Sittin On A Porch

Sittin On A Porch
Our little back porch

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Another Opening

It has been quite a ride.  Our last rehearsal, last Monday, was OK.  Then we had a read through on Tuesday, and well, it was awful.  We could have had a rehearsal on Wednesday night, but I am exhausted and our weakest part of the show was lines.  And having one more rehearsal and wearing everyone out because some of our cast still did not know their lines.  And struggling through lines and emphasizing bad habits was not going to make them any better.  So with the hopes that those who did not know their lines would work hard on their own, Wednesday and Thursday before our dress rehearsal/preview show, we did not request the additional rehearsal.

Thursday nights show started off with a bang!  That is what I would like to say, but actually it opens up with a song and the person singing the song, bless her heart started out fine, but forgot the words about half way through.  And the show really didn't get much better after that.  Nerves, people new to the stage.  A small stage, that we thought by putting it in the corner we would be able to put more people in the room, but we were wrong.  Plus now the stage is in a pocket and the sound seems to get stuck up there and to the actors it sounds loud.  But with the new air conditioning unit the room gets cold and comfortable for the audience, but it is loud and we have that much more problem with the actors projecting.

There is a theater saying that a bad dress rehearsal ensures a great opening night.  And yes, we did have a great opening night.  All but 2 projected well and consistently.  Two have strong accents so it is hard to understand them anyway, and then they are small people and well, their voices are at a range that just isn't carrying.  But they tried.  Everyone tried.

Judy, the co-director and I met with them last night and said, don't worry about a thing.  This is a play, just get out there and have fun.  And they did, and the audience could tell, and it was a very nice opening night.  Tonight, it will be so much better again, because they survived a so-so performance, and now they have seen what it is like to have a good performance, and I know they will just keep getting better and better.  And they are a lovely group, and it has been a lot of fun.  And although it was not the best decision I have ever made, co-directing a play in the middle of starting a new chemo treatment.  I am so very grateful that this cast has been so understanding, that I had such a great friend and talented co-director to work with, and that Denise, was our set and prop Manager.  Such talented people.  And it is a fun show, and our Virginia is amazing and has been every thing I could hope for.  

Was it worth the toll on my body, my sanity and my life to direct this play?  As I sit here too exhausted to go out and work in the garden, too nauseous to take a long ride in the toy with the top down on a glorious day like today, yes it was worth it.  To start months and months ago with Judy reading the script dreaming of all the possibilities, casting the characters, doing all the behind the scenes work, watching the words become people in a far away land with accents and singing and dancing and mystery, mayhem and murder.  Yes, it is worth all of this.  

It was worth driving up to the Opera House and setting tables this afternoon.  It was worth how I feel right now.  Because tomorrow all I have to do is take Jessie's graduation present to her birthday party.  And tomorrow is May Day, and I will find the time to dig in the dirt tomorrow and plant more of my plants, patiently waiting for their new home.  And it will be Beltane and I will celebrate the ancient festival of fertility and spring.  May day is my favorite day of the entire year.  it is a "between" day.  It is a day in nature when it turns from winter to spring in the ancient beliefs, and anything can happen in between.  And I have the buoy bell hung, so I can ring the bell to chase away any unwanted sprites or imps that may wish to cause mayhem during the in between.  I love the old legends and myths.  They give us an inner view of the evolution of human thinking.  From evil spirits to germs and viruses, from the devil to disease, from magic to science.  And yet so much of what we now know and view with a scientific eye is still so beautiful and magical.

I am feeling better these days, mentally.  I have pushed myself too far, and it will take time to snap back to my comfort zone as a Pollyanna.  And I need to sit still more and rest more   and Recover from pushing myself too far.  But how do we know our limits if we do not try and push it a little.  OK, my little may be overboard to others.  And that is OK.  

Tonight another performance and we will have made it through the first weekend.  Tomorrow is May Day!!!  And maybe by that point I will be able to think clearer and write another post that makes a little more sense then this one feels right now.  

It is a glorious day here, and what a wonderful and life overflowing with gifts I have. 

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Peep Hunt

Today is Easter and in this household this means a peep hunt.  12 years ago when Maggie was 3 years old, the same age as Bob is now, and Harry and Lily were one year old I had an Easter egg hunt.  I made my dye from ingredients found in the kitchen, red cabbage, yellow onion skins and beet juice.  I was starting out with brown and green eggs from my own chickens.  The colors were subtle and lovely and the safest way to have an Easter egg hunt for 3 Labradors that will be carry the eggs in their mouth.  Theoretically.  The two of us had baskets and we walked around the yard with the dogs and as they picked up the eggs they were rewarded with a peep when they gave up the egg.  After a while our baskets were only half as full as they should have been, and where was Lily?  Maggie had walked around the yard with me and Harry with his father, and in our excitement we had not noticed that Lily had slipped off to get an egg and then never came back.  The egg hunt now turned into a Lily hunt.  We found her under a bush chomping and crunching on an egg.  We lured her out from under the bush with a peep which she quickly accepted and then she smiled up at us.  Her teeth and lips were colored like an Easter egg.  And I never found one dozen of the eggs I had hidden. 

That is not exactly true, I have a strong feeling that the horrific gas reminiscent of sulfur hydroxide, bad eggs, were those dozen eggs.  For 2 weeks.  Yep, for 2 weeks whenever we were near Lily, especially inside tears just flowed from our eyes and a green gas cloud encompassed my beautiful yellow lab.  And it took weeks for the bluish/reddish color to wear off around her mouth.  Even with what seemed like gallons of Febreeze the house had a bad egg smell for the longest time.  To this day I am not particularly fond of Febreeze.

The next year we started the annual tradition of the "peep hunt" replacing the hard boiled eggs.  That worked out well for Harry because he is so big and his mouth so large that he could just stand in an area and inhale and the peeps would fly into his mouth.  I might be exaggerating slightly, but he could walk along waving his head back and forth and just inhale the marshmallowie goodness.  Maggie would pick up the nearest one to her and then walk around the yard drooling with the single peep in her mouth.  She would keep that peep in her mouth until it literally dissolved into a gooie mess that would stick to her teeth and then she would try to wipe it off, on the couch, or a chair, so I would have to walk around behind her cleaning up the furniture as I tried to lure her into the bathroom so I could wash away the peep.  Yes, disgusting and work for me.  But she seemed to get such pleasure out of her antics.  She was always so good, this was one of her very few bad behaviors so I would forget this habit of hers and each year I would go through this again and again.  After awhile it just seemed to be the tradition.  An irritating one, but a tradition none the less.  And don't we all have some family tradition that just ain't right.  Or is it just me?

Now when we instituted the peep hunt Lily was just as happy about this as she was with the hard boiled eggs.  She would run up to each peep, carefully pick it up and then bring it back to me and spit it out on my shoes.  Then look at me with the "Peep, Peep, I found a peep, a peep, I found a peep.  Aren't I a good girl, peep, peep, I found a peep."  I would hug her and tell her what a good girl she was, after sufficient compliments she would eat the peep and then repeat the entire process.  Over and over and over.  I think she found close to a dozen peeps and was just as excited about the last one as she had been with the first.  Lily was a very special child.

By the time we had the first peep hunt, both Lily and Harry were two years old.  They grew into adult dogs on their second birthday.  Like all good labs should do.  Bob is three, he is still a baby.  He has decided he is not interested in growing up.  But he is a good boy, and not a giant, so it is not as difficult having a 3 year old puppy, where we had 3 dogs with Maggie, Harry and Lily and Harry is freakishly giant for a lab and Lily was a good sized girl herself.  So thankfully at 2 years old they decided to grow up, sit down and give up most of their bad baby habits.  

Friday for earth day my friend Bob and I went to the Lincoln High School plant sale.  We went to where they had the sale last year.   No sale.  But there were the most beautiful gardens with a pond and lots of water plants and areas just filled with butterfly plants, and it was gorgeous, simply gorgeous.  So we walked back to my toy to try and look in a different part of the school for the plant sale.  Bob climbs in over the top like in Hawaii 50.  Well, not to miss out on the fun, I also climbed over and in to my car.  It is a little high to do that, but it is kind of fun.  We continued to use this as our mood of getting into the car for the rest of the trip.  So we drove around to the front of the school found the sale and bought a few things.  I wanted a red porter weed, they didn't have any, but I did pick up a couple of pentas and salvias which will add some much needed texture to my garden that is mostly bulbs with long pointy leaves.  I need some different shaped and textured leaves to give a little interest to my garden and these plants should help.  They are annuals here unlike in south Florida were they are perennial, but that is OK.  You can get them reasonably enough each year.  And the salivias have come back with mixed results. Some come back with vigor in my other garden, and some of my favorite colored ones did not make it more then one year.  But that is one of the many things to like about plants.  They have their season, and they will give you their all for that season and then they may or may not come back.  And that is OK.  You can always replace them with the same or different plants.  And if you kill a plant for the most part they are not gross and gory, not like loosing an animal or person.  Plats just fade away.  Trees of course can be a bit more of a problem because of their size, but they do not yell or cry out, they simply are pushed aside by something that will thrive in that spot.  Very civilized I think.  Much more so then humans.

I hung one of my bells yesterday, the buoy bell.  I have this chain that weighs as much as the bell. Maybe more.  I pulled out the big ladder, drug it over to an oak tree that has a limb that would work.  I lifted the chain as far up as I could and hung it on the ladder so that when I climbed the 10 feet above it I could pull the chain up to the next level.  Then I climbed to almost the top of the ladder and pulled the chain up further.  Up to the next to the last step and I could hang on to the tree and lift part of the chain over the branch and adjusted the chain.  Then down the ladder and I was able to just lift the bell up to hang.  Fortunately Judy and Denise were just pulling up and Denise assisted me to maneuver the bell into place to hang.  It is hanging a bit low.  But it is hanging.  I think if it was up a little higher I think it would catch more wind.  So I will pull out the ladder again and try to adjust it.  But not today.

Today, I was supposed to go to Lily/Jason/Owen's for an Easter brunch and egg hunt.  But I am not having a good day.  I have been very moody and weepy.  I spent most of yesterday unproductively sitting and crying.  I thought that putting my big girl panties on and getting to watch Owen at his first real egg hunt would help, but I am too paralyzed to get dressed and leave the house.  I will have to put on some old clothes and head over to the Opera House to paint the set. This evening I will drive into Tally to see Spamalot.  Hopefully I will be in a better mood because I am in a dark, sad, depressed mood.  Yes, even Pollyanna has a bad day.  I finished Thuggee's robe.  I have finished the newspaper for the show, and made copies for all handouts I had.  I have no reason to be in this mood.  But it has been growing over the past couple of days and last night it was particularly bad, and not much better today.  I don't want to be in this mood, so I will do whatever I can to make it better.  Maybe ice cream.  I know that it is OK to be a little sad or depressed.  And maybe part of this is what I am holding on to, holding in.  I have to write Larry's obit.  I have to plan his memorial service.  I need to get up and put on big girl panties and deal with this.  Make an ending.  Have a conclusion to this relationship of 25 years.  To put him to rest.  And I have a new friend in my life that is somehow without his knowledge or input somehow causing me to drag up a lot of old emotion about this past life.  Something about him makes my heart feel things that I have not felt in a long time.  Not normal things you feel about someone you do not know well.  No, these feelings are feelings that have not be closed from a marriage that is long gone, and literally dead.  My brain knows that these emotions are not from this other person, but for whatever reason he is a catalyst that is causing all of this turmoil.  So as much as I would like to be friends and even get to know this other person a little better, maybe this is not a healthy thing for me now.  I will not deny that I obviously need to deal with these emotions and I am hoping that the memorial service will help.  But for today, maybe ice cream or a chocolate bunny will help.  I will open my heart and examine all the packages that I have carefully wrapped and hidden away in that closet in my heart.  But not today.  And as much as I hate giving up a friend, I may have to do that until I am ready to open that closet.  I have tried to figure out what this other person has or does or is that brings this out in me, and I can not come up with something substantial enough to really count.  So today I will just have to deal with these emotions as best as I can.  Slip away to be alone and cry, just sob my eyes out.  Each time I do that I feel a little release.  I cried through most of the Wizard of Oz last night.  I sang and recited along with the movie and smiled and cried.  Tears of release.  Not specific to anything in particular, but just releasing.  And for as long as many of the packages in the closet have been put away I don't even remember what they are or were put away for.  But that does not mean that they do not have to be dealt with, they do.  And I will someday.  someday, not today.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

An Armadillo

If it is OK, I would like to get the whining out of the away straight forth.  I am turning back into a hard core doer.  That is not good.  That is not right.  That is my nature.  I am so worried about not having enough time to make it to my June 9th retirement date, that I have been working 5 - 7 hours a day.  You see I think I am normal again.  I know I am not really, but honestly, I am so tired of having cancer.  That is another part of my nature.  I have no patience with being sick, or sad, or any negative feelings, so I work it off.  I feel like Seabiscuit, the horse that won all those races, even on bad feet or through pain, that horse would just work it off, run it off, walk it off.  So as illogical as it is, to quit "being sick" I have thrown myself back into things.  Back to doing.  A human doer.  Honestly I loved the times that my body made me sit still and experience, for more then a day what it meant to be a human being instead of a human doing.  

But it is not my true nature

And I have a very strong, driving, doing nature.

But I am noticing that when I leave work after 5 - 7 hours I walk out to the car and I feel the exhaustion wrap itself around me like the heat and humidity that has settled in here this early spring.  I go home and I am so tired that I sit.  I don't do those little things we all must do, like clean the house, mow the lawn, weed the garden, plant the plants, sew the costume, cook food.  And yes, I have lost that weight I had worked so hard to gain back.  I am not at my thinnest by any means.  I am actually just a couple of pounds off of my "natural weight" which many would think is too thin to begin with, but it is the weight that I have been for most of my full size life.  But wearing myself out shows on my face and then even a couple of pounds and I look a little haggard.  I feel that way, so why should I be surprised that it shows on my face.  And I am getting one of my eye things.  This one seems more like a sty then the previous ones have.  Whenever I have gone to the doctor for these before, he always said they were like sties.  And I am getting the "rash" which is really just a nice way to say acne, one spot a week.  Not so bad.  Except that they seem to get infected or are infections when they come up.  So, not the best looking week.  And all of these things are made worse by over doing and not resting, or sleeping enough.  

Yet there is more then enough work to go around in that office.  I feel guilty walking out with my staff so over loaded with no help in sight.   So I stay and work a little longer.  And then a little longer the next day.  Then the next day I take work home to do at night as I sit in my chair.  It is less stressful working here at home, and I can work at a little slower pace and achieve twice as much as if I had to do both the work at work and the work I do at home.  I can still count some time for this work at home.   But the problem arises that I fail to recognize this is still work.  And it is still taking away from time to do things for myself instead of for the state.  And it is taking my time I could be resting instead of working.  

Sigh, it is my nature  And I am a strong believer of mind over matter, but my will to control my mind is apparently no challenge to my ability to do.

My fear of starving to death has also over ridden any well laid plans to retire and enjoy life.  Oh no, I must have a job.  I must get up and put on a bra and a smile and a happy attitude and go to a job where they give me a check every two weeks.  I will work twice as hard as necessary to earn that check.  But then I am a woman who has spent all of my life in the world of men.  I have had to do twice as much twice as well to earn the respect of the men around me.  And I have done that.  But what do I need to prove now?  I have done my best to open doors for all people.  I was the first woman to supervise Feed, Seed, Fertilizer and Pesticide inspectors for the state.  I have done a few firsts.  They do not feel like big firsts now.  But at the time they were hard earned, and now that they seem everyday because of the woman before me, and of my generation who said, this is ridiculous.  It does not matter the color of your skin, the name of the god of your religion, the sex of the person you fall in love with, whether or not you have an XX or an XY chromosome.  It is your knowledge, skills and abilities that should be judged.  And we have come a long way.  But it is time for me to move out of the way and let this generation decide what they want to accomplish and how.  I have earned the right to wear ugly dresses and big hats and grow tomatoes.  I have earned the right to sit in my gardens for hours with a trowel poised above a hole staring off at a butterfly dancing amongst the flowers, sipping and flitting wings covered in jewel toned scales reflecting the light back in ever changing patterns.

I did that as a child constantly.

And now as an adult when I can now name the Latin name of the insect, I get up and drive to an office.  And after I am retired I will work 3 days a week inside a shop.  And I am excited about the change of jobs.  And I am looking forward to slipping into the community I have lived in for 4 1/2 years and getting to better know these lovely people in this town.  But what about the best laid plans for Wednesday sewing group.  The monthly vegetarian luncheon.  The Tai Chi classes.  They are already shoved to the bottom of the list.

My rant is done, spent, worked out.  I see more clearly the corner I am painting myself into.  I can not say I will change, for I can not put that pressure on myself.  But I am more aware of my nature and the things I do then I was a year ago.  I feel a little rested just saying out loud how foolish I am being.  And instead of making plans to do less.  Which the sentence alone makes no sense.  I will try and think about being a little moderate.  

I have cancer, I should rest my body and be kind to it.

I have cancer, that is a limiter on what I will be able to do and for how long, so I should do as much as I can while I still can.

There are the 2 sides that struggle in me constantly.

Last night I heard one of my cats talking to someone.  I opened the back door and there just fresh coming out of its little house under my back deck was the fattest armadillo I have ever seen.  The light startled the poor creature and it turned with difficulty being such a girthy thing and waddled and scrambled back to the steps up the bottom one, and then in between it and the next to push back down into it's lovely hole.  The first thought that came to my mind was of Arnold.  The pig on Green Acres.  Arnold was not fat or girthy for a pig, pigs have a particular shape, and  this Armadillo was shaped quiet like that, and with it's little Armadillo feet  and ears it looked so much like a pig.  So of course it is obvious that I shall call this child Arnold.  I have known I had an Armadillo for quiet a while, but I was not sure if the hole was its home or maybe another creature, like a opossum, that I would not want living in as close of proximity to my chickens as this.  Arnold does reek havoc on my yard, digging for grubs in the lawn and in the gardens, but that is a far different story then eating my chickens.  So Arnold is welcome to live here with the rest of us.  Brave little portly creature to live near Bob and the cats.  But they all seem to be cohabiting quite nicely, so that is working out well.

I just spoke to Ms Judy and she said, well do you think it is pregnant?  I never considered the reason for the girthieness of my Arnold, or is it Annette?  That would make perfect sense.  This animal has just re-dug the entrance to its home under my porch.  This is a very fertile piece of property.  Just look at the rabbits who have been putting on X rated shows in the pasture lately.  Right out in front of god and neighbors and everyone.  Mostly ZB, my brown with black stripped rabbit.  Stripped like a zebra.  This will take a little thought now that I have a new possibility in my mind concerning my new welcomed child.  Arnold or Annette?

This morning when Bob was nuzzling up trying to wake me so I could feed him or throw the ball, not necessarily in that order, I opened the back door and lay in bed listening to all the birds.  I heard a program on Science Friday yesterday talking about sound scape's and what a wonderful tool recordings of natural areas are making in the science world.  These recordings can help speak to the fact of preserving different ecosystems and how you can hear the health of an ecosystem change sometimes before you can see it.  So I lay and listened to the birds trying to identify the individuals and then to hear the orchestration of the whole.  How the songs and timing of the songs are adapted to intertwine with each other, so that none are lost, but fit into their place so that their song meant to express fear or happiness or sexual willingness or joy are not lost in the whole.  A specie's ability to survive is partially dependent on their ability to fit their voice into the whole.  If you sing at the wrong time and not heard, then you would fade out of existence in this system.  My newly awakened sense of hearing tingled as I understood a little better of this world I share here on Farmboy road.  I love the name of my road.  I love my little road, path like in its meandering to my house riddled with pot holes that can hide a mini cooper. I know that for sure because my neighbor has to deal with that each time she leaves the property.

The air rich with moisture and more of a summer like coolness then the spring crispness.  The songs and screeches and rapid tapping of of the birds hung in the thick moisture and slowed down the songs.  But each adapted to fit their song into the orchestration.  The sun above the clouds of humidity lighten the sky but does not show its face.  Bob shoves his face into mine tennis ball firmly in place already damp with his saliva.  Henry ignores me at the end of the bed, pretending a patience to my laziness as I pull the covers up closer to my face trying to put off getting up and starting my day.  It is 7:00 am.  I feel no guilt over not jumping up for the immediate desire of my children.  They are well fed, and this is a time of hugs and scratching and whispers of good morning.  They are as hungry for attention as for nutrition.  After all they have gone more then eight hours without Mother's constant attention.  They can not push themselves on me when I am at work, but when I am at home and sleeping, that is unforgivable.  I should be up, feeding, petting, loving, throwing the ball, clucking lovingly.  I should be holding someone or sitting next to another and stroking their fine soft coats.  So I rise and start my day.

And today I shall finish Thuggee's robe, and then go to the Opera House to paint the sets, and run errands, and maybe spend some time planting or weeding.  Maybe I shall clean a little in the house.  I know I will throw the ball a hundred times, but it will not be enough.  And tomorrow is Easter.  A special breakfast for everyone, then a peep hunt in the yard with the 2 boys.  A breakfast buffet at Lily/Jason/Owen's house.  Then on to Spamalot with Richard and Jessie.  

Then quick as a breath it will be Monday and our last rehearsal on the stage before the preview show on Thursday.  Friday night will be here before we are ready and it will be opening night.  And all the work and worries will be replaced with smiles and laughter and the show will go on.

But for this moment, with the doors flung open and the sewing machine calling my name, I will sew.  And enjoy the sensation of taking beautiful red cloth and with a whir of my Viking sewing machine I will have a robe for Thuggee.  Finished finally.  And he will wear it in the show and when he spins around the robe will float on the air and the swish of the sword and sounds of the feet on the little stage and the gasp of the audience will end with applause and laughter.  

A lovely day, filled with so much potential.  Quiet potential and sweet bird song.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Imaginary worlds

When you are working on a play, you can get so involved in the fake believe that it spreads out through your whole world.  Spending 6-12 weeks playing other people or directing other people in foreign places with accents and you can loose a little touch of reality.  Sort of like cancer.

Someone telling you you have cancer can definitely rock your reality and cause you to fly into another world, another reality, any place but where you are.

But being in plays is like good fantasy, where cancer, for most people is not really a good fantasy at all.  And so for the last year I have been living in all kinds of fantasy worlds.  But this is really not new for me.  I have always had a very vivid imagination and being a lover of stories, I have never had any problem when sitting quietly by myself, living in worlds of stories and fantasies.  I love to read, but not murder mysteries, and I am not that crazy about romance novels.  Those are both realities that often go beyond my comfort zone.  I love adventure novels, especially historical adventure stories.  Worlds that are not too evil or too overboard, but rather where good over comes evil and people pull together to make the world a better place and they accomplish this through amazing adventures.  I love the Princess Bride.  Both the book and the movie.  That is one of the very best adventure stories in that it has something for everyone: sword fights, giants, geniuses, beautiful princes and handsome pirates, bad guys and good guys, castles and wizards, oh yes, and rodents of unusual size.  It is one of the great fantasy adventure stories.

This morning my drift from reality started at 6:00 am when I got up, anxious to finish cleaning the house, make breakfast and bake brownie, take a shower and try to look my best, whatever that might be, all before 8:00 am.  Why?  Because I had a friend coming for breakfast this morning at 8.  He was passing through from Gulf Breeze to Sebring for meetings concerning his summer work as an aerial applicator.  OK, as someone who does not know how to fly either a fixed wing or helicopter, this just sounds like a wonderful fantasy to me.  You spend six months flying across the United States making pesticide applications, putting out fires, helping to rescue people, and air lifting Christmas trees off Mount St. Helene.  You work very hard and are away from home and family for half of the year, but then the other half of the year you can do whatever you fancy.  He is a very talented steel sculpture artist.  That is his fancy, and he makes beautiful fantasy with steel.  We met on the phone when he was getting his licenses across the country in all the states that he will need to fly.  I helped him with Florida's, and maybe a few others, I am not sure really how much I was involved in this.  He is the one taking the tests, filling out the forms, sending off the applications, each one different, each one asking for different things, each demanding money.  So that is how I met this person, whom I know many things about, he does not like kimchee, but he does like strong dark black coffee, but do not know the him.

Yesterday when I was talking to him as he was getting ready to head in this direction, he said, I may not be driving back home from the meetings, I might have to fly my helicopter out to Wyoming.  OK, doesn't that just sound so amazing, "Oh, I might have to fly my helicopter out to Wyoming"  Just a matter of fact statement.  Then he says, I have two bells for you that I have made plus a garden sculpture.  I love presents, as you all may know, and to have him stop for breakfast was a wonderful present for me.  To bring me bells and a sculpture for my garden additional presents.  Oh, be still my heart.    But wait, then he says the most fantastical and amazing thing anyone may ever have said to me before.  "Can I land a helicopter in your back yard?"  I mean come on.  Is that an amazing thing to say to someone?  I started to giggle.  I had never thought to ask the realtor when I bought this property if it was large enough to land a helicopter on.  So I immediately dubbed him my imaginary boyfriend.  

I don't care how juvenile that sounds, because I know many people who have imaginary relationships.  Some of them don't even have an idea that they are in an imaginary relationship.  I was in one with Larry.  I mean I imagined him to be one person and yet time and time again he showed me he was not that person, but I continued to hold my head in the sand thinking the best of him.  And that is OK too.  

Honestly, this person is better then the best imaginary boyfriend that I could ever, ever, and I mean ever imagine.  

At about quarter to 8, my phone rings.  I am convinced that he is not going to show up.  That he is just a figment of my imagination.  But no, he was giving me a courtesy call to let me know when he would be there.  That is one of my most favorite things in the whole world for people to do for me.  Call about 15 minutes before they get here so that I can be dressed and meet them when they drive up, versus scrambling to throw some clothes on.  I always want to do twice as much as it is possible, so that is why I tend to get caught with the proverbial pants down type of situation, because I am so busy doing way more then I need to.  I thought that was so sweet and considerate, and well, courteous of him.

So when he drove into the yard, I was sort of prepared.  I think I felt a little like the author of "Venus on the half-shell", no not Vonnegut, but the fantasy author who wrote Venus on the Half Shell, Kilgore Trout.  And in Breakfast of Champions,  one of Vonnegut's books, Kilgore comes face to face with Vonnegut in a Holiday Inn lounge.  It is a wonderful read.  And as I walked, okay I literally scampered out to meet this fantasy imaginary boyfriend I hoped that it would be more comfortable for both of us then it was with Mr. Trout and Mr. Vonnegut.

And it was.  This imaginary person, who was standing right in front of me is a friend I was just meeting.  A person I would like to get to know better.  A sweet and thoughtful person who gives more of his art away then he sells, and he looked real.  Felt real as I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him and said welcome.  He calls his gifts, random acts of kindness.  And that is such an understatement for the joy he brings to people with this beautiful art.  Both of the bells are extremely heavy, have glorious clear sweet tones and drift wood pieces at the end to catch the wind and cause the clapper to ring the bell. To sing out clear and sweet.  One of the bells has a cut out that sort of kind of in a fantasy world looks like a bird head, and it rings different tones depending on which side of the bell you strike.

And the garden sculpture.  I love it.  It is called "3 Squared"  and that name fits it perfectly because it is pieces of steel welded together to form open squares that are welded together and form 3 uprights of these open squares giving a feeling of strength and gentle movement all at the same time.  We put it in my garden next to the back deck.  I walk past this garden every time I come and go from the house.  And by this summer it will be surrounded by greenery and will standout hard and flowing amongst the softness of the plants.

The bells are heavy.  They are made from steel pipes or tanks.  They are rustic and glorious and he told me he would hang them for me when he came back through, whether by car heading home or by helicopter as he heads out west.  Hello, perfect imaginary boyfriend.  

And I know that I am not ready for a real relationship.  I am too self centered.  I know we are all self centered, but with the cancer and meds I don't seem to pick up or respond as considerately as I think I should.  I am a little slow at picking things up these days, and feel so very self centered.  Not a comfortable place for me.  And he came by for an hour.  And then he was headed away.  A new friend.  A friend baring presents.  A friend I would like to get to know.  

He told me a few stories of his life as a pilot.  About jumping into frozen water to try and save another pilot.  About almost freezing to death a second time when his back prop failed and he went down into the gulf 42 miles off shore and was in the water so long and suffered hypothermia.  He seems like a very kind man.  And since he does not live here, he is very much imaginary for me.  And yet we had one hour of time together, it was real, it was sweet and then he was gone, this Birdman of Gulfbreeze.  Pilot, artist, former marine, quiet sweet soul.  

Will we ever see each other again?  Will he land his helicopter in my back yard?  Will he simply fly out of my life after leaving such beautiful and wondrous gifts?  Will I think of his bright intelligent blue eyes every time one of the bells ring?  I only know the answer to that last one.  And yes, I will think of him, and the precious gift he has to not only take steel and make it into art, but then to gift that to people, some almost total strangers like myself, gifted with a random act of kindness.

I have met so many incredible people on this journey I am on.  And I have seen the very best and sweetest sides to friends I already held close to my heart.  Here once again was an act so lovely that I sit and weep a little as I think of the one hour this morning when a gentle spirit drove into my gate and then flew away.

And Stephanie asked me about the hay bales.  I tried to comment back, but I can no longer remember how to comment on my own blog.  If you buy hay bales that have not been treated with herbicides you can plant in them immediately and use them for as long as they hold up.  I think the two I planted will probably last at least a year, if not two.  You do not have to wait for them to season, and you do not have to wait a season to use them.  These were new hay bales.  But if you have the right kind of hay bale, I don't think it would make any difference how old they are.

Then Ms Moon helped me to get to Syd's blog where last week he had a list of behaviors of children of alcoholics.  Neither of my parents were alcoholics.  My father has never drank, my mother was a very light social drinker, but I fit all but one of the behaviors listed.  I have no idea why.  But it was almost like Syd was sitting across from my place watching me night and day with binoculars and making a list of my behaviors.  I know that it is not true.  And Ms Moon also fits very well into the list.  Her Daddy was an alcoholic, but I am not sure what is my excuse.

Finally Kathleen Scott asked me to post pictures of the baby chicks.  I have not taken pictures of them as of yet.  I have a beautiful camera.  Actually the same one that Mr. Moon bought that Ms Moon takes all the gorgeous pictures on her blog.  But I just don't seem to take many pictures these days.  I am not sure why.  Is it because my perception of reality has changed so much in the last year?  I know when I look at myself in the mirror I still see an alien where I used to be.  And I admit to being a ludite and consider myself pushing it just to post on this blog.  I am quite adept at using the programs at work, and can find my way around a computer adequately.  Computers will never be my best friend, but they are a very useful tool.  So I will have to learn how to insert photos.

And there, my first picture uploaded on to my blog.  Blue Belle is the one standing in the back, right next to the red bunny house door.  I have to say that she has not acted insane in anyway since I told the world about her bizzarre behavior.  Now if I could simply wish all the roosters into hens by telling everyone about them, that would be real magic.

I have not named all the chickens because I am not sure who is a rooster or a hen.  But in this picture, Blue Belle is standing with her backside to us.  it is not a great picture, color wise because she has a lot more blue in her then shows.  The two white ones in the back of the picture are Gardenia and Lily.  The little head just stepping into the picture is Rose, the two in the front are not named yet, based on their behavior and the one in the back behind Belle is Pansy, and you can barely see Camelia, a barred rock and then the butt in between Camelia and Rose is Iris, another Blue Andalusian like Belle.

So, thank you Kathleen for pushing me to try and put in some pictures.  It was actually so easy.  I feel a little foolish.

So here is a picture of 3 Squared:

And here are the 2 bells:

You can see the bird head on the bottom of this second bell.

And so now back to finish Thugee's robe.  It is not that long of a job, I just keep getting interrupted with other things and so have not got it finished.  But it will be done before rehearsal on Monday.  

And I feel a little melachonly, maybe how Kilgore Trout felt after meeting his creator.  In my case, just an imaginary person who has been a voice on the phone up until 8 am this morning.  And now he is an email, or maybe a call, and maybe another visit when I can find out more about the him, and he can find out more about the me, instead of just things about each other.  A friendship, not unlike pen pals of old.  But this imaginary friend came baring gifts, and put a smile on my face and then a tear to my heart as he flew away.  But wouldn't it be the best fantasy ever, if he dropped out of the sky in a flying machine right into my back yard?  It could happen.  And that is what is the most amazing thing about this kind and unknown stranger, anything could happen.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Plant sales and a glorious Saturday

Friday I was supposed to have lunch with Carolyn and have my 2 hay bales for my veggie gardens delivered.  But I ran late from work and Carolyn rescheduled and fortunately the hay bale guy was running late.  I got some things done in the yard and then I came in and sat down.  Carolyn had asked me if I wanted to go up to Southern Music Rising, the music festival this weekend in Monticello.  I said, thanks, but that I was looking forward to a quiet evening at home with the boys (Harry and Bob, my labs).  I had had a couple of days of stomach issues, so going out, didn't seem like the best idea.

Then Ms Moon called.

Do you want to drive into town and hear Lis and Lon at the Mockingbird Cafe and have dinner?  Mr. Moon is out of town, and Ms Moon has decided to put on a bra and makeup and head into town.  Well, then I need to put on my big girl panties and get up and force myself to put on a bra, dress up, put on make up, get in the toy, put the top down and drive with on of my dearest most beloveds to have a wonderful dinner, see friends, listen to beautiful music.  

I said, "Yes"

And I did, I picked up Ms Moon and we drove west to the big city as the evening was starting to settle around us.  It was a lovely evening to be out for a drive with the top down.  Lis and Lon had set up a table for us right in front of the stage.  We chose the bar.  Mary's beautiful daughter May is the Manager at the Mockingbird.  May is one of those special people, she is beautiful, has a glorious smile, the sweetest laugh and is one of the funniest, wittiest people with a wicked talent for writing and dancing.  May ran back and forth between the restaurant portion and us.  Then Mean Aunt Jessie came in and sat with us.  Another beautiful, sweet, kind, smart, lovely, intelligent child of the Moon's.  

Mary and I ordered dinner.  The same thing we always order, a house salad and the Mediterranean appetizer.  I picked at my salad.  My stomach, said, "no thank you"  Then my appetizer came, and my stomach said, "don't even think about it."  So I had it all boxed up to go.  We got to get hugs from Lis and Lon and both girls, and Mary knew most everyone there and hugs all around.  The music encompassed us and swirled around our hearts, Ms Moon had a moment or two of tears through smiles, especially as old acquaintances danced with their precious new grandson.  It was a lovely evening, friends, music, good food, in to go boxes, stars above our head, Ms Moon, bras and big girl panties.  We may be on the other side of young, and as Ms Sioux says, we may be past our skinny, but we can still go into town and have fun.  Oh yes we can.  

And during one of their breaks I got to get one of Lon's perfect hugs.  Mary said it will add 3 years to your life just hugging Lon.  That would double my life expectancy, so I went for it.  And those few seconds felt like he surely could add 3 more years of sweet precious life.  So Saturday morning I go for another hug, and said to him.  This is great, now you have tripled my life expectancy.  I am thinking that maybe Dr. M needs to meet Lon.  They both work magic.

So when I left Friday evening we had all agreed, Lis, Ms Moon and Jessie to meet at the Goodwood Garden plant sale the next morning.  I would pick up Ms Moon and Lis at 8, Jessie would meet us before her shift at the hospital.  I got up Saturday eager to go.  The sky was gray and misting.  I adjusted my wardrobe to stand in the rain and to pick up pots of plants that were wet and muddy.  I opened the back door to get the dog's food and at that moment the heavens let loose and in that single moment, of rain and the door opening I was soaked from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  Sometimes you are there when everything comes together.  Sometimes that is not what you expected.

The hard rain only lasted for a few seconds, and I was ready to go again and heading to the door, dry and hopefully prepared for the challenges of the day when the phone rang.  It was Ms Moon, Lis had not been able to sleep and was not going to be able to go.  Ms Moon was torn.  Plant sale or Lis.  Of course there was nothing to really be torn about.  She was just being a good friend.  I told her it was just a plant sale.  She does not get to spend that much time with Lis.  Of course she would stay and visit.  There will be another plant sale next month at McClay, and of course, next year at Goodwood.  And honestly, neither of us need any more plants.  

So I jumped in the Malibu and took off.  I got to Goodwood at 8:30, right on schedule.  But there was only one car in the parking lot.  Hmmmm, something was not right.  I walked up to the gate.  OK, the volunteers were there, the 4hers were there, but where were all the gardeners?  The weather was nasty, but not as bad as it had been a couple of years ago.  As I walked to the gate, there stood Jessie in her gray hoodie and pants.  I yelled, "There is that gorgeous woman."  And a face that was only slightly familiar, not the face I expected looked at me.  She did have sort of a Jessie kind of look about her, but this was definitely not Jess.  I apologized, embarrassed, and the 2 of us stood there.  Finally the bugs got to be too much for her, she was not dressed properly, and she ran away.  Shortly a guy walked up and took her place.  He introduced himself as the woman's boy friend and we struck up a conversation.  It was amazing how much the 3 of us actually had in common, from THE University of Florida to Pine Island and gardening and where we live now, and jobs we have had.  The woman was not a gardener.  But the man was and we happily yammered on and on about plant sales and gardening.  At 5 minutes until the gate opened I felt my heart rate increase and my pulse start to pound.  Much like the vegetarian hunters during caveman time finding a particularly thick and hearty root or a rich harvest of berries.  My new friends went over their plan of attack using the maps of the sale provided by the 4H kids.  She was confused by all the strategy.  Why not just walk through and see what is there?  He calmly pointed to the 50 people now waiting and we all looked at the parking lot as it filled up with more and more cars pulling in with lots of other people who would also be in that same small space, vying for the same wagons and pots of green treasures, with little colored sticks denoting the cost.  

The gate opened and we all politely pushed forward, through the gate, wagons to the right, a few roses along the fence, the main sale to the left.  I grabbed the closest wagon to the pink rose I wanted and then shot through the crowd heading straight for the shade table to see if they had any begonias this year.  Nothing new or exciting, so then around the back way up to the herbs, then the butterfly plants around to the vines, sun loving plants, and then the big plants.  I filled my wagon, even though I really didn't need anymore plants.  HA!  I say, HA HA!  You can never have too many plants.  20 minutes later I was paying for my booty and heading to the car.  I handed my wagon over to a lovely young woman with a daughter about 4 in the cutest garden dress of flowers and bugs and big yellow suns.  It had misted to rain a couple of times as I waited.  I had actually waited longer then I had been at the sale.  I love the plants, but when the people start pouring in, I start running out.  

Next to Lowe's.  There I was able to get plastic chicken "wire" for the coop for the babies and some zip ties to attach the new fencing to the existing coop. Back in the car and on to the Orchid show.  There were no signs anywhere that would tell you that there was a show of any kind.  But Bob had seen them setting up the show.  I was the only one there not showing or selling orchids. It was like walking around in a wonderland of jewels and pastels of magic.  I picked up my new treasures and scurried to Ms Moon's house to drop off presents.

Then on to Monticello Milling for animal feed and hay for the chicken coop.  I quick walk through the crowds of musicians and fans to the Rosemary Tree, a gift shop, high end deli for their grand opening.  

Finally I was heading back home.  The Malibu filled to overflowing with plants, hay, animal feed and hardware.  I drove past the Winn Dixie Plaza.  Maybe it is called Jefferson something.  I am not actually sure what the actual name of the plaza is, although I think there is a sign that tells you.  I just say I am going to the Winn Dixie.  And yes, we have 2 new shops in downtown and the owners of the "something or other" Plaza are spiffing it up nicely.  They have painted each store front with a different color to give the impression of a group of stores instead of a strip mall.  It looks quite nice.  Monticello is putting on it spring finery this year.

Back home I cleaned the chicken coop, set up the hay bales and planted the veggies in them.  Eggplants, peppers and cukes.  I am thinking of planting tomatoes and strawberries in a raised planter next to the hay bale garden.  Next I finished emptying the car, cleaned out the chicken coop, called my Father, weeded, worked on my sprinkler system in the back yard, planted a few more plants, cleaned a little here, worked on another spot in the yard, and then tackled the babies chicken coop.  I attached the new plastic chicken wire to the existing metal wire to make sure that the babies could not stick their heads in the metal wire and get it stuck, and to contain them in part of the coop.  I got their food and water set up, I got fresh new hay in the laying boxes as well as on the floor of the coop.  I filled the bunny house with hay in case some of the little ones want to sleep in there.  Set up a light to keep them warm at night and then planned the big move.  I got a cat carrier and slipped into the bathroom.  It was not as easy as I had hoped to gently stuff 17 baby chickens into the cat carrier.  There was plenty of room for the short trip and time they would be in it.  But getting them into it was harder then I had hoped.  I finally got everyone in and walked out to their new home.  I sat down in the hay next to the carrier and opened the door.  Nothing.  I waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, not even a head peaked out.  So I started reaching in and picking them up one by one and putting them in the hay next to me.  I got them all out and as curious as they always are, this was new and big and pretty scary.  It took quite a while, but they finally adjusted and started scratching in the dirt.  Their first time ever on dirt.  They pulled at the hay straws, they pecked at things on the ground.  They squabbled and chirped and scratched and acted like baby chickens.  Then the soon to be roosters starting jumping and challenging each other.  There must be at least 5 of them.  Maybe more.  Maybe a lot more.  Even the 2 smallest, Rose and Dewdrop started standing up to the much bigger chickens.  I stroked those that came close and snuggled up to me.  I admonished the fighters with chirps of my own.  I watched in amazement as one of the two blue chickens, possibly blue Andalusians, opened to her true nature.  She is insane.  I named her Blue Belle and I call her Belle.  She will almost be acting like a normal chicken and the others will start to calm down around her, and then all of a sudden she is up jumping around, flipping and doing all kinds of gymnastics in the most insane matter.  Oh great, at least 5 roosters and one insane chicken among 17.  Not the best odds, but such is life.  We will see what happens.  It will be a few months yet before I am sure who is a rooster and take the ones I can't keep back to the breeder.  I might have dozed a little while I was in there because all of a sudden it was 6 o'clock and I was supposed to be at the Opera House to meet Mary and hear Lis and Lon's concert.  I managed to get up and into the house, but I made the mistake of sitting down in my chair.  I called Mary.  I told her I was sitting down.  She knew I was not getting up for the rest of the night.  And I didn't until almost 11 o'clock last night.  I think the TV was on.  I had so many things to do, but I just sat. I was tired, worn out.  It had been a very good day, but I had done a lot for a normal person I guess, let alone someone with cancer.  I know that at sometime I spoke to my friend with lung cancer, I will call him P and his wife J.  I love those two.  They are such a great team.  People who have probably faced adversity in the past and stayed together, and are now facing this terrible disease together.  I still have never gotten mad about my own cancer.  It is a gift.  But it does me mad as hell that P has cancer.  I hate this disease.  It has affected so many wonderful people.  And yet for me, it has been nothing but a learning experience, a blessing, a gift.  And P so far is doing great.  GREAT!!!!  He had his second treatment this week, and no sickness at all.   He is not tired yet and all in all is feeling pretty good and proud of himself, as he should be.

I did finally get up, take a shower and go to bed.  Tired and exhausted from a day lived well.  A day filled with beauty and friends, flowers and sunshine, even a shower here and there, a day filled with possibilities.  And I managed to accomplish many of those possibilities.  My hay bale garden looks just fine.  The baby chickens made it through their first night in their new home safe and sound.  I fell asleep with Harry sleeping on my legs, Bob Curled up with his head next to mine on my pillow.  Henry and Luna fast asleep in their private spots at the foot of the bed and Stella pressed closely up against the back of my knees.  

And today, I have fed my children, fed myself.  I have made a pair of earrings I needed for the show, worked a bit on Thugee's robe, which I need to finish tonight.  I have checked on the babies a couple of times, and did some laundry.  now to finish this and head to the Opera House for rehearsal.  it is another glorious day.  Sunshine, crystal clear skies that are blue all the way to forever.  The Martin's, my bluebirds sit on their porches looking out at this world of ours and my plants reach and stretch towards that endless sunshine, quenched from the short but sweet showers of yesterday.  

And as I have said so many times, life is is is a gift to be taken and opened and lived fully and deeply.  I have another busy week this coming week with blood work on Monday, lunch with Carolyn on Tuesday then rehearsal that night.   Wednesday Andy is bringing my bell and a garden sculpture on his way to Sebring.  Thursday will be more rehearsals and then another weekend.  This one filled with Easter and chocolate and peeps and Spamalot with Jessie and Rich.  And of course there will be work.  A feeling of accomplishment.  A feeling of normalcy as I get up and do the same routine I have done for over 25 years.  
Life is good.
life is wonderful
life is full and rich and happy and normal and odd and glorious.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

A Social Week

This week has been way more social then I am used to.  Yesterday I had lunch with my dearest friend Geeta.  We were supposed to go to Lake Ella for a picnic, but when we went to head to the lake from her office my new Toy would not start.  It did not make a noise, light a light, do anything.  Dead, rest in peace.  Did I panic?  Did I get upset?  Of course.  No, actually Geeta started to get worried for me, but I honestly, unbelievably stayed totally calm.  I picked up my cell phone and called Mr. Moon, the Car Guy.  I told him what had happened, he said no worries he would be right over.  And sure enough within 20 minutes he was staring down at my battery hooking a portable battery charger to it.  

And not only did he get my car started, but he called the Interstate battery people told them I was on my way, and what battery I was going to need.  I drove up in front of the store and I had hardly stopped when a guy comes out, tests the battery, tells me what is wrong with mine and in the same movement he pulled out the old batter and placed the new one in.  I paid the bill, very reasonable price because Mr. Moon called them first, and off I drove.

I went to Costco and picked up cherry tomatoes for Owen.  That boy eats so well.  His mama and daddy, not to mention his grandparents have taught him well.  Then I picked up large steaks for M/M Moon to say thank you to Mr. Moon for coming to my rescue.  I slipped into the house and left my treats.  Owen and Mary were taking a nap when I slipped in and out.

I came home and looked at all the things I needed to do.  Then I sat down and just gave out.  I did get to bed early and when I woke up this morning I felt a little less tired.  

I worked  a short day today, but a day of accomplishments.  Funny how when time is short that is sometimes when you get the most work done.  After lunch I drove over to pick up my dear friend Rich for lunch.  We haven't spent nearly enough time together lately, and I do love him dearly.  He is one of the funniest, cutest, most adorable and intelligent people I know.  And I always have a wonderful time with him.  Today was no different.   Then we drove over to pick up his car.  It was lovely getting to talk and laugh with him.  He is such a great guy.

After dropping him off to pick up his car I was on the west side of town, but there was a Home Depot so I could get the posts I needed for this weekend to make the coop in the coop for the chickens.  Then a quick trip past Joann's to pick up felt that Ms Denise needs for one of the costumes.  Then home to rest before rehearsal tonight.

Tomorrow I have a lunch engagement with my friend Carolyn.  This is more eating out then I ever do.  Shoot, I don't eat out this much when I am on the road.  But I just haven't spent much time with these dear friends so it was wonderful.

Saturday morning is the annual heirloom plant sale at Goodwood Museum .  I love this sale each year.  The weather is supposed to be rainy.  So what!  One year Mary and I went in the pouring rain, each of us with colds.  The rain had not reached our homes yet, so we did not realize how bad the rain was when we left.  We had no rain gear, but I did have a couple of umbrellas stuck in the back of the closet.  So we stood in line in the pouring rain waiting for the gate to open at 9 along with the other insane gardeners.  We sloshed in as the gate opened a sea of brightly colored umbrellas and you could see all the umbrellas lean forward in unison as each gardener reached down to claim their first prize.  Then about a minute later you saw all the umbrellas slam shut and get shoved under one of the tables so that we could use both hands to pick up plants.  It was like a MGM Musical the timing was so perfect.  No one complained about the rain.  Everyone just busily followed their plan of attack moving from one grouping of plants to the next, shade, sun, partial shade, herbaceous, perennial, vines, ground covers and so on.  You must have a plan before attending one these sales.  And actually here in Tallahassee they are so polite at their plant sales.  In Ft. Myers for the annual hibiscus sale you had old ladies bossing their poor husbands around as the men stood in the heat of the Ft. Myers sun, with no hats, waiting for the door to open to rush past all the exhibits and straight to the sales.  There was always at least one husband who succumbed to the heat and went down.  He would gently be passed to the back of the crowd.  No one, not even his wife moved from their well elbowed in spot.  The hibiscus society had learned early on to always have an ambulance there and they would take the poor suffering dear and hold him there while his wife shot through the door grumbling the whole time about him abandoning her.  Then everyone would start shoving and grabbing as many pots of any plant they could get their hands on.  And the fun would begin.  "I have a Miss Lily I will trade for one of your Key Wests", "I will take that Fancy Pink for one of my Lady Sunshines

I went to a plant sale at Marie Selby Gardens in Sarasota (there plant sale is in May each year) many years ago where a little tiny old man, I swear he was 137 years old, knocked me down with his wheel barrow, ran over me with the wheel barrow and then yelled at me for being in his way.  I have been to other plant sales where I saw people fist fighting over a particular plant.  Ah, the good old days.  I love the Goodwood Plant Nursery, but it is calm and quiet and polite.  The plants get my heart pumping so I guess that makes up for the lack of drama and action.

I have to get with Richard/Colleen this weekend to get the Memorial Service planned.  I need to get Thuggee's robe finished, and Paulette's earrings.  Breathe, you can do all of this, and have your 2 garden bales of hay delivered tomorrow.  I am going to try growing tomatoes or eggplants or peppers in hay bales, but you have to buy the right kind of hay bale.  Something that was not treated with an herbicide or growth hormone.  

So today was a stomach problem again.  After all I have had what seems like almost a week with no stomach problems, so I fee very fortunate.  My appetite is definitely different these days, sometimes I am starving and after a few bites, I don't want anymore.  Mostly I am just not interested in food.  I am forcing myself to eat though, I don't want Dr. M getting on me about my weight.  I feel strong, happy, capable.  Life is good.  The weather has been glorious.  And a plant sale on Saturday!  Who-hah, life is good.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Baby geese

Friday my friend Bob came and got me.  He said, "follow me, I want to show you something."  So I scampered off behind him to the hall in front of the Bureau of pesticides.  There on the landing were 2 adult geese and in between them were 2 little balls of yellow and gray fluff and 6 of the biggest feet you have ever seen.  They were adorable, and the parents stood as still and quiet as ice staring at us, guards protecting the most precious special gift.

And it was a good day at work.  Came home I was so tired.  I sat down and tried to write a post for this blog, but my brain just wasn't functioning.  I did manage to get everything at the store before heading home.  But once home I sat down.  I did finally get up and start baking the cake.  I got one tier baked and half of the other before just giving up and going to bed. 

Saturday morning I woke up and headed to the kitchen.  I got the rest of the cake baked and got the ganache made and whipped, decorated the cake, made the tepenade, baked a small loaf of French bread to go with it and then made the olives with the herbs and olive oil.  OK, all set for the wedding.  I got dressed, packed the car and got ready to go.  I grabbed a couple of dog cookies and went to the pasture to lock Harry and Bob in there with their cookies.  Harry was ready and willing, just give him the cookie!  But no Bob anywhere to be seen.  I hunted and called for 30 minutes.  Time clicking away that I should have been at Casa Luna helping to get things ready for the wedding.  I was so exhausted, but that did not matter.  I was ready to give up on Bob and I put my purse in the car so that I could move quicker looking for him when something caught the corner of my eye.  And there was Bob, asleep in the back seat of the Toy.  I have no idea how or when he got in, but there he was.  Relief.  I got him put into the pasture, gave him his cookie and now I had to drive like I had a wedding cake in a box in the trunk.  And I did.  I now it made everyone nervous coming up behind me on the interstate, but I don't care.  The wedding cake made it to the wedding just fine.

And the wedding was wonderful!!!!  A perfectly glorious day, friends and beloved ones gathered together, lots of wonderful food and drink and conversation and love filled the air and floated around like the humidity and bugs encompassing us.  And everything was perfect, absolutely and totally perfect!  The ceremony was a little after 2 and yet at 8:00 pm most of us were still sitting there talking and laughing.  I came home.  I was so tired.  Have I said that already?  I was so tired I couldn't sleep.  

So I thought, no problem I will sleep in tomorrow, it is Sunday, a lovely day to sleep in.  It is supposed to be the day of rest.  I woke up before 7 and did my best to simply stay in the bed until almost 8.   I did a few of the tasks I needed around the house.  But not nearly enough.  I did manage to make a broccoli quiche and a chocolate torte out of the rest of chocolate cake I didn't use in the wedding cake.  I went to Garden Circle and had a lovely time.  We had a guest speaker from McClay Gardens talk about propagation.  I always enjoy spending time with the ladies from the Garden Club.

On my way home I thought about stopping to see how rehearsal was going, but thought better of it, and instead went home to rest.  I got home and wanted to lay down and sleep, but I just couldn't sleep and I couldn't think clear enough to post a blog, so I just sat here.  It was a glorious day and I did get to do a little of this and that outside.  But again, I was so tired I could not fall asleep.

Yesterday I went to work.  By 1:00 when I leave I was exhausted and starving.  So I picked up some Chinese to go.  I got home around 2:30 and ate my lunch and at 4:00pm I woke up still sitting in my chair, chopsticks still in my hand, my plate still sitting on my lap.  It did look extremely "clean".  I have no idea if I finished eating the food or if Bob and Harry cleaned my plate.  I was full, so I guess it didn't really matter.  I might have been getting ready to take an empty plate to the kitchen, I don't remember, so that is what I did and then I headed on to bed to take a little nap.  I thought I would lay down for an hour or so and then get up to wash Harry.  At 10:00pm I got up and turned on the alarm to wake up this morning and went right back to sleep.

I woke up this morning still feeling tired, but not quite so bad.  I worked a few extra hours trying to help get caught up on work.  This is the time of year that all the aerial applicators head north and west out to make their living, and they are all in a panic trying to be the first to get their licenses together and get out there.  It is a crazy time of year for us because of their craziness.

Then on my way home I was listening to the pledge drive on WUSF and who should I hear?  But Liz Sparks.  Liz is Mary's Liz from the west, versus her Lis from the east.  She was leading the pledge drive.  So I emailed in my pledge, in honor of Liz, and because I love NPR.

So now here I am here, finally posting, not much to say.  The chicken babies continue to get big. They eat and eat and eat, and just keep transforming form peeps to chickens.  Some are already looking like roosters, others are obviously hens, and some just have not shown themselves yet.