Now, who would guess that an apartment complex would have poison ivy growing on the patio? Not I. And now I'm covered with the stuff.

I've had poison ivy many times in my life, and it's just an annoyance. Blisters, itching, yuckiness. You live through it and it dries up and goes away. But not this time.

I ended up covered in hives, eyes swollen shut, throat swelling. Had to go to the urgent care clinic, where they gave me a shot of steroids and a ten day course of Prednisone, antihistimine eye drops, and Benedryl. Two days later, I still look like the Michelin man, but at least I can breathe and mostly talk, although my throat is very sore.

Jim, of course, doesn't have even a blister to show for it. His worst symptom is sympathy itching.

The doc's theory is that I managed to inhale some of it, which triggered a more serious allergic reaction than just skin exposure would have caused. All I can tell you is that THIS SUCKS.

I've been hungry for really good southern fried chicken for a couple of months now. KFC sucks, these days - the last chicken I bought there wasn't fit to eat. Their coleslaw is still good, but I found a decent knockoff recipe and made that myself. That left just finding a good piece of real fried chicken. There isn't a Popeye's within a hundred miles. So, despite having gone all of my adult life without ever having personally cooked anything that needed more than a tablespoon of oil, I decided to give it a shot.

Being me, I went out and did research. Apparently, the recommended implement (if you're not going to invest in a deep fryer) is a cast iron skillet. So, I bought one. Seasoned it, according to the best southern instructions, several times, until it was glossy black and looked like a real cast iron skillet. I bought a thermometer, since apparently oil temperature is key. I researched oil, and found that while Crisco makes the best chicken, peanut oil or canola oil do ok, so I settled for canola oil. Then I went out to the Food Network site and found a recipe by Paula Dean - if anyone should know about southern fried chicken, that woman should be the expert.

First, let me tell you that it is devilishly difficult to keep a skillet full of oil at some particular temperature while cooking food. According to my husband, this is because we have an electric range. Personally, I think it's because if you put cold food into hot oil, the oil cools off, so the idiot running the range turns it up, and then it gets too hot, so the idiot running the range turns it down... and like that.

Second, 350 degrees may indeed be the ideal temperature for frying chicken, but if so, there is no evidence of that here. 350 degrees successfully burned quite a bit of chicken, though.

Third, if you have severe arthritis in your hands, turning large breasts in 350 degree oil with tongs is quite a trick - and dropping one of those breasts is very messy and excessively painful, even for a masochist.

Fourth, burned fried chicken can easily still be raw on the inside.

Finally, burned fried chicken put into a 350 degree oven to finish cooking the raw inside part will come out dried out and unfit for human consumption.

So here I am, with significant burns to my hand, arm, leg, and foot, still craving chicken, in a house that smells like burned chicken, with a kitchen full of spattered canola oil to clean up.

This was not your basic successful experiment.

And it really is. Job is still great, and they still love me. They're spending money on me, and assigning me to increasingly responsible and important projects, and the CEO of our business unit knows me by name and stops to speak to me and ask me how things are going. People tell my boss, and her boss, what an asset I am. I'm even starting to get calls from recruiters, although I'm not looking and not interested. Pretty amazing how quickly a reputation can build. I'm completely focused on paying off the bills, now, which will take us some time but is now an achievable goal, which means that I may even be able to retire someday....

Jim is still trying to find something close to home so that he can be home at night, but he's still gainfully employed and they treat him well, so we try not to complain. All the kids are good. My Dad has undertaken yet another career, after retiring yet again. He's selling RVs, campers, etc. Seems like an odd choice in this economy, but he's making money at it and having a ball, and he's working because he wants to, not because he has to, so I guess you can't ask for more.

I even like our apartment. It's not ours, but it's big, and quiet, and the neighbors don't drive me mad. I love my new car. I love the CSA we joined, that brings us these awesome, fresh, local veggies every week and has turned out to actually be saving us money on groceries, since the grocery store prices have gone through the roof.

In fact, I can't think of one thing to complain about, on a personal level. Now, don't get me started on banking, or politics, or international relations, but heck, I can't do anything about those things anyway.

Here's my pet project at the moment: Micro-loans to entrepreneurs, mostly in developing countries but some here at home too, who just need a few bucks to try to get going. I LOVE that I can choose people to help and make a difference. I love that I can finance things that I think are important, and target places where I think I can make a difference. And I love that these are loans, not gifts. Not that I expect to get the money back, you understand - personally, I figure to do well if I get even part of it back, given the number of people who just never make their small businesses work - but I just don't believe that charity is the best way to help most people. And, I love that even just the few dollars that I can afford to throw in makes a difference to some single mother raising lamas in Peru who lives in a hut without plumbing. That money makes no difference to me, but it makes a world of difference to her and her business.

Let's see, what else? I'm working on something called the FLMI, I'm studying for my project management certification, I'm off next week to Informatica training, and in August to Business Objects training... I'm BUSY. I'm even learning to enjoy shopping. Well, my version of shopping - now that we live in a bigger city, I've found a store that is run by some society of Jewish ladies for charity that has these AWESOME designer clothes for pennies on the dollar. So, I can wear great stuff to work and nobody is the wiser that I got that $300 jacket for ten bucks.

Did I mention that I'm having fun now?