Monday, April 21, 2014

Deja Ivy

I went to college

LAST week I had to make a semi-regular appearance at my place of employment. In the northern part of the country. Where there was snow.

Not to make fun of Cleveland - mostly because it's so easy to do so - but I missed AVL in a big way. The entire time.

I was only gone for 80 hours, but that was more than enough. While I was away, my wonderfully weird new home was calling out to me, urging me to return.

Sit down and bee quiet
I had some issues getting out Tuesday morning. You see, I've been sleeping like a regular human being for the last few years. For a while, I was surviving on stress-filled naps throughout the night, periodically waking up in a freak show scratch session around 3 a.m. every night.

That's all gone. But now that I sleep well, waking up after only four hours of sleep and catching a flight, I was a bit thrown off.

So when I got on board my second flight in Charlotte, we were delayed on the tarmac for about an hour. I didn't know that. I was in the back row, passed out. Probably with my mouth open wide enough for a passerby's fist to fit into.

I woke up at 10:30 and thought, "Wow, smoothest flight ever."

I put my glasses on, tightened my shoelaces, and proceeded to stand up.

Man, downtown Cleveland looked a lot like downtown Charlotte. Since when could you see downtown Cleveland from the airport? And the trees were sure in bloom.

Even with those alarm bells going off, I was too tired to figure out that we'd been sitting on the tarmac.

When I stood up, people started looking at me. After a few moments, I realized I should just sit back down. Something about air marshals and rendition started running through my head.

That's when it dawned on me that we were still in Charlotte.

The poke scratch
That night, I went for a run. Afterward, while I was stretching, my nephew Tommy was hanging out with me, being his usual goofball self.

"Are you done yet?" he asked. Over and over and over.

"Almost," I would say, repeatedly reaching down to the top of my left foot, scratching it.

Sweet jumpin' jeepers, it felt good.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

"Hey, you're about to lose that golf club for good little buddy," I said.

"Oh," laugh, laugh, laugh. Poke, poke, poke.

This feeling is strangely familiar
Every season, my first outbreak of poison ivy catches me off guard. Like the time I returned home from hiking in Big Sur with poison oak covering about 90 percent of my body. Yep, including the family jewels.

Well, my old friend snuck up on me again Tuesday evening.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Luckily, last season, my wife found a miracle cure for poison ivy: Lavender oil. We all have different skin, so what works for me may not work for you.

But if you find the creepy, crawly, oozy stuff taking over your skin this summer, give it a try!

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