Quick! Get a Hoe!

Last night the garden was finally dry enough to get in and till out the weeds. It was mostly grass and that creepy stuff that looks like a stunted jade plant, but apparently they were enough to dampen the spirit of all the purposeful plants.

Because when we went out today, everything had leaped upwards in the night. It was amazing how much the pumpkins, squash, melons and corn had grown. It's like the weeds were choking the ground and once that tension was relieved, all the green stuff could burst forth and flourish.

Which raises the question -- what weeds are choking me?

The Elves are Fired!

Since the elves didn't show up -- the lazy little sods -- I had to paint the kitchen myself this weekend. I've been planning to do it since we moved in last year, and I don't even want to admit to myself how long I've had the paint stashed away. There just never seemed to be time to do it. Translation: I could always think of something better to do and I put it off.

But we have company coming next weekend, and this weekend was free, and Dave and I decided to be resolute (He'd been wanting to paint his office.). Actually, Dave was resolute; I was wavering, leaning toward absolute procrastination once again. It was going to be a pain painting around all those cupboards, and how was I going to paint behind the refrigerator? And I'd invariably step in the paint and track it all over my hardwood floors. AARGH!

But. It wasn't, I managed, and I didn't spill a drop. Surprise, surprise, it wasn't nearly as arduous as I imagined, as with most things I dread. I don't know why I forget that -- when I want to learn Italian or stand up for myself -- or like this morning, when I go back to a book I abandoned for my sewing room several months ago.

It's been a long hiatus. Will my characters remember me? Or will they turn their backs and fling their noses in the air? Is my countryside overgrown and weedy? Are all the buildings boarded up?

I'm dreading it. Here's one situation where I'm afraid my imagination will fail me, and I won't be able to think of a thing to write even if there is a person still left in my town who's still speaking to me. It's going to hard and painful and lonely.

Or. Maybe it'll be fun. Maybe I'll be welcomed back like a long-lost friend. Maybe I won't spill the paint.

A Bit Beaverish and a Lot of Sobbing

So far this spring I've heard Samantha sing and watched her dance, visited Meredith's new apartment and cheered Melissa on as she finished a marathon. We've wrangled feuding cats and a buffet we bought at an auction down into the basement. We've planted peas, potatoes, tomatoes and pumpkins, and constructed Mr. McGregor's garden for the lettuce, cabbage and other nibbly bits. I started marigolds and zinnias from seeds and cornered the market on geraniums. And, oh, yeah, I turned 50.

How the bloody hell did I get to be 50!?!?!

Many of my friends tried to console me -- "Fifty's not old."; "You're as young as you feel."; "Fifty is the new forty." Of course, all of these friends are still in their thirties and forties and haven't gotten the first death knell in the mail -- the initial AARP card. However, my oldest sister gave me the best message: "Welcome to the age where you no longer care what anyone thinks and you can say whatever you want."

So with that said:

*I didn't clean up and possibly put on make-up to listen to your child scream in a restaurant. Either pop him on the behind or, if you're afraid of child services, take him outside. I don't care if he's gifted or talented. From my perspective, he's a loud distraction that I shouldn't have to endure.

*Tampons should not be flowery scented. It's not natural and it makes me uneasy.

*Instead of relying on plug-in artificial fragrances, how about cleaning your house once in awhile?

*Why was it high treason that we rail against Dubya while he was in office, but it's perfectly fine to depict Obama as Hitler?

I do feel better. Maybe there's something to this 50-thing after all.

Spring Comes to the Playground

I've forgotten what Teddy looks like. Since the weather turned warm, we've barely seen his furry self. He had a lot of time to make up for given the long winter, and he's not the only one. We've been working outside every chance we get -- putting in new flower beds and getting the garden tilled. I've loved every minute of it -- OK, maybe not the down-on-my-knees-digging-grass-remnants-out-of-the-flowerbed part -- but definitely being outside and watching the bulbs we planted last fall emerge.

I could hardly wait for the scilla to appear this year. That was my favorite flower in Ann Arbor, spreading under the yellow wood tree. We have a way to go before we achieve that kind of carpet, but it's a start!

Glorious Fecundity

It's melting!! It's melting!! I can once again see the patio furniture that I didn't get under cover in time, and the brown, dead-looking trumpet vine that is soon to be replaced with a clematis as soon as I can dig it out, and the rest of my decaying pumpkins that I used as place holders for the chicken wire that I didn't need after all to keep the squirrels away from my tulip bulbs. We've exchanged the snows of Colorado for the swamps of Florida and I couldn't be happier.

So what that Teddy can't be bothered to wipe his feet when he returns from his adventures! Who cares that a skunk apparently courted his beloved under our bedroom window last night and managed to stink up the entire house! I'm delighted that I'll have to scrub the snot off the siding where poor old Arnold cleared out his sinuses all winter. I didn't need the recently arrived flock of robins to deliver the news. Spring is coming!

The World's Ugliest Cat

The cats are moving off the porch today from whence we took pity on them during the snowstorms. I'm tired of my porch looking like the Joads live here, but mostly, with the exception of Miss Kitty, the cats are smelly and pungently territorial. And more than that -- Dave found a possum living under the straw!!

He had a great gig going -- nice cozy den with room service, but ICK!!! I know possums are earthly creatures and probably have some purpose in the scheme of the world, but . . . ICK!!

Dave happened to notice Mr. Possum last night when he was out investigating something that fell to the earth burning -- yeah, yeah, but that's another story -- and thank god, he did because I nearly picked the straw up the other day to carry it out to the shed. That's all I need -- a painful series of rabies shots because I accidentally picked up a possum. Not to mention all the rehabilitation after my heart attack.

How wonderful to have married a hero. I tell him he should wear a cape. Not only does he open the door to noisy closets at 5 in the morning, but now he has vanquished the possum from the porch.

The Whole Winter's Been a Lion

It's been quite awhile since I've logged on, but the only topics that came to my mind were weather-related, and if you live in the Midwest -- or the East coast -- you're sick of hearing, worrying and talking about the weather right now -- bitching about the snow and longing for spring.

So let's talk quilts! It's time for a Pickle Dish update. As of today, I have thirty pickle dish arcs done for my traditional Pickle Dish quilt, and the entire 24 completed for the Christmas Pickle project. I am in love with the foundation piecing of Pickle Dish arcs. I get in the zone and Pickle Dishes fly out of my sewing machine.

What brings me to earth is the sobering prospect of connecting curved piece to curved piece. But I am resolute! And I will tackle that portion of the challenge this week and let you know who it goes.

Happy March 1st!