Fleeing Husbands, Threatening Gardeners, and Sneaky Vulcans

This morning Darling Husband looked up from reading something on the phone and said, with a twitchy lip, “It’s, uh, grocery shopping day today, isn’t it?”  “Yeah…why?”  Suspicious.  “They’re predicting downpours all day today.”  More lip twitching.  He managed to keep his snickering under control until he left the house.  It had just started sprinkling.  “Oh, lookie here!  It’s raining!”  And he fled.

This is a picture of my backyard in today’s rain.  Willy Wonka has a chocolate river.  I have a mudslide. The kids beg me every time it rains (on grocery shopping day) to play in the backyard.  “We won’t get in the mud!”  I’d love to say yes, but whenever I try to, my eye twitches.  Sort of like Darling Husband’s twitching lip, but not really.

Let’s look at the yard:

In the back, on top of the rotting wood pile, there’s a balled up bit of blue tarp, collecting water.  We’ll be glad for that water if they ever drop a bomb on us.  (Show watched while cleaning the kitchen:  Jericho.)

The boys kicked over one of the path lights.  Not that it matters.  The lights haven’t worked in 7 years.

There’s a hose to a cpap machine in a puddle on the ground.  The boys play with it.  When I was their age, I would have been grateful to have a cpap hose to play with.  You would have been considered lucky if you had a cpap hose.  Kids today have it so easy.

If you look closely, you can even see a dirty sock hanging on that wooden thing hanging off the screened in porch (on the right side of the picture.)  The sock’s been there for about 2 years.  I think.  It all blurs together.

Obviously, we’re not really into the whole “yard” thing.  We had to put up that fence to hide our lawn from the neighbors.  Sort of.  The people we bought the house from grew mildly threatening when we joked about how nice the yard was and we weren’t sure we could maintain it like they had.  At closing they said, “You are going to keep up with the yard, aren’t you?  We’re moving just outside of town.  We drive past this house on the way to work every day.  We’ll know if the yard isn’t kept up.”  Uuuuhhh…

People get funny about their houses when they sell them.  Back when we bought our first house the sellers asked us at closing, “You’re not going to take down the (ghastly) wallpaper in the baby’s room, are you?”  And when we said, “Uuuhhh….” (because we were never, ever, having kids!  Nope!  Not us!), the woman hid her head on her husband’s shoulder and he had to comfort her, “There, there.  We can’t make them keep the baby’s wallpaper.”

But, back to the yard and gardening:

My mother and I used to sit around for hours every evening, talking.  Those are some of my favorite memories.  Just sitting and talking.  I would make a bowl of ramen noodles (I ate them for breakfast and dessert every day for about 17 years–no, I am not kidding), and she would have a cup of coffee and we’d talk about nothing for hours.

In the winter, one of our favorite topics of conversation was about the garden we were going to plant in the spring.  Oh, the ideas we had!  We would have tiny whitewashed picket fences with charming gates, hand painted with flowering vines.  We’d have flowers in one part and vegetables in the other.  Gravel paths.  Fountains.  Birdbaths.  Birdhouses that we would make ourselves.  The yard would be a Versailles of floral delights.

And then the first hot day of the year would hit.  And so would our hayfever.  No central airconditioning.  Gnats.  Dirt.  Sweat.  Pollen.  Sneezes.  And we’d laugh and laugh uproariously at all our winter plans until the tears streamed down our faces.  “And we were (gasp for air) gonna (snort) hand paint the fence!  (hahahahaha!)”

A few years ago when she lived nearby my mother called to say, “I’ve started a garden!  Now, don’t get too excited, because it’s small, but it’s sooo beautiful.  I’ve planted it in that tiny plot of land between the shed and the house.  It’s meant to be a wild garden, so don’t expect anything grand.  Sometimes I go out there and just look at it and I feel so peaceful.”

So I went to see it.  The tiny plot of land was about 1 foot by 3 feet between the house and the shed.  In the middle of some scraggly grass and a few weeds was one lone daisy.  One. Lone. Daisy.

Well, it was better than my mudslide.


Star Trek Stats:

Seduction and betrayal of a naive female:  1

This time Spock (not Kirk!) got to seduce the woman into acting like a dunderhead.  Those Romulans were just silly for letting a woman be a commander.  Obviously women can’t handle power.  They’re fluff heads as soon as a man walks in the room.  Why did we ever allow women the right to vote?  Tsk, tsk.  Well.  At least we all know that they’re voting the way their husbands tell them to, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.


5 thoughts on “Fleeing Husbands, Threatening Gardeners, and Sneaky Vulcans

  1. Our problem was polson ivy,until we got a guy who wasn’t afraid of it. Our across the street neighbor told him,that was the best our yard looked since they moved in. If it was up to me, I’d as soon do the yard in green pebbles,the Arizona Sun City look.

    • Your poison ivy was a sight to behold! I used to warn the children when we walked past your house, “Watch out for that poison ivy!” It would slither across the sidewalk and try to entangle the children’s feet.

      Late at night while you’re sleepin’
      poison ivy comes a-creepin’

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