hello love,

It's Sunday and the weather is perfect. I mean PERFECT. It's also one of those ridiculous flipping-tired days with no explanation, but I'm rolling with it? We're making a set of wind chimes out of leftover keys, a la Pinterest. I love it already. I mean, look how many extra keys we've accumulated over the years. No idea what they unlock.

Also, I'm having a glass of wine. Bread is baking in the oven, Italian-style, a la Pinterest too. K.Lo helped put everything in the mixer and for nine minutes we watched the dough hook go round and round.

The deck, as per last week's FB post, is completely rearranged furniture-wise, and I like it. There's all this floor space in the middle, and the red table is squirreled away in a corner, where I'm writing now. The seed-starters are on the table out of puppy's reach. And I can quasi-hide. It's a reincarnation of always choosing a sit in the back of the class.

Guess who gave me this awesome rose - hag neighbor. I mean. There was obviously a price; I had to listen to a string of Life Complaints I Hope to Never Make. But it was nice? It's a lovely rose.

I love the image of your painted floor - a picture please - and the walls and all the other transformations. I need pictorial evidence of what is happening over there! What is filling your days.

And Bruckner's POV makes me laugh - I've conditioned myself over the many years to automatically cringe at overt God-talk. I do wonder. Because for me in my quieter ways I'm inclined to show rather than tell people what I value? But I witness you on your sage-path, amazed. But then, my husband the secular-humanist. I have my foot in both worlds, and I understand each side.

Tonight: fish tacos, twilight 4: part 2 (finally!), more painting of keys. Tomorrow: some uber-inexpensive babyback ribs from Aldi and an evening bonfire, I hope! And Arrested Dev in there, somewhere.

odd-ends

So it's spring break week for the children. Nothing like spring break to make you want a break? Holy shiz. I mean I'm hormonal, so life perspective is inherently skewed. But ho.ly.shiz.

Rather than one long blog-story, my recent life exists on bits of scrap paper ~

We tilled the garden-earth. Add moss and manure and it's already looking better than Year 1. Planted lettuce and peas and soon eggplant and tomatoes, courtesy of mom. Go garden go! That's my favorite day of the whole year possibly, fraught with sunshine and hope and possibility.

Directly before said gardening, the following occurred in the span of maybe 30 minutes: a tick crawled up my leg. a wasp dive-bombed my head. a black widow spider lurked in the soil. An omen of anything? Maybe the actual tick bite discovered later, which STILL ITCHES and I assume will continue to do so for three months, like they do.

No job for now. Maybe August. I mean it makes sense and I get it, but still feel whiny and tragic about the cold hard facts. Freelance filler in the meantime is just so unreliable. Friggin' ugh it stresses me out.

The Sophie has tripled in size during her 7 weeks here, weighing in at 21 pounds. Vet visit number three we took in our usual stride. Next month: last shots and spaying. At a reduced cost we hope.

Starship Lo.Co. allows us to do magical things like tote large objects places and so we finally got rid of that crappy front door sitting in our garage for a year and the stupid lawnmower that ran over a culvert last year. I don't know what that thing was thinking when it went all suicide bomber - had nothing whatsoever to do with its driver, I mean it. So anyway, we left this sign taped to its handlebars in case someone wanted to adopt it. And because we just could not help ourselves. 

On ep 2 of Jericho; it's scratching the Netflixitch for the moment. 

My hag-neighbor's husband has gone to the hospital/nursing home again. Which is a good thing as far as caretaking goes, in that she won't have to live that exhausting existence anymore and he'll have the care he needs. But also it means she's more available to suck one into a conversation, and I hate talking to her. Because as regularly mentioned and oft-noted, she is a hag. So I'm totally happy for her! but she still sucks. 

We're on a SuperMario kick here, in which mommy conquers new worlds and N.Lo thinks I'm wicked awesome. And he has that video game brain that daydreams and devises new plans. But hell if I can't conquer the volcanic hellfire that is World 8! I secretly want to play without an audience sometimes just to make some strides. 

I love church as usual but am currently maxed with it - in accordance with hormonalness - blah. Stupid leadership and bible study - don't. wanna - any of it. But I don't know. Potluck et al tonight could be a welcome distraction from springbreaking? If the brownie fairy would come and make some for me or whatever. 

Onward to another day with library, futile-freelance, puppy-play and not-killing the children!

xoxox

pen