportunities, and free beer and munchies, but after a couple of beers I tend to be able to rationalize spending $75 on an airport landing strip light that, although cool, I have no idea where it will go and no real use for. I saw plenty of things that, had I been a bit drinkie, probably would have been accidentally purchased, but we happily managed to come home with only a small indulgence that we can actually use.

Saturday night was my brotherís big birthday bash so Steve and I headed up to his house with a plate of my, now signature, brownies in tow. The food and beverages were very nice and I managed to eat enough to consider it dinner. Steve took off after about an hour to go to a grade school reunion prompting my dad to ask me why didnít I go with him? Letís see. I donít want to go to my own reunions where I would actually know people Ė why would I want to go to one where I would know almost no-one? Reunions, in general, are not for spouses unless you managed to snag one so spectacular that you just have to show them off. I may be cute, but I donít consider myself reunion-worthy. I got home about 10pm after making sure that my cat-sitting charges were fed and scooped, plopped down on the couch and managed to dump a number of shows from the TiVo queue.

Yesterday I would have preferred to sleep in with Steve and spend the day lolling about the house, but he had a coveted ticket to the Cubs/Sox game and I had already promised to go orienteering with Megan and Clark out in Palos Park. We did the orange course and it was really challenging Ė generally you can take established paths between control points (if this geek speak doesnít make sense check out the orienteering link Ė I think they have a mini explanation of what itís all about) with little or no bushwhacking, but not this time. There were nine control points that we had to hit to complete the course and it took just under three hours. Three excruciating hours of ducking under branches, climbing over tree trunks, getting stuck with nettles, and tripping over logs. I usually manage at least one spectacular fall per outing and this was no exception. My most notable was a couple of years ago when I fell into a stagnant, mosquito laden Ďstreamí trying to cross it. This time I just stumbled over a log and bruised my knee and arm Ė I didnít even get dirty. We finally finished, collectively limped back to the car, went out for some much needed lunch, and then headed home to shower and take naps. Steve had beaten me home and he was on the phone with one of his Texas cousins so I decided to take my shower. I disrobed and ran my hands around my aching lower back and I felt a thorn so I grabbed it and pulled it out, except it wasnít a thorn, IT WAS A TICK. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! A TICK! I had a tick!!!! And almost as bad as the tick being there in the first place, I HAD REMOVED IT WITH MY BARE HAND!!!!!! It was Sunday and Iím still getting the creepy crawlies thinking about it. I screamed like a little girl and flung the tick and ran naked into the living room screaming, ďA tick! A tick! I had a tick!Ē Steve was not amused, but apparently his cousin on the other end of the line was. And, did you know that apparently youíre not supposed to just pull them off with your bare hands? Youíre supposed to use a pair of tweezers. But, I honestly thought it was a thorn Ė I pulled a thorn out of my upper arm while we were eating lunch, so I wasnít insane thinking that it might have been a thorn (note: two days later Iím still pulling thorn-splinters out of my arms and legs). After announcing my parasitic guest to Steve, I had to run (naked) back into the kitchen, find the tick on the floor, ascertain that it was still alive - meaning that I got it all off and didnít leave the head and pincers dangling from my backĖ (ahhhhhh!!! much repulsiveness!) and then flush it down the toilet Ė all I need is for one of the cats to have the tick hitch a ride on them. I made Steve look at the tick bite-site about 30 billion-ty times Sunday night to make sure that I got it all out, and he swears I did, but now I have to make him do daily checks to make sure Iím not getting Lyme disease symptoms. I am so unbelievably grossed out. Anyway, post tick, we had some leftover pasta with meat sauce and watched Mean Girls (very Ďehí) and a TiVo-ed episode of Lost and I kept saying how the jungle on Lost looks like prime tick country.

9:30 a.m. - 2005-05-24

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