on the silver screen: the gay divorcee with fred astaire and ginger rogers
a bunch of us had Bible study in the park this morning. lovely day, fresh breezes blowing, warm sunshine filtering through the grove of trees, butterflies and hummingbirds (one of which was almost as big as a finch — no joke) darting in and out … plus great discussion about colossians 1:6-7 and a time of prayer.
yet somehow, even in this idyllic setting, when i was sitting down just for 15 minutes to pray and read my Bible by myself … at least four ticks crawled onto my person. two of these i found this afternoon after a nap, and i managed to pry them off after liberally dousing them with alcohol. number three fell out of my hair (or off of me somewhere) after i finished eating dinner. at that my mother had me go take a shower, change my clothes and put the others i’d been wearing in the washer. my dad was heading downstairs when i came out a little while later, so he cocked an eye at me and queried “tick free?”
“well, if coal tar, peppermint oil, pearl dust and cocoa can’t choke a tick, i don’t know what can,” i replied.
yet somehow another of the little buggers managed to sink his teeth (jaws?) into me. i found him hooked to my leg just a few minutes ago. i have a lot of freckles of various sizes all over my body, so believe me when i say that after that i (re)checked each and every spot i could reach very carefully to make sure it was supposed to be attached to me. ugh. i hate ticks.