Flower Bed Renovation

Points of Interest:

1. Sister moved to Dallas to live with Mom. Am glad she’s here, because it is better for her.

2. Dug out front flower beds, and 2 small beds in the back yard. House looks amazing, if unfinished in the back.

The project in process…

Tony digging in…

What I was doing while Tony went to get more rocks…

Finished product.

The Japanese maple I bought in Stillwater a few years ago. His name is Harry, and he seems to like my office window a lot.

Me in my overalls sweating to the MD. Note enormous pile of crap behind me that I dug out from this tiny flowerbed. The workers who build these houses bury their coke cans, their pipe fragments, their concrete leavings, everything, under a thin veneer of grass. Most people will never know anything’s down there, and honestly, who’s gonna be able to pick Paco out of a lineup and say it’s his beer can. If you’ve seen Better Luck Tomorrow, you know why I wondered what else is down there.

Me in my overalls close up. Me smiling that “Why are you taking my picture like this?” smile.

Long shot of everything once it was done for the day on Sunday.

My lovely fishy stepping stone.

Mexican Feather Grass planted, and hopefully soon successful in this bed.

Closeup of 1/2 the crap dug up.

Firecracker plant and imitation Tay “birdhouse” (too small for actual birds…)

Lucky goldfish!

This little decoration was so ugly when I bought it, but when I added these beads instead of the stupid ugly plastic ones that were there, this $3 bargain decoration becamse worthy of my garden. Took, like, 5 minutes.

3. My cats r cute, monstrously so. Mecca has taken to sleeping with us now, now that we’re not stuffing crap down her throat every night. She actually loves to sleep cuddled tight against us, but often gets too hot, and retires to another location. She was laying next to her daddy last night, though, with her head on his pillow and her little old kitty body under the covers. My princess. It bothers me to see the signs of age in her body, the occasional stiffness, the fur that is starting to look like an old over-adored teddy bear. Her life is only getting better as far as I am concerned, because, no matter what she wants, I am inclined to give it to her. Shrimp? Sure. Beef jerky? Sure. Make myself late to work because she is curled against my leg asleep? Sure. Let her sit right in front of the keyboard so I have to type with one finger on my left hand? Sure.

4. American people sometimes have serious issues with English. I laughed so hard when I read these that I had to take pictures with the PDA. My husband asked me where this person was from before he laughed at the grammar. It’s not bad for a recent immigrant, but this woman is from America, y’all. Was thinking of sending this to Engrish.com, but it’s disqualified by its origin. Both, I have a sneaking suspicion, were written by the same building manager.

Names have been changed to protect the ignorant.

5. Got a postcard from a friend in japan. She is so sweet. But she didn’t put a return address on it at all. If she’s reading this, I want her to know I haven’t forgotten her, I just think she didn’t get my emails…

6. Adore Don Omar right now. Listened to Lee Hom, Jay Chow and all those Chinese CDs way too much. Because I drive too much. Bought Don Omar’s MP3 CD online and love “Ella Y Yo”. Since the title means “She and I” and there are 2 men singing, maybe I don’t want to know what’s happening in this song. I like it anyway. Maybe I am better off that way. I didn’t want to buy the whole CD, but the track I wanted was an “album only” track. Fucking ripoff. So miss Napster.

7. Spring is springing. I am not letting my PDA’s limitations keep me from taking pictures. Some of them turn out pretty damn good in spite of themselves.

8. Finished reading All He Ever Wanted and Written on Glass. Liked the first a little, couldn’t put the second one down. Though, it is written in British English, with words like “geyser” I had to resort to an online Am-Brit list, because, seriously…what?!? It’s almost always the same, except for words like “sceptical”, which just doesn’t work in American, and other oddities. Likes the aura of the book, and except for the jarring ? moments when words that mean something completely different in American English pop up in unlikely places. Like when a young woman was talking about finding a “geyser” in the bathroom, I thought, WTF?

9. Have made a beautiful necklace, an original piece, and love to wear it and garner compliments for it. It is my first foray into Swarovski crystals, and I am so proud of it. Get compliments every time I wear it. Never seen anything like it. So when I went into the lobby of one of the buildings where I teach, and saw a table full of handmade jewelry, I stopped to see if any of it could give me inspiration.

Don’t worry, I am not about to pay good money for something I can make myself, unless it is too time consuming (like multiple strand seed-beads). I immediately recognized beads and findings and pendants from The Rock Barrell, but they weren’t even the best stuff from that store. Just average to sub-par things. The beads were a little ugly, the pendants imperfect, made for sale, obviously, not for the love of the art. That’s why I think I would have a hard time making jewelry for sale, because I invariably want to keep everything I make for myself, and I do not do it for the money; I do it to make beautiful things. I like to be recognized for my talent in this insignificant enterprise, and I like to wear something unique, that no one has ever worn. Hence my non-traditional wedding ring.

Anyway, I looked on as an older woman purchased a bracelet, going on to the salesladies about how pretty it was. She was paying just under $20 for that ugly thing. Damn. Ripoff, I smirked to myself. The tacky necklace I was looking at at the time, $30. A “set” next to it, and I was about to check the price, when the woman asked me if I wanted to buy it. I tried not to look too horrified at the concept, while not price-checking in front of her like a commoner. I asked if they (the 2 ladies standing there) had made the jewelry. She said yes with a flushed pride, and I felt slightly bad for her. It was ugly, y’all. UG-LEE.

She bragged that all of the items on the table were handmade (when they looked, rather, homemade) and made of only “real stones and glass beads”. Ok, yes, they are glass beads, I longed to say, but they are the bargain bin sale beads on sale around the corner from this establishment. And you’re charging WAY too much for them. Another lady came into the vicinity, and the harpies beseeched her to come buy something. Like that. Like begging. The work should speak for itself.

I was now getting pressure to buy, as if I had wasted their time for long enough. I was about to leave the table when I saw a bracelet that was slightly pretty, if not my thing, and the woman pounced on me. Would I like to buy that? I felt like I did in high school when clerks followed us teenagers around trying to keep us from shoplifting, because I did feel a bit of guilt for looking at their stuff for inspiration. Then, as if I were not finished enough with the table, the harpy said the one thing that could scare me away faster than anything she could ever have uttered. She could have said, “Oh, I think your skin would make a nice lampshade” and I would have been less fazed:

“I love your necklace!”

Shit, I hauled ass out of there.