Fun and itching
Bill and I had a blast celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary wtih a t rip to Lawrence on Friday evening. Lawrence is the home of University of Kansas and it is a happening place. Nothing like living in a place as quiet as Matfield to make you (me) appreciate block after block of restaurants, coffee shops with outdoor seating and actual people in the seats, art galleries, a renovated downtown movie house, used bookstores. The works! We drank coffee. We strolled and window shopped. At a trendy and beautifully decorated restautant with giant picture windows called Pachamamma's we ate ocean trout (Julia) and mixed grill (Bill). Enjoyed a wonderful mix of gnocchi, figs and baby beets and a salad of tender greens with hearts of palm. We drank good red wine and toasted each other.
After dinner we stopped at The Merc on our way out of town - the food Co-op - where we bought the good stuff: organic bulk oatmeal, goat cheese, ginger tea, free range buffalo burgers.
As we hit the road I remember saying to Bill that my thighs were itching. By halfway home I wanted to take my pants of and scratch. But we were going to stop at a Dairy Queen if we saw one, so I left my pants on, telling myself that the itching was a figment of my imagination.
My mind is more trustworthy than I thought. When we got home and I pulled off my trousers I spotted dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny brown dots - about 1/2 the size of a pin head - all over my inner thighs and along the outside of the elastic of my underpants. Some of them were moving, and they had at least four legs. Others were stuck in my skin, hard to dislodge even with tweezers. Yuck! Bill went to work with rubbing alchohol. Murdering them as fast as he could. I showered with Fells Naptha soap. Brushed off some dead ones. More alchohol. Another shower. Just 10 or 20 left now, and probably dead. We went to sleep, hardly daring to cuddle for fear I'd spread the infestation. Even then I'd feel a little itch and, turning on the light, find one more live one crawling across my arm or the back of my neck. Creepy.
The next day we washed all of our clothes in hot hot water and surfed the internet trying to identify the tiny intruders. For awhile Bill had me convinced they were scabies and that we'd both need a trip to the doctor and a month's worth of topical insecticide. An Emporia pharmacist reassured me that scabies were highly unlikely. He suggested chiggers and said just keep washing and treating with anti-itch cream. But the funny thing is now that they were dead even the dozen or so that were left hanging on my skin weren't itching.
Two days later now I check my thigh and notice just 2 or three left. One more shower and perhaps they'll be history. Nancy Marshall suggests authoritively that they are seed ticks. Better google that to see what my future has in store for me.
After dinner we stopped at The Merc on our way out of town - the food Co-op - where we bought the good stuff: organic bulk oatmeal, goat cheese, ginger tea, free range buffalo burgers.
As we hit the road I remember saying to Bill that my thighs were itching. By halfway home I wanted to take my pants of and scratch. But we were going to stop at a Dairy Queen if we saw one, so I left my pants on, telling myself that the itching was a figment of my imagination.
My mind is more trustworthy than I thought. When we got home and I pulled off my trousers I spotted dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny brown dots - about 1/2 the size of a pin head - all over my inner thighs and along the outside of the elastic of my underpants. Some of them were moving, and they had at least four legs. Others were stuck in my skin, hard to dislodge even with tweezers. Yuck! Bill went to work with rubbing alchohol. Murdering them as fast as he could. I showered with Fells Naptha soap. Brushed off some dead ones. More alchohol. Another shower. Just 10 or 20 left now, and probably dead. We went to sleep, hardly daring to cuddle for fear I'd spread the infestation. Even then I'd feel a little itch and, turning on the light, find one more live one crawling across my arm or the back of my neck. Creepy.
The next day we washed all of our clothes in hot hot water and surfed the internet trying to identify the tiny intruders. For awhile Bill had me convinced they were scabies and that we'd both need a trip to the doctor and a month's worth of topical insecticide. An Emporia pharmacist reassured me that scabies were highly unlikely. He suggested chiggers and said just keep washing and treating with anti-itch cream. But the funny thing is now that they were dead even the dozen or so that were left hanging on my skin weren't itching.
Two days later now I check my thigh and notice just 2 or three left. One more shower and perhaps they'll be history. Nancy Marshall suggests authoritively that they are seed ticks. Better google that to see what my future has in store for me.
posted by Julia at
4:22 PM
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