Breathe In, Breathe Out
My email isn't working. That's like having my right hand chewed off by a rotweiller.
My car is packed to the gills with 412, 000 pounds of used school uniforms which I have to figure out how to get into a locked school because actually selling them is not my look-out but if I don't get them out of my car I can't go grocery shopping.
The Child is wearing me out. I feel like a Judiciary Committee member trying to get Alberto Gonzales to answer a straight question. It's not that she's being sneaky or deceitful, mind. It's just that every single solitary discussion for the last 48 hours has been an argument. Not a yelling, screaming argument. A "But Muh-ommmm" argument, a "ok, but just listen because I was thinking..." argument. An "oh-for-the-love-of-Mike-could-you-just-do-xyz-instead-of-telling-me-why-you-can't-right-now" argument.
Worn. Out. And it's only 10 a.m.
The Blue Angels will be here soon to freak out my little dog.
On the plus side, it rained last night so I don't have to water my garden and it will make it easier to pull the abundance of weeds that are still left in my front garden, even though I've been pulling weeds (oh, most thankless of tasks) all week. And why do I have to pull weeds, you ask? Because The Hat is coming to dinner tomorrow night and other people are coming for a bbq on Sunday. And I just want things to look pretty for them. (Which also means I have to mop things. Drat).
My car is packed to the gills with 412, 000 pounds of used school uniforms which I have to figure out how to get into a locked school because actually selling them is not my look-out but if I don't get them out of my car I can't go grocery shopping.
The Child is wearing me out. I feel like a Judiciary Committee member trying to get Alberto Gonzales to answer a straight question. It's not that she's being sneaky or deceitful, mind. It's just that every single solitary discussion for the last 48 hours has been an argument. Not a yelling, screaming argument. A "But Muh-ommmm" argument, a "ok, but just listen because I was thinking..." argument. An "oh-for-the-love-of-Mike-could-you-just-do-xyz-instead-of-telling-me-why-you-can't-right-now" argument.
Worn. Out. And it's only 10 a.m.
The Blue Angels will be here soon to freak out my little dog.
On the plus side, it rained last night so I don't have to water my garden and it will make it easier to pull the abundance of weeds that are still left in my front garden, even though I've been pulling weeds (oh, most thankless of tasks) all week. And why do I have to pull weeds, you ask? Because The Hat is coming to dinner tomorrow night and other people are coming for a bbq on Sunday. And I just want things to look pretty for them. (Which also means I have to mop things. Drat).
I organized my own closet yesterday. That was fun. And I really love my new purse, which I take everywhere, even just to the store to get ice and tonic water.
Blogger wasn't uploading pictures earlier this morning but it is now. See? Here are pictures of what my garden looks like when I ignore the weeds and take closeups. Clever, huh?
Hops, from which The Spouse will make beer in the fall.
Grapes are coming on nicely. Good thing, as we are nearly out of jelly.
Creeping thyme with a concrete pillow.
Artichokes for ornament.
Labels: assorted things, garden things
cobbled together by Moi at 10:03 AM
17 Comments:
I can't believe I'm going to have to deal with Seafair traffic tomorrow. Shows what I must think of you, little miss lady.
And puhleeze! Don't you dare mop on my account. I'm just going to spill my wine all over the place anyway. Have you learned nothing from the club?
Yeah, about that. I'll have to call you with an alternate route...you so don't want to be on Rainier in the afternoon.
And I have to mop. Things are sticking to the floor. That's always a sign.
I really hadn't grasped the concept that you two actually live close enough to each to SEE each other in the flesh whenever you darned well pleased! Of course, I KNEW that, but it had never sunk into my consciousness until this very moment, and now that it has, I am so damned jealous it's not even funny.
And the garden piccies - delectable.
The arguing with the Child part? YS is 21 and it's still like that some days. Today was one of those days. He's off, I'm not. You think he'd happily offer to mow the front yard for me, right? Why then, when I suggest he do that nice thing for his wonderful mom who does everything for him, does he go all ballistic about how it's his day off and he had plans and now I've gone and messed them up by asking him to spend 45 minutes mowing. So exhausting.
Oh...Loooove the purse, btw. Forgot to say that yesterday.
Sniff, sniff...I'm jealous too. Gina can almost never come and play and everyone else lives someplace that's, well, inhabitated.
I have purse jealousy too. I'll trade you the purse for two kittens..wanna trade?
The chokes are beautiful.
Gina: Don't be jealous. We promise not to have a smidge of fun and stare in sullen silence at each other until one of us comes up with a clever excuse for cutting the evening short.
Ungrateful children. Pft.
Rosie: That is a really lovely offer but, uh, no.
Lorraine-ey,
Let me know when your e-mail is back up--I owe you an e-mail! *smiles*
Love,
MHP :)
Hi!! Michele sent me to tell you that I'm very jealous that your garden is so beautiful.
Hope you have a fun weekend. Glad to *meet* a new person. Off to read some more of your posts
MHP: All systems go!
Shoe Addict: a) Love the name. Hello? Relate much? I think I do. 2) That Michelle...I played today, too, and found someone new and fun to read. Love. That. Welcome...come around any ol' time.
Is that mint in your garden?..No matter..Cleverly done!
To my surprise,I'm not at all jealous that The Hat gets to hang out for dinner at your house,or that you guys get to have tons of giggles,and party at the club,and...crap.
I hear the northwest is the best for growing hops.
Sling, why, yes. I happen to have so much mint at the moment that I am treating it like a weed. I'm thinking mojitos at the club this weekend. And you know that every 2nd thing we say will be, "Gee, this would be so much funnier if Sling was here". September, dude. I'm telling you.
Iwanski: what the hell are you doing up so late? Go to bed, man. And yeah, we're all about the hops. You should taste some of The Spouse's home brew. It's da bomb. And I don't even like beer that much.
Your man makes beer? Seriously? Score!
Welcome to 8th grade. It's grand. I swear, last week, my son wore my ass out too. It's like, can we have ONE day, just one, in which you don't needle me to death about hanging out with your girlfriend? What the hell are you doing with a girlfriend at 14 anydamnway? And since when did it become your right to see her every other day in summer? Clean your room.
Just have your little dog lick up the Hat's spilled wine before the Blue Angels fly over. Two birds with one stone and all that. I can't decide if i want to battle traffic to go see them this year.
OH! Your garden is wonderful! Artichokes and grapes? And they're so pretty! I wanna go frolic in it and eat things.
Yep, Cowbell, he taught himself after we moved from the apartment and he had "room" to brew.
So these 8th graders? Do we just smack 'em or what? I need a copy of the protocol asap.
I'll try and get a photo of the Angels dive bombing my house, just in case you sanely decide to stay home and watch them on TV.
Monica: you may frolic at will. Just watch out for the stray blackberry brambles, the dog jam in the back and that kiddie pool...the one that The Child outgrew 5 years ago and is just a manky breeding ground for mosquito larvae.
(See, Hat? I gotta clean this joint up!)
Nice garden pics, don't do beer, tho. Have a good visit and BBQ!
howdy and who do you think this is ba ha ha ha
Anonyba, someone who likes the fragrance of cucumbers?
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