Feel like screaming? I do. I don't think this life has ever been more chaotic. Is it the moon? the weather?
My grandmother ran a house, farmed, crocheted an afghan for every sentient being in the state of Kansas, tatted little lacy things for all of her tables, chairs, sofas, beds, cooked every meal from scratch, made most of her clothes and matching outfits for all of her grandkids, did church work, and still had time to visit and take little trips.
I've got a house, a garden, and a business and I'm losing my mind. So what's up in your world? What's keeping you (too) busy? Me . . .
Forget trying to write 30 minutes a day. What was that woman thinking? Oh, and "don't put your writing in a blog, my dear, it will forever be ineligible for any serious publishing." I'm thinking fuck that, but I don't have any time to write anyway. Lots of stuff running around in my head, no outlet. That probably contributes to the crazy.
But the fucking snow peas contribute to the crazy, too. What is is it with peas? Every year I try to grow sugar snaps and snow peas, no luck. Our weather is notoriously unpredictable: 90 degrees one day, 50 the next. The peas hate it and now they're twisted green stubs thick with aphids.
And about those aphids. Is there a more repulsive little bug than those nasty things? Fat, grotesquely swollen (with
my plants' juices, the bastards), thick as fleas on the most tender parts of my plants. Hate them. For some reason, I can't see them without thinking of one of those awful diseases the Lutheran missionaries used to terrify us: trachoma.
Click for a bad case of the willies.
The little bit of grass I've got in the garden is above ankle high. It has rained every day for the last 14 and had the sun not come out for an hour on Thursday, I'd likely be locked up now. Regular doses of sun are mandatory for mental health, mine anyway. I don't know how folks live in cloudy places. I'd would truly be homicidal.
A lifelong dumpster diver, I was delighted to come across 50 ~
fifty ~ stems of luscious oriental lilies which have filled the house with their marvelous jasminey spicy scent for the last week. Yay!
Fucking Max Baucus, traitor. And the rest of these right wing fuckers, both Democrat and Republican, who are going to ensure that we will never get health care reform. That may be contributing to my homicidal urges.
I just finished
Kite Runner and I wasn't sure I was going to ever quit crying. I'm in the middle of
The Space Between Us,
Under the Tuscan Sun, and
One Hundred & One Beautiful Small Towns in Mexico (amazing places). What are you reading?
Mexico! Soon! Yay!
Flowers everywhere, tons of roses, lilies, the Reverend Bowring Toadflax sending up white spires in huge sweeps, and the peonies. Peonies are thick this year, and gorgeous. Lots of shades of pink, that classic white with the red splotch, and the dark, rich, wine red, my favorite. They're probably my favorite plant except for the roses. Oh, and the columbines. And lilies. Well, that spicy dianthus ~ delicious.
So the tomato transplants I started from seed are planted, but the peppers never did a thing, so I bought some. Sigh. We've got corn, summer and winter squash, turnips, carrots, radishes, red, yellow, white and blue potatoes, pole beans, lettuce, chard, and cucumbers. We pulled up a massive pile of kale that overwintered and sauteed it into submission with olive oil and garlic. A little sea salt and we had a tasty spring-time mess of greens.
So you? What are you up to? Though I wouldn't wish it on anyone else, I hope that someone's feeling as frantic and undone as I am? Tell, please.
Labels: crazy days, gardening, too much to do
