May 2011
I love spring. I do. I like the new growth, the unpredictable weather, the smell of lilacs, and those other flowering trees. I love to walk around the yard to see what plants are coming back from their hibernation through the winter. I love to plant things and then confirm they don't hate me and didn't uproot and stalk away (I had a cucumber plant do that once...stupid cucumber). I enjoy cleaning up my pond, envisioning the pond in a mid-summer splendor of foliage and flower, and my daily confirmation that I still haven't killed any of the new fish. Spring simply feels good.
It's raining now, which means I don't have to water the garden. Thank you God. I have sprouts, as I mentioned on facebook, from my plantings and they need the water. I have an inadequate garden hose which Stu ate portions of recently, so I'm not even sure I can water the garden right now. I know I can't hook it to a nozzle at all...stupid dog.
Speaking of "dammit Stu" (his new name), my mother and I tackled the beast and set about trying to brush him last night. It was like wrestling with a slicked pig...a slicked, furry, 62 lb pig. I was able to get enough fur to equal a new small dog, but he needs more brushing. So now, I will attempt to brush him for a small portion of time every evening, on account of Stu really needs it and I'm slightly convinced I have an allergy to him.
My pond is glorious. I moved things around and planted new items and Dammit Stu's lead has been shortened so the pond (and Stu) may actually survive this year. I bought 12 new feeder gold fish (Dammit Stu ate the heater over the winter and the pond had frozen solid before I realized this, thus killing my surviving fish from my summer masacre, Agent Cooper and the Giant (frogs)...I really didn't like removing their little bodies from my pond of death) over the weekend and all of them still live. A new record for me. They dart about, 11 clearly visible because they are such a brilliant shade of orange and sometimes orange and white, and the 12th stealthy little bugger blends in with the dark overall coloring...I don't know where he is (I would assume planning his take-over of the human overlord (Mommy) and her furry hound-beast(Dammit Stu)). I have herbs to one corner of the pond, grasses at one end, a bleeding heart on the side, and hostas on opposing shores. I'm all wiggly with anticipation of the full bloom.
This year, I planted my heartier edibles in buckets and placed them in front of where I park my car. More light there. I'm going to test the theory that my garden plot isn't to blame, but the trees around it are, for the sickly preformance of tomatoes and peppers and other veggies the past two years. I check on those plants every day too. I'm thinking I might be a bit OCD.
Wedding plans are still in motion. I have re-addressed the "name" issue. I have a two fold problem with changing my name. First - I'm 36. I have had the same name my entire life and I really don't WANT to change it at all. Second - it's an antiquated formatlity that has a basis in old school property practices which I cannot perpetuate. I don't belong to my future husband. I am agreeing to live the rest of my life with him as a devoted partner; we are to share our life journey and experience the joys and horrors of becoming a family together as co-owners of our actions. I am not dependant on his name for a place in this world, and in fact changing mine leaves me with a feeling of despondency and loss; which should not be the case in marriage. He's not happy with this. I feel bad for causing him unhappiness. Sigh.
T8 has started asking about having sleep-overs at our house. **grumble** My house is small and already filled to the brim with critters, both human and not, and adding to that makes me a little insane. I have agreed that when the weather is right, he can have a sleep-over in the tent...out of doors...in the backyard; maybe. Good thing it's raining.
It's raining now, which means I don't have to water the garden. Thank you God. I have sprouts, as I mentioned on facebook, from my plantings and they need the water. I have an inadequate garden hose which Stu ate portions of recently, so I'm not even sure I can water the garden right now. I know I can't hook it to a nozzle at all...stupid dog.
Speaking of "dammit Stu" (his new name), my mother and I tackled the beast and set about trying to brush him last night. It was like wrestling with a slicked pig...a slicked, furry, 62 lb pig. I was able to get enough fur to equal a new small dog, but he needs more brushing. So now, I will attempt to brush him for a small portion of time every evening, on account of Stu really needs it and I'm slightly convinced I have an allergy to him.
My pond is glorious. I moved things around and planted new items and Dammit Stu's lead has been shortened so the pond (and Stu) may actually survive this year. I bought 12 new feeder gold fish (Dammit Stu ate the heater over the winter and the pond had frozen solid before I realized this, thus killing my surviving fish from my summer masacre, Agent Cooper and the Giant (frogs)...I really didn't like removing their little bodies from my pond of death) over the weekend and all of them still live. A new record for me. They dart about, 11 clearly visible because they are such a brilliant shade of orange and sometimes orange and white, and the 12th stealthy little bugger blends in with the dark overall coloring...I don't know where he is (I would assume planning his take-over of the human overlord (Mommy) and her furry hound-beast(Dammit Stu)). I have herbs to one corner of the pond, grasses at one end, a bleeding heart on the side, and hostas on opposing shores. I'm all wiggly with anticipation of the full bloom.
This year, I planted my heartier edibles in buckets and placed them in front of where I park my car. More light there. I'm going to test the theory that my garden plot isn't to blame, but the trees around it are, for the sickly preformance of tomatoes and peppers and other veggies the past two years. I check on those plants every day too. I'm thinking I might be a bit OCD.
Wedding plans are still in motion. I have re-addressed the "name" issue. I have a two fold problem with changing my name. First - I'm 36. I have had the same name my entire life and I really don't WANT to change it at all. Second - it's an antiquated formatlity that has a basis in old school property practices which I cannot perpetuate. I don't belong to my future husband. I am agreeing to live the rest of my life with him as a devoted partner; we are to share our life journey and experience the joys and horrors of becoming a family together as co-owners of our actions. I am not dependant on his name for a place in this world, and in fact changing mine leaves me with a feeling of despondency and loss; which should not be the case in marriage. He's not happy with this. I feel bad for causing him unhappiness. Sigh.
T8 has started asking about having sleep-overs at our house. **grumble** My house is small and already filled to the brim with critters, both human and not, and adding to that makes me a little insane. I have agreed that when the weather is right, he can have a sleep-over in the tent...out of doors...in the backyard; maybe. Good thing it's raining.