Sunday, March 2, 2014

Not Bad For A Sunday. Not Bad At All

I've had a piddling day today. I drifted from one project to another like an indecisive butterfly. I did get a few things done. I actually and for real washed the dogs. Who sadly survived without a whimper. Which then necessitated the cleaning of the tub. I almost said "scrubbing" but that would be a bold-faced lie. I did not scrub it. I sprayed generously with KaBoom! and left it for awhile so that the magical foam could do its work and then I sprayed the fuck out of it with the hottest water my water heater can generate. My sprayer attachment in the tub will take the hide off a donkey if it's used full-force so I figure that's sufficient.
It will have to be.

I went upstairs to Jessie's old room and pulled the sheets and quilt off the bed and washed those and hung them on the line and they dried quickly and I remade the bed. Now I need to get in that room and sweep and dust and tidy so that Jessie will feel cozy when she gets here on Thursday. I also washed all the sheets and tablecloths I've been using (mostly in vain) to cover the plants during freezes. Washed, dried, folded, put away so of course it will freeze again. I swept the porch and put a few of the plants back outside which have wintered in the house and pulled a few of the ones which stayed outside to the front of the porch. The ones which have survived. I will not throw any of them away quite yet but will wait patiently to see if some are simply dormant and have the will to push forth some new leaves. My giant bird's nest fern which was one of my pride and joys looks completely dead but I refuse to give up on it. I continue to water it, hoping against all proof to the contrary that it will come back.

I weeded a tiny bit simply so that I didn't have to do housework. I chatted with my neighbor. I checked on the baby chickens about forty-five times. Let me tell you something- baby chicks grow so fast that it is almost frightening. I swear to you- you can see a difference in them between this morning and this evening. If baby humans grew at the rate of baby chickens, they would be ready for kindergarten in approximately a week and ready for college in a month. How does this happen? I suppose its a good thing, evolutionarily. The faster the tiny things are grown, the more quickly they'll be able to run from attack or even fend it off, depending. And the sooner the mother will be able to get back to her life because sitting on eggs and then taking care of the babies is an extremely stressful situation for a hen and they can become so very thin and dehydrated, too. But still- it is disconcerting. All of these babies seem strong and they don't peep much which I am hoping is because they are warm and full and contented. If large amounts of poop are a good indication of this, then they are doing quite well indeed.

So that has been my boring day. I have had none of the euphoria of yesterday but in its way, it has been a very, very fine day and mostly because it has been one more day without the horror of anxiety and no hint of depression either. This continues to be a miracle to me. For me. To simply live my life without the scrabbling of the rats' toenails in my brain, without the constant and obsessive crazy-thoughts, without the wondering of why I am even bothering to try to live is just a pure and true miracle. I have even started taking supplements again. When the anxiety was so bad, I couldn't even begin to think what the point of them was. Life, as I was living it, wasn't really worth the effort, much less Vitamin D or calcium.
But it is now.

The red-carpet portion of the Academy Awards is on and I can't help but wonder why E! can't find someone more interesting than their regular roster of snark-and-ass-kisser interviewers and commentators. I mean, I have nothing against Kelly Osbourne or even Ryan Seacrest but it's like I feel so often with Republican candidates- this is the best they got?
I can't even believe I watch these things but hey- it's the closest this country is ever going to get to royalty with all its pomp and circumstance, the gowns, the jewels, the boobaliciousness. Not that royalty is exactly known for boobaliciousness but you know what I mean. And Ellen DeGeneres never fails to entertain me. Who in the world doesn't love Ellen DeGeneres?
Oh, it's all fiddle playing while Rome burns but there might as well be fiddle playing, I suppose, if Rome is burning.

Well, onward. In Hollywood there are movie stars who no doubt wish their shoes were not so uncomfortable and here in Lloyd the frogs are starting to call.
I know where I'd rather be.
No doubt in my mind at all.


  1. If Rome is burning, then might at the very least have fiddle playing.

  2. Well, I'm looking forward to some boobalicious commentary from you tomorrow.

  3. I always feel like a curmudgeon about your loves, but I do not love Ellen. I find her boring, not funny at all. Very happy that she exists and all, but don't think I'd accept an invitation to a party at her house.

    So, there you have it. The lone non-lover of Ellen.

  4. I love Ellen! Saw your beautiful Lilly at Publix yesterday and I told her I felt like I knew her from your blog. She talked about how cool it is to have a chronicle of her boys growing up. What a gift you're giving to your family - and to all your fans. Thank you!

  5. Ellen Abbott- Exactly.

    Elizabeth- Not enough boobs. That's my commentary.

    NOLA- I knew there would be at least one nay-sayer. Speak your truth, girl!

    Jucie- Oh. Thank you. So much.

  6. I covered up two camellias for a big snow/ice/freeze and left two uncovered. When it was all over, the uncovered ones looked much better than the covered. And these are the japonica, which are touchier up here in the north. So I did not cover anything up for the latest mess.

    I remember thinking when I covered up those bushes "I wonder whether I should be doing this." I was being told something but ignored it because it did not make logical sense in my mind. You would think a person would learn eventually.

  7. I went to a great oyster roast and talked to a lot of old friends that I haven't seen in a while. It was better than the Academy Awards. Maybe the Academy Awards would do better if it were an oyster roast with people in jeans and flannel shirts. Kick back, tell a few yarns, eat a bunch of oysters and pick up an award. Makes more sense to me than the BS that is the actual ceremony.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.