We're holding our breath as we wait to see whether Blair will erupt in a reaction to poison ivy. Blair has spent the better part of the last few weekends digging out by its roots the poison ivy farm that's taken hold of our backyard. He goes out well prepared, wrapped in jeans, long sleeved shirt, and gloves. And so far, he's been able to avoid touching any. However, he was out there on Sunday and as he yanked on a particularly stubborn vine that was growing up a tree, the vine fell down and hit him across the face.
God love him for tackling this chore. I itch even thinking about being near all that poison ivy. I'm convinced I'll break out in a rash if I even breath the same air as the evil three-leaf plant. We had to cancel a romantic get-away trip we'd planned one time when I turned up with poison ivy all over my legs. I was just covered and itchy and miserable and not so much in the mood for any lovin'.
We haven't seen any evidence of a breakout so far, so fingers crossed that maybe he's avoided it.