Bits and bobs
Well, the landscapers showed up with a bobcat on Tuesday, and tore most of my back yard out. They brought a bunch of new soil in on Wednesday, and started working to shape it, but then it rained. And rained. And on Friday it thundered and poured buckets, so it's all a sloppy horrible mess with huge puddles and mud like I've never seen. So much for at least planting a bit of the garden on the weekend. It will be days before it's dry enough for them to start working on it again. Which means that Every. Single. Time. the dog needs to pee, I have to take her for a walk. She loves this. Me...not so much. Plus, I'm not really good at staring at huge messes that I can't do anything about. Which may explain why I gave the chandelier it's bi-annual cleaning today - at least that's a job I could finish.
I spent last Monday in the ER with my Mom again, with her wonky heart. That's three times in two weeks. This is not good.
Two days ago, I dreamed that the fish I tried to buy for a backyard pond died before we could even get them out of the store. So instead I bought six New Zealand gerbils (which looked like guinea pigs, only half the size), and my son and I carried them across a desert to get home. I had to cup one of them in the bottom of my shirt the whole way, because only two would fit in the box they gave me. I'm not even going to try to interpret this dream.
My ex-husband told the kids last week that he's getting married in August. He went all the way to Trinidad to meet her family a while ago - and only introduced her to his own kids, who live in the same city, yesterday, exactly a week after telling them he's marrying her. He's such a boob. And yet I do wish him well, when I'm not making catty comments about it to my friends, and hope he will be happy.
I miss my daughter already, and she's not even leaving for three months. But the weeks race by, and though we spend a lot of time together, we're both very aware of how fleeting this time will be. We hug a lot these days.
I spent last Monday in the ER with my Mom again, with her wonky heart. That's three times in two weeks. This is not good.
Two days ago, I dreamed that the fish I tried to buy for a backyard pond died before we could even get them out of the store. So instead I bought six New Zealand gerbils (which looked like guinea pigs, only half the size), and my son and I carried them across a desert to get home. I had to cup one of them in the bottom of my shirt the whole way, because only two would fit in the box they gave me. I'm not even going to try to interpret this dream.
My ex-husband told the kids last week that he's getting married in August. He went all the way to Trinidad to meet her family a while ago - and only introduced her to his own kids, who live in the same city, yesterday, exactly a week after telling them he's marrying her. He's such a boob. And yet I do wish him well, when I'm not making catty comments about it to my friends, and hope he will be happy.
I miss my daughter already, and she's not even leaving for three months. But the weeks race by, and though we spend a lot of time together, we're both very aware of how fleeting this time will be. We hug a lot these days.