Oh, Nothing Much
It's 6:22 p.m. and still about 85 degrees according to the interweb. I am sitting in my garden in the swing with my feet in the grass and an ice cold glass of...well, I checked and right now it's just ice. That's fine. I have on summertime chooch-togs I wouldn't dare wear in public. The dog stopped panting just a few minutes ago, so it is cooling off. Though I wouldn't swear to it.
In garden news: An Anna's Hummingbird hen is very active, zipping around a blue/purple salvia shrub she has shown affinity for. The sage (I don't remember the name of it, but it's the culinary variety) is blooming with almost frightening vigor. It's getting a little too large: the birdbath can no longer be seen from the swing. Someday I'll stand get up from here and trim it, but it's so pretty. I don't want to do it just yet. In a week or so the flowers will fade; that's soon enough.
The sudden heat is killing the daphne ordorata, the one that was so pretty and growing so well (accursed by my hubris no doubt), not the zombie mutant one. Such is life though. I can't be bothered to mourn very much now, it is so balmy and the swing is rocking so sweetly, the breeze is soft and ever-so-slightly cooler. Tomorrow I'll shriek with infantile disappointment and shake my fist at the gods for being so mean to the poor daphne.
Oh look. The avocado tree is...blooming? Are those nasty little things flowers? I wonder if it is self-pollinating. It's a Haas, a variety I like. That's where the pit came from at any rate. It sprouted in the compost and was such a brave, plucky little Shirley Temple soldier that I took pity on it and planted it in the yard. Of course avocado rinds and seeds never disintegrate, having a longer half-life than plutonium, so it's just as well I took it out of the compost bin.
The poor Terrierist is panting again.
OH! Isn't this splendid: http://www.theroot.com/views/eugene-robinson-wins-pulitzer-prize
I have just had my usual Harriet the Spy hot weather supper of a tomato sandwich. Mrs. Skwashy brought innumerable bags and boxes of candy from Norway, and has been serving a small selection every day in a bowl in the kitchen. Today she put out marzipan. I didn't know till I had taken a bite of one which was shaped and colored a little like a tiny hamburger. I don't know what flavor I was expecting (hamburger perhaps) but it was marzipan, which makes me a little nauseated. Probably due to a forgotten bout of overindulgence following some childhood Christmas stocking orgy.
What was I going to tell you about? I forget. Heh. Oh! I remember. Sigh. I have a Gynecologist visit tomorrow to investigate an irregularity discovered by Dr. Diana during her viewing of the Down Theres. Plz can i has a hysterectomy kthx. For THIS is saved my poor beleaguered uterus, opting for a myomectomy at the urging of Dr. M. upon whom I had the BIGGEST crush at the time. She wanted to make me pregnant, you see. Well she DID. You don't believe me, you infidel, but she was interested in impregnation techniques and knew it was unlikely I would attempt it in the vulgar way. I really was interested in having babies at one time, believe it or not. Plus she was a cute and curvy butch girl, a type that I find utterly irresistible. Don't tell Mrs. Skwashy.
Swoony Dr. M.:
Hey, don't look at me that way. Mrs. Skwashy is that type too.
Anyway, having a huge crush on your gynecologist is not an ideal situation, don't you know, so I left her care after the last surgical follow-up. I said, "So, now that we're not doctor and patient anymore would you care to come to the airport with me?" (I was going to the airport frequently for reasons having to do with the recent death of my mother, though I don't remember what they were) and she gave me a VERY long look and sort of stuttered. I said, "Well, think about it."
Femmes do have to take the wheel in these circumstances you know or there would never be any HLA*, and I am not exactly...unforthcoming in that way. But actually Dr. M. was married to another doctor at the time--one who was also treating me. When I saw Dr. Wife next SHE gave me a very long look too. I didn't know why at the time. Hee hee! Sorry Dr. Wife. I'm not that shameless.
I have been listening to "The Mary Ellen Carter", a boat song Mrs. Skwashy found that is terribly hopeful and inspirational. It ends:
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling (plural noun having to do with parentage) lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
Or life about to end.
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend,
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
It's a bit sentimental, but honestly rousing if sung right. And pertinent to current events, you know, mine and the world at large. The Oracle/Sun affiliation may beget great changes chez Skwashy---so many other chezes have undergone changes recently, drastic ones, ugly slimy ones. Uncertain times.
Light a candle for us kthx.
Here come the mosquitoes. Time to go indoors and work on the spanking stories.
*Ask me if you don't know what that means.
In garden news: An Anna's Hummingbird hen is very active, zipping around a blue/purple salvia shrub she has shown affinity for. The sage (I don't remember the name of it, but it's the culinary variety) is blooming with almost frightening vigor. It's getting a little too large: the birdbath can no longer be seen from the swing. Someday I'll stand get up from here and trim it, but it's so pretty. I don't want to do it just yet. In a week or so the flowers will fade; that's soon enough.
The sudden heat is killing the daphne ordorata, the one that was so pretty and growing so well (accursed by my hubris no doubt), not the zombie mutant one. Such is life though. I can't be bothered to mourn very much now, it is so balmy and the swing is rocking so sweetly, the breeze is soft and ever-so-slightly cooler. Tomorrow I'll shriek with infantile disappointment and shake my fist at the gods for being so mean to the poor daphne.
Oh look. The avocado tree is...blooming? Are those nasty little things flowers? I wonder if it is self-pollinating. It's a Haas, a variety I like. That's where the pit came from at any rate. It sprouted in the compost and was such a brave, plucky little Shirley Temple soldier that I took pity on it and planted it in the yard. Of course avocado rinds and seeds never disintegrate, having a longer half-life than plutonium, so it's just as well I took it out of the compost bin.
The poor Terrierist is panting again.
OH! Isn't this splendid: http://www.theroot.com/views/eugene-robinson-wins-pulitzer-prize
I have just had my usual Harriet the Spy hot weather supper of a tomato sandwich. Mrs. Skwashy brought innumerable bags and boxes of candy from Norway, and has been serving a small selection every day in a bowl in the kitchen. Today she put out marzipan. I didn't know till I had taken a bite of one which was shaped and colored a little like a tiny hamburger. I don't know what flavor I was expecting (hamburger perhaps) but it was marzipan, which makes me a little nauseated. Probably due to a forgotten bout of overindulgence following some childhood Christmas stocking orgy.
What was I going to tell you about? I forget. Heh. Oh! I remember. Sigh. I have a Gynecologist visit tomorrow to investigate an irregularity discovered by Dr. Diana during her viewing of the Down Theres. Plz can i has a hysterectomy kthx. For THIS is saved my poor beleaguered uterus, opting for a myomectomy at the urging of Dr. M. upon whom I had the BIGGEST crush at the time. She wanted to make me pregnant, you see. Well she DID. You don't believe me, you infidel, but she was interested in impregnation techniques and knew it was unlikely I would attempt it in the vulgar way. I really was interested in having babies at one time, believe it or not. Plus she was a cute and curvy butch girl, a type that I find utterly irresistible. Don't tell Mrs. Skwashy.
Swoony Dr. M.:
Hey, don't look at me that way. Mrs. Skwashy is that type too.
Anyway, having a huge crush on your gynecologist is not an ideal situation, don't you know, so I left her care after the last surgical follow-up. I said, "So, now that we're not doctor and patient anymore would you care to come to the airport with me?" (I was going to the airport frequently for reasons having to do with the recent death of my mother, though I don't remember what they were) and she gave me a VERY long look and sort of stuttered. I said, "Well, think about it."
Femmes do have to take the wheel in these circumstances you know or there would never be any HLA*, and I am not exactly...unforthcoming in that way. But actually Dr. M. was married to another doctor at the time--one who was also treating me. When I saw Dr. Wife next SHE gave me a very long look too. I didn't know why at the time. Hee hee! Sorry Dr. Wife. I'm not that shameless.
I have been listening to "The Mary Ellen Carter", a boat song Mrs. Skwashy found that is terribly hopeful and inspirational. It ends:
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling (plural noun having to do with parentage) lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
Or life about to end.
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend,
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
It's a bit sentimental, but honestly rousing if sung right. And pertinent to current events, you know, mine and the world at large. The Oracle/Sun affiliation may beget great changes chez Skwashy---so many other chezes have undergone changes recently, drastic ones, ugly slimy ones. Uncertain times.
Light a candle for us kthx.
Here come the mosquitoes. Time to go indoors and work on the spanking stories.
*Ask me if you don't know what that means.