Sitting here on the porch in an undisclosed location on the first day of the rest of my summer vacation. I am sitting here at noon on this beautiful sunny day because I have overdone it. Two back to back 24 mile bike rides followed by a rousing game of kick ball will require a day of sitting on the front porch and some beach down time. Even though I promised that I would take it easy, my family performed an intervention. Ben was heading home to get to work for the rest of his week; so the family tied me down and loaded the bike and sent it back home. I guess that my need for speed will be squelched as I am forced from biking to bi-pedal mode for the rest of vacation. Which is???? Who knows? This is the first day of the rest of my summer vacation.
The kick ball game was epic last evening; nearly perfect in every way. The crushed shale diamond was in perfect condition. The outfield was perfectly rolled and had no mole runs through it. With no mole runs, there were no attendant dog excavated Grand Canyons (see my blog; lawn care?). It is true; the Sharritt diamond has fallen into disrepair from disuse and doggy excavation. It remains to be seen if this will provide the impetus for kickball rejuvenation when we get back.
The only problem was that the bases had all been destroyed. Homeplate was great, but first and second were shattered hulls of their former selves and third base was completely gone. (Run to google; type in cities on the shoreline of Lake Michigan with more than six blocks, a 4th of July parade, and Optimist Tot Lot without infield bases, and not Chicago.) This was not an ideal situation. My gorgious wife, Bev, was playing on the other team, and I was definately planning on getting to third base with her.
It was an epic 5 inning defensive struggle. My team lost 18 - 14. Congratulations sworn enemies. For Grace's friends it was an immersion into Sharritt ball and probably answers why they find Grace sobbing in the corner clutching a playground ball from time to time. Becca got the worst of it. She was on first base when I had a particularly good kick. I am running the bases when the possession took hold and I shouted "Run Becca Run!!! I'm coming to get you." In a small peaceful Mayberry of the upper mid-west, this appears to have a very motivating effect. We both scored; making it my only home run in the evening.
I am sitting here on the porch of this undisclosed location listening to Simon and Garfunkle on the first day of the rest of my summer vacation. I am listening and suddenly "Sounds of Silence" comes on which reminds me of a blog that I have been wanting to write this summer. For some reason, every time I have heard that song this summer, my alliterative mind has taken over and I think the salves of summer.
How did we every get along without salves and ointment? It is a wonder our ancestors ever survived to get through to this over the counter mecca. It starts in April with the athlete's foot. A few warm days of my feet being kept securely in the foot cages (shoes), and my toes are burning. Out comes the Desinex. Next comes his northern cousin (how can I say this delicately) jock itch. Thankfully, the same ointment works on this condition. Since contemplaiting this blog over the past few days. It occured to me that if it wasn't for our ankles, knees, and legs the fungal cousins would become kissing cousins. Which makes me wonder, is meditation on a theme really all that beneficial?
Late May brought weed eating the side ditch out by the road. I was glad that the poison ivy had died over winter. Five days later and wrong. The juice splatter was extensive on my feet and ankles, and one spot on the forearm. Out came the cortizone ointment for a month long battle against the itching, blistering and oozing
On to June, fireflies, wild black raspberries, an evening in the garden and I get a great case of chigger bites; five of them as a matter of fact, three of them at the ankle, one at my shorts hem, and one at the waistline.
I hate chiggar bites most of all. It requires no less than three concoctions to conquer. First the cortisone ointment stops the itch. Second, the triple antibiotic is applied to make sure that the inevitable scratching does not get infected and you get the dreaded infection that our mothers used to warn us about. Phonetically I would spell it infantago. My dictionary doesn't recognize that spelling. But my readers of a certain age know what I am talking about. I suppose "infantago" has been replaced by flesh eating bacteria. Thankfully, I grew up in simpler times.
You would think that two salves would be enough to put an end to a small pest like the Chiggar but no. That irritating bite will persist for weeks if you don't complete the concoction by plastering the bite with clear nail polish. But put clear nail polish on it and I gaurentee that you will be chigger free within 14 days.
The list goes on and on; Deet, calamine, sunscreen, noxema. Our pharmacies are full. The only thing that I know no salve can heal during summer time is the bitter taste of defeat on the kickball field. Only a rematch with my sworn enemies can ease that pain.
Thank goodness today is the first day of the rest of my summer vacation.
Take care.
Roger
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