Huh
Yesterday I spent an hour or so raking up old leaves from the fall. My plan, since I'm not in great shape at the moment, was to do a little yardwork each day so I don't overdo it and wind up with the killer backache I got when I had the brilliant idea of picking up a rake while on the worst day of my period when I'd already strained my back sleeping oddly and leaning over the sink to wash a ton of dishes. Needless to say, my back hurt like a bitch for two days afterward.
It's weird...last night I kept getting flashes of things growing and overlapping and very few of the plants in my head were anything I saw growing either in my yard or the mini-forest in my neighbor's yard (they have a plot of land twice mine, and the back third is all trees and bushes and is pretty much a teeny tiny patch of unmonitored wilderness.). A mere hour of just raking and already my mind has lost it.
So today, merrily mad, I put on some gardening gloves, picked up the rake to get the last few remaining patches of leaves and dropped branches, and decided I'd go a little further by yanking a few of the bigger weeds from the flowerbeds...and then realized I needed the hoe and/or the hedgeclippers to get those suckers....and then figured while I was out there with the hedgeclippers, I'd trim off the dead flowers on the hydrangea per Sandra's recommendations...and then after a half hour of snipping away the dead branches and flowers, I figured the neighboring azalea could use some love...and then I went to check the rose bushes....and then I yanked up some old, dried flower stems....and then I decided the small patch of garden in our front lawn needed to have all the old stems and such yanked away....
Two hours later, my back's not doing too badly, but my arms are going to feel it tomorrow. Actually, they feel it now, but I imagine holding up heavy hedgeclippers at shoulder-height for that long means all those muscles are going to be bitching tomorrow.
Therefore, I think the plants were hypnotizing me last night. "Come groooooom us, come make us preeeeeetty, come help us groooooow....." I've never believed that plants were any different than animals, though I admit I'm not used to being manipulated by a bunch of green things.
Of course, this rather pushes my schedule for the day way out of whack, but my iced tea is distracting me from the disappointment of not being able to keep up with my schedule for even a day. Bah. And I'd planned so deviously into the wee hours last night too...
A thought occurred to me last night as I was eating dinner with my brother...
I mostly have female friends. Actually, for the majority of my life I've only had female friends. But, as Sandra pointed out during her visit, most of my female friends don't generally have female friends, and get along with males better.
So now I'm wondering if I should consider myself a dude with tits.
It doesn't help that my brother regularly points out that I have more balls than he does. Oi.
Of course, you show me the tiniest bug/creepy crawly and I'll scream and dance in a fashion that one of my very feminine pagan mentors called "the most awesome girly thing ever." (I had gotten some weird crushed plant residue on my jeans. She joked, though I in my cluelessness did not know at the time, that it was a squished slug. Cue screaming and dancing and flailing hands.)
It's weird...last night I kept getting flashes of things growing and overlapping and very few of the plants in my head were anything I saw growing either in my yard or the mini-forest in my neighbor's yard (they have a plot of land twice mine, and the back third is all trees and bushes and is pretty much a teeny tiny patch of unmonitored wilderness.). A mere hour of just raking and already my mind has lost it.
So today, merrily mad, I put on some gardening gloves, picked up the rake to get the last few remaining patches of leaves and dropped branches, and decided I'd go a little further by yanking a few of the bigger weeds from the flowerbeds...and then realized I needed the hoe and/or the hedgeclippers to get those suckers....and then figured while I was out there with the hedgeclippers, I'd trim off the dead flowers on the hydrangea per Sandra's recommendations...and then after a half hour of snipping away the dead branches and flowers, I figured the neighboring azalea could use some love...and then I went to check the rose bushes....and then I yanked up some old, dried flower stems....and then I decided the small patch of garden in our front lawn needed to have all the old stems and such yanked away....
Two hours later, my back's not doing too badly, but my arms are going to feel it tomorrow. Actually, they feel it now, but I imagine holding up heavy hedgeclippers at shoulder-height for that long means all those muscles are going to be bitching tomorrow.
Therefore, I think the plants were hypnotizing me last night. "Come groooooom us, come make us preeeeeetty, come help us groooooow....." I've never believed that plants were any different than animals, though I admit I'm not used to being manipulated by a bunch of green things.
Of course, this rather pushes my schedule for the day way out of whack, but my iced tea is distracting me from the disappointment of not being able to keep up with my schedule for even a day. Bah. And I'd planned so deviously into the wee hours last night too...
A thought occurred to me last night as I was eating dinner with my brother...
I mostly have female friends. Actually, for the majority of my life I've only had female friends. But, as Sandra pointed out during her visit, most of my female friends don't generally have female friends, and get along with males better.
So now I'm wondering if I should consider myself a dude with tits.
It doesn't help that my brother regularly points out that I have more balls than he does. Oi.
Of course, you show me the tiniest bug/creepy crawly and I'll scream and dance in a fashion that one of my very feminine pagan mentors called "the most awesome girly thing ever." (I had gotten some weird crushed plant residue on my jeans. She joked, though I in my cluelessness did not know at the time, that it was a squished slug. Cue screaming and dancing and flailing hands.)