You all know our love of geocaching. And I bet you'd be surprised to learn that in the past two months we've gone out once to stalk tupperware in the woods.
Today Doug decided that it was high time we got our fat lazy asses back out on the trail.
I was kind of semi-disappointed to hear of his plan, because while I do love to stalk plastic containers with a GPS, I also was enjoying the getting things donenessnessness that we'd been experiencing as of late. Many a weekend in the past at our former address was spent hiking when we should have been fixing stuff or cleaning stuff or just generally being better stewards of our property.
But we needed a hike. And our new puppy needed to be introduced to the trails. I just wish it wasn't so damn hot outside.
So we went out, and it became quickly apparent to me that I have grown soft. A two mile hike should not have kicked my ass as hard as it did. Even with the monstrously huge hill we had to climb, and all the bugs... I should have been able to better handle and process this effort.
The cache itself was hysterically funny. The box was huge and there were two cute stuffed elephants set up as playing poker on the inside. (Do go follow that link and go see the picture. It'll crack you up).
We laughed hard, and the bugs and poison ivy and heat seemed a little weakened as a result.
Echoes of Doug and me laughing and quoting Monty Python's Whizzo Confectionery Company skit were heard throughout the land as we chased her and tried to take it out of her mouth. It was rather revolting, but funny in the end.
We only did the one geocache, even though we set out to do four. Brodie was exhausted and I was beat beyond belief. Even Geoff, who is a never ending font of willing geocache energy, was wiped out enough to head home.
I'm ready for bed right now and it is only 7:30. What's up with THAT!? It was hot, but not any hotter than other days we went out caching so I'm kind of disappointed in my lack of ability. We must get back in the swing of things and fast. I'm not happy about losing steam in our quest for 500 finds.
Speaking of poison ivy, Doug is awash in a rash right now. We have a perennial garden that grows around our patio. He weeded it, avoiding the poison ivy that was in there, thinking he'd get it later in the year or rip it all out in the spring.
Well, the poison ivy oil was on every single plant in the garden. It didn't matter if he was pulling out a basic weed or a small maple tree - everything was coated in poison ivy.
And he got coated in it.
I got it by proxy. Jack and Brodie both have been running through the garden. Brodie has trashed some of the plants (my spiderwort is crushed to a pulp. Grrrrr!) and by sleeping behind my naked legs Jack has managed to transfer oils onto my skin.
So I've got a bunch of PI on the backs of my thighs.
I'll be sure not to use Nair on my legs like I did this time last year before vacation. Voof. I didn't blog it last year, but remind me to tell you the story about what happens when you put NAIR on your legs when you have PI and it isn't obvious because you never really break out in a rash.
Anyway -- Doug is a hamburgery mess. He's been on benadryl and cortisone cream for a week. Yesterday he decided that instead of waiting until next spring to pull out the evil weed he'd just tackle it this year. With rubber gloves and full head to toe clothing, he dove in and ripped the shit out. Some of the roots were 5 feet long.
And then he went into the shower and scrubbed himself within an inch of his life. I was afraid he'd BREATHE the oils, and we'd end up with him on life support. Gah. But he survived and didn't pick up any more of a rash.
Our garden looks all the more healthy for it.
Me, I can't tell what PI looks like. I wouldn't have known it was PI at all. So I'm glad he took one for the team.
Tomorrow Geoff goes to summer camp at the Cub Scout reservation up in NH.
This year they've managed to set up and keep a bus schedule. Last year they had to cancel it because not enough kids signed up for the bus, which made it an absolutely hellish experience for me.
I had to drop him off at 8:30am, drive 90 minutes to work, and then leave no later than 3pm to get back there in time to do pickup. Which meant I maybe was at work for four hours a day for the week that he was there.
Geoff is going for two weeks this summer. I'm not looking forward to the possibility of getting a call saying that the second week he's there will not have bus. Gah.
Anyway -- he has to be at the bus stop at 7:45 this week, so I've got to make sure he's up and ready. Brodie has been getting up around 5:30am at the latest, so I have a feeling I won't slink back into bed after I take her out to pee. I'll stay up and get myself ready for work and make sure Geoff's ready to go as well.
Right then. The dogs are face fighting under my chair. The Simpsons are on. Guess it is time to mosey. More later.
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