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filkferengiA long time ago, when dinosaurs walked the earth, and Himself and I were still dating, he made his annual spring training pilgrimage [Chaucer & Ista in spring have nothing on my fellow for "goon on pilgrimagen" ;)] without me. Failing to heed my sage sunscreen screed, he came home several days later peeling heavily in the face and was immediately christened "Leprosy Man" by a heavily amused and frankly unsympathetic me. [I'm evil like that.]
Our back yard is fenced on three sides in chain-link fence [which was here when we moved in]. The back side of our lot is behind a church which literally *never* does anything with or about their militant back-lot. Our neighbors on the right likewise are letting vines engulf their *house*, let alone their side of the fence. Therefore, at least once every couple of years, my spouse is compelled to labor mightily to stem the kudzu and poison-ivy tsunami surfing over the fence. [Talk about a performance that's--quite literally--over the top! ;(]
The first year he labored thus, he wound up plastered in pustules in peculiar places. I was liberal in sympathy and also recommended long sleeves for future labors.
Like the best of good advice, it once again went unheeded, and my "best boy" finds himself well-armed for his work, if that work is blisters and blight upon the landscape. Leprosy Man lives again!
What makes him my hero is the unfaltering cheer and goodwill with which he bears the consequences of his heedlessness.
That, and I suspect we may have given profitne a thorough bellylaugh at a time when she needed one.
Our back yard is fenced on three sides in chain-link fence [which was here when we moved in]. The back side of our lot is behind a church which literally *never* does anything with or about their militant back-lot. Our neighbors on the right likewise are letting vines engulf their *house*, let alone their side of the fence. Therefore, at least once every couple of years, my spouse is compelled to labor mightily to stem the kudzu and poison-ivy tsunami surfing over the fence. [Talk about a performance that's--quite literally--over the top! ;(]
The first year he labored thus, he wound up plastered in pustules in peculiar places. I was liberal in sympathy and also recommended long sleeves for future labors.
Like the best of good advice, it once again went unheeded, and my "best boy" finds himself well-armed for his work, if that work is blisters and blight upon the landscape. Leprosy Man lives again!
What makes him my hero is the unfaltering cheer and goodwill with which he bears the consequences of his heedlessness.
That, and I suspect we may have given profitne a thorough bellylaugh at a time when she needed one.
