Marriage

Him:  Pickles?  You planted pickles or did you mean cucumbers? (him reading the tags I painstakingly put at each row)
Me (glaring):
Him:  Aren't they pickles only after you pickle them?
Me:
Him:  Did you put the melons in here?  Don't they sprawl and go all over the place?
Me:
Him:  Do we eat that many beets?  That is a lot of beets.
Me:  (I open my mouth to say something but can't think of anything that won't come out bitchy)
Him:  Swiss chard?  Do we eat swiss chard?
Me (grumpy now):  Yes, and we love it!
Him:  Are those the hardy hibiscus?
Me:  No.  You will have to carry the pots in when it gets cold.
Him (with a laugh):  No.  I'm not.
Me (This is when I officially lost it.  I try to stomp away but after all this gardening, my knee hurts a little.  So I limp away -way less aggressively than I'd've liked to):

I admit, I was questioning things too after this interrogation.   Mind you, the above is just a small portion of the actual '20 Question's' game he was playing.  Why did I marry this man?  I shouldn't have to explain beets and melons.  It's 100 degrees out here I just wanted him to silently help me run hoses.  I turned and spit behind the tree (see New Year's Resolutions post).

Some of my friends say they married their best friend.  I did not marry my bf, my best friend is Janice.  I married a super cute cowboy pilot -who likes to interrogate and explain stuff.  Because he likes to interrogate and explain stuff, he does not know how much I spent on the new quilt and curtains I bought for our room.  "They were on sale" is always my answer.  Janice, she knows what I actually spent on them.  I don't try to look spiffy for Janice, I do for the man I married though.  Janice would certainly compliment my hard work in the garden and not question vegetable choices.

There I am limping around the yard, thinking about marriage and shit when I see a pile of metal.  This was from a gazebo we bought from Lowe's that blew into the neighbors yard, twice.  Two times.  We've patched and welded it back twice.  The third time it went flying, we gave up and the cowboy pilot built a pavilion that would not blow away.  I'm serious, he built it, I bet a rhino couldn't knock it down.  I'm starting to think he isn't all bad.  If he could only be less, you know, talking.

The pile of metal that once was a gazebo is just laying there trashing up the flower bed for the last 2 years.  2 Years.  I start a kind of rant to myself.  Mind you, my knee hurts and I had to go through an interrogation about my garden.  Now I'll have make time to deal with this metal mess, only because I chose that moment to be sick of looking at it.  I'll have to drag the pieces up the hill to the Buick taking about 100 trips to get it all.  Should I attempt to use the wheelbarrow? (last time I used the wheelbarrow I ended up with bruises all over my shins)  Will the dump take it?  Isn't there a place that will give you money for metal?  This might help with my flute situation, though.  This is all coming out of my mouth in an under my breath, pissy type tone.

He's hears me because he's a super cute ninja cowboy pilot and says, "I was going to make that into a greenhouse for you."  F me.  That's why I married him.  I remember now.

No one said it would be easy being married to a ninja cowboy pilot.  For one, he is never home.  For another, one minute you're standing there minding your own business when suddenly, there he is right behind you.  You never even heard him coming.  As you stand there collecting yourself wondering if the neighbors heard you scream, you realize this Wrangler wearing Texan is going to love the new quilt and curtains.

You have to give and take and appreciate.  You have to let your partner (for life) be who they are, no trying to change anything.  No judgement -just understanding and respect.  Sometimes these lines of respect and understanding get blurred but at the end of the day, if you can put it back together and hit it again tomorrow, it's a win.  Or a greenhouse....whatever.

Social Media and Nonsense

This phone call happened. "Have you seen Anna's Facebook page?"  It came from my daughter's riding coach, Mary.  I'm all, "Anna doesn't have a Facebook page."  Knowing as I say that that Anna probably does indeed have a Facebook page.  Trey, the riding coach's son, received a "friend request" from her.  Mary sent me a screen shot of her profile picture.  Oh hell and Dammit.  The picture, although she looks great, was too much.  Too much cleavage, too much pouty -I'm trying to be sexy at 15.  Mary gives me the disclaimer about how she thought I should know and that she thinks of Anna as her own.  I get it.  Not only do I get it, I am grateful.

I try to find her page and I can't; I'm pretty sure I'm blocked.  Now I'm kinds of pissed.  I gardened all week, my knee hurts a little, I had bronchitis and the husband was gone -now this.  When she gets home from school I am there waiting, hoping to remain calm.  I say, "Let's look at your Facebook page."  She gives me that "Oh shit" look and says, "I don't have Facebook."  I say, "Look, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be sitting here wanting to see it if I wasn't 99.9% sure you have one.  I'm busy, I'm not doing this for fun."  "Okay!  God!!"  She exclaims gathering her defenses, "I got it for my email" she comes up with.  I'm all, for her email??  What the hell?  That doesn't even jive.   She reluctantly pulls it up and we discuss.

We discuss how this older man who is a friend of her friend is NOT her friend.  The dude flashing signs and colors, is not her friend either.  I explain that this is social media and her friends are Grandma, her Aunts, her cousins and the people I know she knows.  She asks if she and I are going to be fb friends and I say, "...of course, but not because we are friends".  It's more of a mothering and less of a "friending".  All I can think of is the 60 girls who disappeared form our area in the last year.

We happened across her friend, Hope's page.  Holy cleavage, Batman.  Hope's friends are mostly older men.  Men.  Not teenage boys, of course there is a lot of them too.  Now I'm in this conundrum of do I tell her mom?  I appreciated the heads up from Mary, so I shoot the mom a quick text, "Hey in the interest of teen safety, I was going over fb stuff with Anna and happened across Hope's page.  I think you should check it  out."  The mom wanted me to clarify what she was looking for.  I replied, "boobs" thinking she would definitely look at everything.  She wanted me to clarify cleavage or actual boobs.  I'm all ???  I can't even.

The pics are still up, the "friends" are still there lurking and the parent ratted me out to the kid.  Apparently not everyone gets it or is grateful.

“A monster. You and your friends, all of you. Pretty monsters. It's a stage all girls go through. If you're lucky you get through it without doing any permanent damage to yourself or anyone else.” 
― Kelly Link

I'm going to water my freshly laid garden, ice up my knee and draw a sun.  I may stop at the liquor store and get some whiskey -for that lingering bronchial cough.  I'm also going to pray.  "Dear God, don't let me f up my kids and please, little baby Jesus, help me keep them safe."

In the interest of art and writing, I am plugging in 1,000 words a day on the book.  I am also waiting on the note cards.  I'm trying a different paper.  Wish me luck and keep an eye out, they'll make a great mother's day gift!

David Bowie got it.

It's Not Easy

If I read even one more article about how easy it is to self publish your picture book through this avenue or that.  If I waste one more minute reading or following their simple instructions that lands me right back where I started from, I'm going to have a full on hissy fit.  Unfortunately, I save these articles to read during elementary school carline so I would lose it there.  In car line.  It's bad enough that half the time I show up unshowered and distracted.  People would probably see me losing my crap thinking, "Yup.  There she goes" or "It was just a matter of time" as they shake their heads watching the shit show.

Really though, I went to college, I can read and follow directions.  Amazon's "easy" self publishing tool?  Yeah, I have recruited the help of a professional -for the computer not my head.  The thing is, when you are working with a  new program like Kindle Kids' Book Creator it's like learning a new language.  You have to click around and see how it works,  then you You Tube some shit and Google too.  But, when I click on the preview thing and it doesn't do what it is supposed to, I'm like, "Hmmm.."  If unplugging or using a different browser doesn't fix it, that's it folks, that's is the extent of my computer knowledge.  Like a monkey, I try the same thing a few more times before I call in help.

As I mentioned, this book should have been done a long time ago.  When you need help ask for it.

“Doing research on the Web is like using a library assembled piecemeal by pack rats and vandalized nightly. ” 
― Roger Ebert

I need help.  Contrary to popular belief, the problem is not of the whiskey variety...it's spring.  Every spring I walk into Home Depot and think I am the step child of Mother Nature.  I have a list of seeds and plants that I have room for.  I leave with those and things like borage, anything organic or heirloom gets me off; usually I get an idea for a new bed that I'll put somewhere.

I dropped my daughter off at an appointment and was headed to a coffee shop.  It is not my usual part of town so I was relying on there being a Starbucks to pop up on my google maps.  When suddenly I spot a nursery I haven't seen before.  I slammed my brakes and flipped a U'y right there like I remembered my oven was on and my house was burning down.  Right there on that very busy street.  Only one person honked, but I didn't even care.  I flipped him off because...Nursery.

I walked in telling myself I'd just look.  Being that it is a privately owned nursery, I knew things would be more expensive.  I would just look.  I don't know what happened.  Suddenly I had a 2 tier buggy and it was full.  The husband and I just had that, "let's save money" conversation, but I could not help myself.  I called Janice and demanded she figure out an intervention for me.

I've already been to Home Depot...and Lowe's.

 
I ordered the new mum notecard, pictures soon. T-Rexy is with the computer guy and I've been going pretty hard on the novel.  Plus, spring...

Herb garden                                                              New bed

My neighbor, seeing me getting stuff in the ground, asked I wanted the tomato cages he built.  He said he didn't need them any more?  I'm still trying to figure that out.  I practically hugged him; okay, I'm lying, I totally hugged him, it might've even be considered a tackle in some circles.  Then I carried off my new cages.

“Novels and gardens," she says. "I like to move from plot to plot.” 
― Bill Richardson, Bachelor Brothers' Bed & Breakfast