Choose Your Poison

Uncle P is currently the victim of some sort of plant poison. I doubt it's poison ivy as a particularly bad bout with it as a child left me immune. The weeds, vines and unwanted tees growing along my neighbors' fences which surround my back yard (or 'garden' for my UK, NZ ad AU readers) are incredibly varied and often unidentifiable. 

I know there's lots of Rose of Sharon, Honeysuckle and Briar, though there are dozens more growing over, through and under the various fences surrounding my property. If you follow me regularly, you know I am still in the process of cleaning up the debris left by my well-intentioned BIL in May. I suspect it is during this clean-up that I contracted whatever it is that has left my ankles, left thigh and left arm with angry, itchy and downright nasty red rashes which are driving me insane.

Yes, I am using both cortisone cream for the itch and a product recommended by both a dear friend and my local pharmacist to stop the rash's spread. Both are helping, but neither seems to be curing. Every time I think one of the rashes is healing, another one appears on a new limb or a new area of an already affected limb. It burns. It itches. It's ugly. I hate it.

One week from today, Uncle P will be visiting Chicago for both business and vacation. I'll be meeting up with at least two dear friends and hopefully having some non-committed fun (if you know what I mean - nudge, nudge, wink,wink) and I certainly hope these rashes are long gone before then. I don't consider myself a 'Prize' by any means and this unfortunate turn of events certainly doesn't help to upgrade my desirability. 

Honestly, I think my life could be included in the Lemony Snicket books, "A Series of Unfortunate Events." Every time I think things are going well, something comes along to say "Eff You and Your Life!" Of course, this is nothing more than a "First World Problem" or a "White Whine." I know there are people in the world with far worse problems than an uncomfortable rash. It still seems like these kinds of nuisances pop up at the worst possible times...

Of course, I could just be a whiny d-bag who doesn't appreciate how good my life is, compared to many. I'll leave that up to you to decide. In the meantime, I'll be doing my best not to scratch.

At least I know this isn't the issue (nor will it ever be):

More, anon.
Prospero

D'Oh! or: Uncle P's "First World Problems" Weekend

"I Could Ride That Lip All the Way to Trenton!" ~ Uncle P's Mother

Once again, some links in this post may be NSFW.

So, last night... Uncle P spent 90+ minutes writing, researching and linking hilarious and informative links in a post which I failed to revert to draft, forcing me to re-log into Blogger and lose everything I had painstakingly worked on to give you, what few faithful readers I have, a few moments of weird entertainment. I wasn't happy, but it certainly wasn't the end of the world, nor the first time my own neglectfulness had led to such an issue.

Today, my sweet, thoughtful mother (who is nothing like the Gerald Scarfe illustration linked in the Pouty Picture's caption) presented me with an "Anti-Fathers' Day" present. And before all you Grammar Nazis question it, the apostrophe is used the way it should be used in this case, meaning all fathers, rather than just yours, which would be written as 'Father's.' (Can you tell I'm in a mood? Thought you might.) Anyway... In the wake of my previously mentioned BIL's greatly appreciated semi-decimation of my long-neglected backyard's overgrowth, the task of disposing over-sized nuisance flora left behind by his Herculean effort seemed nothing short of over-whelming to yours truly. Mom, in her infinite thoughtfulness, saw this set of ratcheting pruning shears on my sister's competition and ordered them (in blue), thinking they might save me time and effort

And boy, was she right. I tried them out almost right away and found that they cut through some rather tough branches with little effort and thinner ones with almost none at all. Like 'buttah.' The hand shears took on weeds, smaller shrubs, saplings and rose branches just as easily, once I figured out how to open the damned things (no instructions led to some consternation when it came to figuring out the safety lock). I honestly haven't been so pleased by a practical gift in a very long time. If you're looking for a gift for Dad; Mom; Dads; Moms or even if you're just a homeowner with an overgrown yard, I highly recommend them. They were purchased from the major home-shopping channel that is not located in the F state. And if that doesn't help, it starts with the same letter as one of my dearest friend's name.

Sadly, my joy over the amazing pruners was soon negated, once again by own stupidity. Plans had been made for Q, Dale, K and I to see Man of Steel at our central (i.e. default) AMC multiplex. In an effort to control my credit card spending, Uncle P chose not to buy tickets online, instead picking up K in time (or so I thought) to buy tickets once at the theater. For the first time in all my of memory, Uncle P was shut out of a sold-out movie. Of course, Q and Dale (like sane people) had pre-purchased their tickets on-line. After much texting and an actual phone call; malfunctioning automated ticket machines and an aborted attempt to buy tickets to another movie at the same time (thanks to the aforementioned MTMs) K and I went for a drink and then went home. I will have other chances to see Man of Steel this week, though there's nothing like seeing a movie with one's best friends. 

While I'm still hoping that Dear D, Mike and I will see This Is the End this week as well, I came home to find a friend had sent me a link the very Bromantic video embedded below, which actually made me feel a little better. What can I say, but 'Kiss Me, Guido?'

Yes, I know there are people who can barely feed their families, let alone afford to go to a movie. Yes, there are far worse things in the world than lost blog posts and sold-out movies. I'd like to think of myself as someone who not only has compassion and empathy for others (i.e. 'Not a Jerk'). I volunteer and do charity work. I smile at everyone (even those who refuse to smile back), though I don't suffer fools, easily. 

None of that means that I don't get to pout now and then, does it? I mean, I know plenty of folks who pout regularly (in fact, almost incessantly) on various forms of social media. Am I being a 'drama queen' tonight? Maybe. Churlish? Possibly. A 'White Whiner?" Perhaps. But who isn't, at least once a while? Damn! I really wanted to see some Cavill, tonight!

More, anon.
Prospero

Winter's Last Gasp (A Ramble)

Oh, How I Loves Me Some Pareidolia!

Spring is almost officially here but in the Northeast, "Old Man Winter* is rallying. Temperatures in the North Atlantic states tumbled tonight, though today was nice enough to get to the car wash. I de-trashed and vacuumed, rode through the robotic tunnel and then came home to clean my dash, steering wheel, console and doors with auto-wipes. I'm no longer embarrassed to have a passenger. Yay!

It's cold tonight, though. I actually threw a pull-over on top of my shirt. Temperatures in the Delaware Valley are expected to drop into the 30's, but warming by tomorrow afternoon into the 50's. And we're supposed to reach 70 by midweek! I can't complain. We've had a very mild winter, here. The only major snow accumulation was Halloween weekend, unlike last year when three major storms walloped us in December and January. I also noticed my SAD wasn't as severe this year. I don't know whether to attribute that to the mild weather, the extra vitamin D3 or a combination of both

It's certainly been wet. We've had lots of rain, though a wet winter and spring usually mean a lush summer and a glorious fall. I ordered some exotic lilies today and will be out looking for butterfly bushes and other flowers, soon. It will be nice to have some color in the yard, this year. I've given up on tomatoes; squirrels are evil bastards.

Tonight, by the way, is the actual start of DST. I thought after last weekend's gaffe, I should mention it. If you live somewhere that does practice DSL, turn your clocks ahead one hour before you go to bed, unless you have one of those clocks that automatically resets itself, like my personal alarm clock.
Tomorrow afternoon I'm seeing John Carter with D & maybe a few other friends (another Yay!) and then having dinner and drinks with the director of Hairspray. You know I'll be posting a review of the movie, at least. I suspect the dinner conversation will be the kind that polite people don't share, even though I already know that both of us are going to agree entirely with what the other one has to say.

Well, I'm off to try and start the third act of that damned screenplay. I finally had an idea. I think. We'll see. OK -  I'm done rambling for tonight.

More, anon.
Prospero

*Who knew Old Man Winter was really Samuel L. Jackson?