05.27.08
There is nothing left for us here
I spent the weekend on my knees getting dirty. That can be taken anyway anyone sees fit and it would be true…or true enough, as it were.
Mark my words that come mid-August, it is best believed there will be some exhausted rantings about how fucking stupid it was to put out 20 Kirby cucumber plants, all for the love of pickles. I’ve warned Jeff already that him crying and whining about spending most of the weekends in August and part of September in the kitchen, over a hot stove sterilizing jars and boiling pickling brine will fall on very deaf ears. I just grow ‘em and do what I’m told. Seriously, mark it on your calendars.
The first summer naps of which I’m so fond was had on Sunday. Jeff’s mom spent the weekend with us and while we’d planned to do some shoping on Sunday and catch the new Indiana Jones flick, but by our 2pm departure, all three of us were cast in what probably looked like a fine funeral repose. All of us stretched out on the big new Pottery Barn couch/sectional thing we bought for the new screened in deck, snoozing away. I love the fact that I roused myself in the middle of it to find I’d stuffed my hand down Jeff’s pants right next to his mom. That’s how we roll with Charlotte. I would say this was a vast improvement over my normal routine where I’ve stuffed my hands so far into my armpits and clamped down with such force as to render both hands numb from a lack of circulation. At least in Jeff’s pants, I still had sensations…both in my hands and my pants.
So things grow. I put in a ton of periennials that I’d been meaning to do, trying to make the back flower bed off our porch into a butterfly and humming bird garden. Lots of cone flowers and black-eyed susans with a smattering of some different daisy varieties and a returning bed of bright red pom-pom’ed Mondara. I’m fearful that there is no good design in how I planted things but I think as long as they grow I’m content. I’m trying to slowly but surely kill my constant need for good design in everything because it renders me completely incapable of moving forward on any project.
I spent some time this weekend staring at the pig mural I painted on the side of our workshop. I’d link to the picture but it has once again escaped me to actually put the picture on some accessible media I could actually use. The closest I have is the pre-picture so imaginations will have to be used. I have visions and have actually researched on how to silk screen using a home-grown system. I think the mural would make a fine and spiffy t-shirt. Fine and Spiffy being my current direction in personal growth and flair.
Now I’m on that Tuesday-Feels-Like-Monday-After-A-Holiday schedule, riding the train back down to Philadelphia for work. All of which is still Fine and Spiffy with me, dirty or not.