A couple of weeks ago when my friend Kenny decided to have a bar-b-que at his new digs I noticed the back yard was a treasure trove of stuff his housemate relegated to being strewn helter- skelter. While an amazingly good smelling pork loin was cooking on the charcoal grill, I headed down off the deck to make images among the plethora of textures, colors and shapes laying about on the ground. What I didn't know until the next day was that there were also ticks out there in the yard....and I am a magnet for them....omg.
A few days later, after plucking these nasty things off my legs, and feet, still itching like hell, I went off for a scheduled trip in NYC. Not more than a day later of walking around there, my right foot was swelling up and one of the places where I'd removed a tick began to look like something biblical...along the lines of the plague of boils. I finally gave in and spent Saturday night waiting to see an attending doctor in a Manhattan ER. Not fun.
North Carolina has more ticks than I'm willing to deal with to go off shooting in or near the woods here again, at least until I get whatever that evil smelling stuff is that wards off pestilence.
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