Late at Night, While You're Sleeping. . .

. . .Poison Ivy comes a creepin' around.  (And she's a bitch.)

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Last Friday I thought I would keep myself busy all day without spending any money.  I was super productive around the house, and even took on a task that is supposed to be Matt's: I mowed the lawn.  Easy enough.  Just push the thing around the yard in lines.  I wore shorts and a tank top and flip-flops.  I did run over some plastic thing that shredded to bits and hit my leg and made me start to bleed, but aside from that, there seemed to be no other casualties.

After mowing the lawn, I took Mitch for a walk/jog to the park.  We didn't get far, though, because gigantic black storm clouds came rolling in, and lightning began to strike kind of close to us.  I kept having this awful vision of my little Mitchy getting struck by lightning in front of my face, so we went home before that would become reality. 

I was sweaty and gross, but then I was afraid to get into the shower because I had recently read this post by The Bloggess and I was afraid that I would get struck by lightning if I got in the shower and then Matt would come home to a fried wife and he would be sad.  So I fell asleep instead.  And then I woke up and Matt was home and we ate dinner and I drank too much wine.

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There was no shower.  And what good timing, since apparently I had walked through some poison ivy during my lawn-mowing endeavor (because, regardless of how many times I look at a picture of poison ivy, I can never recognize it in real life), and had opted out of the shower on the day that my body was covered in poison ivy oil.  Fantastic.  So it spread around, and instead of just having poison ivy on my feet, for example, I would scratch the back side of my knee, thus spreading the poison.  Again, fantastic. 

So now I'm covered in little patches of itchy hell, and I'm mad about it. 

It's a good thing that I went to the beach today, so that I could have some healing salt water to help out. (I thought that was just some myth that my grandma would tell me, but today I talked to my biologist friend Jen who told me that salt water does, indeed, help out poison ivy because it's a hypertonic.  She explained what that meant, but I forgot.) 

Between today's healing salt water, and the healing dog kisses that I'm sure Mitch will be providing (since I saved his life during Friday's walk/jog), I'll be better in no time. 

I hear that margaritas have that special healing power, too.

You Suck!!!

So, as you have probably already read, Mandy and I went to the Sand Gnats game on Monday night. The Sand Gnats were victorious, winning 10-4. They batted around in the first inning, scoring 5 runs, including a two-run homer from the second batter. Good times, although sweating out all of the water in my body and replacing it with dollar Natural Lights was probably not the best strategy for a great Tuesday morning.

Anyway, we sat about five rows up on the first base line. Two rows below us and a little to the left was a man who had perhaps the greatest disparity between energy level and signifigance of the event that I have ever seen. My only theory is that he recently moved from either Boston or the Bronx and had simply not adjusted his approach from a Yankees-Red Sox game in October to a single A baseball game on a Monday evening in 100 degree weather. I'm all right with that. I'm all for enthusiasm and can't falut anyone for rooting for our Savannah Sand Gnats. I even enjoy the occasional creative heckling.

But this guy was a giant douche. He would sit quietly for several seconds, maybe taking a sip of his beer, the whole time shaking with the kind of destructive energy that gets people kicked off The Real World, and then he would cup his hands around his mouth and yell something to the effect of "You walked the first guy? You suck, 34! You suck!!!." "They're warming up the bullpen, 34. It's only the first inning. You suck!!! You SUCK!!!" After about 10 minutes Mandy and I were making jokes like, "I wonder if that guy thinks the pitcher sucks? It wouldn't be so bad if he changed it up a little, showed some originality."

So the next day I went into work and the bartender said that a couple of guys from the opposing team had gone to Chili's after the game. Apparently they had been annoyed by a heckler. They said it wouldn't have been so bad if the guy had just had some originality and hadn't kept yelling the same thing. So my question to the heckler would be this. Yes, the pitcher was bad, but pitching is hard. You were terrible at heckling the pitcher, which really isn't that difficult. So, who really sucks?

Matt, Mandy, and Miley go to Tybee.

Today was the first official Matt and Mandy Monday Funday of the summer. We--along with what seemed like half of Savannah--headed out to Tybee for the afternoon. What we did not realize was that Miley Cyrus would be filming her latest movie about 100 yards from us. (Matt claimed not to know, but I've seen all of the Hannah Montana recordings on our DVR, so I think I know what's up.) There were hordes of people trying to catch a glimpse of Miley. We, however, preferred to focus on these babies. I kept catching them with my toes.

Then the boys played bocce ball. Matt says I should add that he won.

And drank lots of beer.

We sat under our new umbrella and read.

Although we didn't really care about the Miley excitement, it was pretty cool to listen to the director shouting throughout the afternoon: "Background! Action!"

Below: if you look really, really closely, you'll see Miley. Not really, but that is where they were filming the movie.

Right now I've had my post-beach shower, I changed the sheets on the bed (no more dog dirt!), and I'm gearing up for another day of fun. We're celebrating our second wedding anniversary tomorrow!