And I thought I was small...

I have climbed into the boat that ferries the unsuspecting down the river toward middle aged. One might think that, at this stage, I've arrived at a certain level of 'been there, done that.' Apparently, there are still new experiences to be had in this life and I'm soaking up the joy of one right now...

I have poison ivy.

This may not seem unusual to those who spend long summers scratching at rashy skin that is coated a divine shade of calamine pink. But I, Zaedah, have never, ever had the pleasure. It's something to brag about and, if you're me (apologies in advance) there is, on average, so precious little to boast about. I've grabbed the three-leafed nuisance with bare hands and flung the vines carelessly over our fence for eons. Folks, I've even strangled poison sumac with no consequences.

I've been pink all week.

But alas, I did a little internet research - and we all know how reliable that is - and found numerous mentions of tea tree oil as a cure-all for this annoyance. So I jaunt over to the local health store and alas, I could not locate the stuff despite a whopping ten minutes of aisle wandering. I mean, seriously, the store only has four aisles. The reason I missed it became clear later, when I finally held the supposed fixer in hand...
People, it's tiny! Imagine 'Honey I Shrunk the Nail Polish' and you'll have some idea. Or better yet, give yourself a thumbs up, paying particular attention to the size of your thumb nail and you have the gist. But don't worry, it gets better. The cost of this micro-wonder?Yip, what equates to a half a tank of gas is spent on this thing. Thus the rate at which I'm using the oil is the rough equivalent of waving the fumes over my skin. They mentioned neither the size nor the price on those sites that praised the stuff. I will report the success or failure of my experiments, but be assured that in the meantime, I will be avoiding three-leafed things for the rest of time.