2:45 pm – Now updated with more kvetching!
I have a lot of work today but I can’t concentrate until I get this off my chest.
Truth: my subtext of internal dialog goes like this: buh buh buh buh buh
And the reason for it is this. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the theme songs from Farmer’s Insurance and Hot In Cleveland are conspiring to keep my head full of buh buh buh. Is there no escape?
In other kvetching, it looks like the dopey creek project will have a suitably matching dopey fence around it soon. In the world of fencing, can there be a fence more inefficient at keeping things out than the classic split rail style?
Supplies have been dumped. Countdown to running hordes of trouble-making 12 year olds: 3 … 2.. 1 …
There’s so much tangential goings-on around the creek project. Remind me to tell you about how they put in new sidewalks because of the new catch basin and had to conform to current ADA standards by making all driveway aprons meet flush with the road pavement and they did that by chopping out half of my concrete driveway and re-angling that part, changing the slope significantly. In the 16 feet of driveway that they replaced, the drop is 21 inches. Ironic that their efforts to meet ADA standards made it a real physical challenge to walk up the drive. We protested and they offered to solve the issue (that they created) by building a wooden ramp from my front steps down through the middle of the lawn and through the heart of my magnificent rhododendrons.
These people are insane.
The Great Wall of Rhododendrons featuring Mr. Sami, circa 2009
UPDATE: Wait. One more thing.
This professional photo, in a nutshell, is everything that is wrong with the modern bridal industrial complex:
oooh i am a naked bride and someone hung my wedding dress so high in a filthy tree that even if i stand on a golf cart i won’t be able to reach it
5′ plant stakes in a 2′ tomato pot
The secret to successful tomato plant support is sturdy staking and old pantyhose. Sami offered to shorten these for me so that they’re not so ridiculous but I’m pleased with my own hubris about the size of these stakes and I think I’ll leave them.
Who among us does not love the smell of a tomato plant? It occurs to me that I’ve chosen extremely fragrant plants for the pots this year. Not plants that are fragrant on the breeze, but plants that release an intoxicating aroma when they’re touched. Whenever I deadhead a marigold, I sniff the flowerhead and then roll it in my hand until it releases its seeds. The bright red geraniums don’t even need to be deadheaded to take part in the fragrance game – I usually rub a leaf whenever I pass one. Rub it between thumb and forefinger as if I was evaluating velvet.
I’m not sleeping in the kitchen but that’s where one of the open widows is. Everything is going wrong. My lovely gas grill has rusty streaks on the lid my rose bushes are rambling wrecks the stupid creek is agonizingly visible and the deck is already impossibly hot without the shade of the trees. I have a mosquito bite on my toe which is The. Worst. I should have been on the road an hour ago but I’m not even showered yet. I’m a little depressed.
This picture was taken from my second floor bathroom.
These yews – taller than they look here – are all that’s left between my yard and the gen pop on the next street. They’ve stood thick and magnificently dark green at the edge of the wild tangle of feral trees and volunteer grapevines and poison ivy stems as thick as a baseball bat. When I looked out the window today, I see that they are sort of sickly yellow in some places and kind of sparse. This isn’t good.
So this is what it’s come to:
Now maybe that looks tacky to you but I have to tell you that I am thrilled to death by the addition of an inexpensive vinyl reed roll up shade to the gazebo. I have two more for the sides. It might look like a cobbled together poor man’s sweat lodge from the outside, but from the inside it is a lovely cabana – ca BAN ya! – that positively glows when the sun shines.
Right now the stupid orange bench is on top of the the picnic table. I should get a grip on myself and finish painting it even though the thrill is gone. I might not have trees, I might not have any actual grass, but by God I’ve got a cabana and I’m going to maximize its usage.