... where things are ruined before they are barely started
Monday, May 24, 2010
when I was a kid, we used to visit my cousins who lived in southern Missouri.
They had deer ticks, and since dad was a physician he was always concerned about Lyme disease (or some other crazy tick disease from 20 years ago). Anyway, my uncle ran a church camp down there. So we would go visit; they had woods and a lake and ball fields and all kinds of fun stuff.
Every night, tho , we had to have the tick inspection. After we took a shower, dad would inspect me and my brother. We always had at least one tick on us that he would have to extract. Usually with a pair of tweezers.
One night I was under tick inspection, and pop found a tick. In a private area. On my sac. Bear in mind, I was probably about 9 years old. So he tells me to lay down; I lay down and he gets his tweezers. It's about this time I realize that what he thinks is a tick is what I know to be a mole.
I tell him "it's just a mole". He didn't believe me. So he tugs on it "why won't this tick come out" while I'm yelling "it's just a mole! It's just a mole!"