Bridal Wreath Spirea
Isn't that a sweet picture of a sweet flower? Each small blossom cluster does indeed look like a bridal wreath made up of tiny individual blooms. I'm sure there's a name for that. I'm certain I don't know it.
Ugh. I've just been in an itchy mean mood all day. Luckily for the human race, I've not seen a soul except for two people who passed in front of my house walking a dog, NOT ON THE SIDEWALK! WTF? I only spied on them from the doorway. Not like I spoke to them or anything.
Here's another thing that happened- about six fire trucks and at least two ambulances went roaring and screaming past my house this afternoon, heading west. I honestly did not know that Jefferson County had six fire trucks. I wonder what that was all about? I can only imagine something very dreadful.
I do not know what the cause of my mood has been. Since I haven't been around anyone, there's been no one to piss me off so we can't blame that. I worked in the garden a little, working the dirt and getting it ready to receive some rattlesnake beans and cucumber and squash seeds and I planted those. I finished all of the monkey grass clearing I wanted to do around those roses, cleaned out the hen house and put the poopy hay around the bushes as mulch.
I got this picture from Jessie.
They went to a book themed birthday party and Jessie made August into a little mouse from "When You Give A Mouse A Cookie." And even though that's the cutest mouse I've ever seen in my life, I still felt pissy.
Hell. I even made soup and that hasn't made me feel one bit better.
And now my husband's home and Hank and his friends are all delivered safely to the island for their stay and I should be happy, right? My husband even brought me back some shrimp and stone crab claws.
STONE CRAB CLAWS! DO YOU HEAR ME?
And yet, I am still pissy.
Look at this.
Chickens in roses. What could be better?
Which is pretty much the definition of happy-making.
And then there's this.
No. Not the poop. The wings! I'm beginning to wonder if that chick is even of the chicken family. I've never seen a chick's wings grow as fast as Nicey 3-3's are. That baby is going to be flying around the bathroom in a few days.
So. All of this should add up to be enough to at least make me contented if not ecstatically ecstatic, right?
Ah. I'm just an old bitch. A bitchy old bitch.
And this too shall pass.
I hope it passes soon because Mr. Moon does not deserve the fruits of this bitchy bitter tree I've climbed and settled in.
I think I'm going to make some Irish soda bread.
And if that doesn't make me happy then I need to just go to bed.
Love...Your Friend, Mrs. Bitchy McBitch Face, aka Ms. Moon