Heated discussion

It seems I'm in the mood for a cool evening, seeing it's been a blazing hot day. Opening the door to let the dogs tip-toe out onto the biting hot pavement is a lot like opening an oven door and having heat hitting you in the face. Dang, that's hot!

I've shut the house up tight as a drum to keep the temperature down, though sure when my boyfriend gets home he'll insist whipping the doors and windows open.

"Air circulation" he'll say. To which I'll reply, "that's what the fans are for, darling. Really now, honestly..."

All thumbs

I did a vicious amount of planting over the weekend in my parents' new rock garden. It was nice to see my parents spending time together in the midst of their project too. An enjoyable event until I took a spill on the steps into the flower bed, lugging one of the pudgier pekes into the house. It might have been worse, had I fallen none too gently into a nearby cement urn and whacked my head to top it off, so I feel rather unscathed by the incident.

Being the domestic goddess that I am (I truly kid that), I whipped up some homemade repellent to deter the merciless mosquitoes. My Dad sung it's praises to the neighbors. Recipe for this magic elixir has been sought by the block, though I have yet to pen the ingredients. Darrel was there to offer hand and muscle which was truly appreciated ;). Our own landscape received a few welcome additions provided by the garden nursery excursions, getting supplies for the yard next door. This ended the remaining hours of my boyfriend's vacation time (his dissatisfaction with his job even more prominent).

In our own garden, the seeds sown weeks ago have emerged into tiny seedlings, barely pin-pricks of green on a dirt canvas. The initial leafy residents from a summer ago's dig seem to have taken home nicely, with little effort. The Japanese painted fern we planted the year before (presumed dead or certainly missing), has been a barren spot within our populated flower bed for months. Though we expected it hadn't made it over winter - it pushed up curly fiddle heads practically overnight. The midnight purple frond was camouflaged by the surrounding black earth With a growth spurt so sudden - I rubbed my eyes in disbelief!

The nurture and nature of summer has inspired the gardener within. With our new found green thumbs, we've been bitten by the gardening bug for sure.

In pursuit of cuteness and all it's whimsy,
I'm tempted to add an entrance
within the garden (of specific purpose)...

a fairy door,of course.

Here's some gardening humour I dug up. Enjoy!

Absent

I've felt less than grand the last couple of days. It could be due to the fact I'm not at my usual dose of meds because the local pharmacy keeps screwing up. It could be just my usual down cycle when my mood turns badly blue. I'm not sure which is the culprit. The only thing I'm certain of is that I feel messed up.

I haven't blogged in ages for a handful of reasons but I've felt rather empty without it. My fellow bloggers are some of the dearest friends I have and yet I don't even really know them. The sense of community and belonging are something I've been missing a great deal.

So I'm easing my way back into the fold, trying to write this snippet about myself. I've been up with the birds for over an hour now, mulling about life in general. Perhaps I'll sit back with my cup of coffee and do some reading...
catching up with some old friends.

All washed up

Leave it to me to take a perfectly innocent event and turn it into something horrible...

Trying to be productive I decided to do a few loads of laundry on Friday. When I went to transfer it into the dryer the next day I realized I'd made a terrible mistake. I should have been more careful,and concern myself with the detail of checking pockets diligently - but I didn't. Darrel's mobile phone took a full cycle dunk with the rest of the clothes. At least I noticed before it went in the dryer, which was somehow comforting looking unmarred and intact.

OH NO! That's all I could bloody think. It's new and he splurged on all the bells and whistles and I RUINED IT.

So I basically felt like shit the rest of the day, guilty as hell for this mishap and all the others I'd gotten myself into. Indeed, I saw myself as the plague. Maybe my Dad and so many others were right - I never seemed to do anything right. How could I deny such evidence? Such costly and foolish mistakes. All mine.

Add the fact that the his visiting Mother noticed a new condensation problem with the toilet in the bathroom where the walls are laminated to match the floor, and where the shower unit managed to warp and pull away from the wall. Remember, this is the house he would have never opted for if it weren't for me. That same house whose furnace keeps crapping out, wiring needs completely redoing, with disappointingly shoddy wood floors and awful burgundy/purple painted walls.

At least today, when the Cell seemed completely dry I summoned the nerve to turn it on. Thank God my prayers were answered! It appears to be in working order, so far as I can tell. Phew, I did let out a minor exhale! One less casualty by fault of my own. Sweet miracle it is - I am so grateful for it.

Behind closed doors

OK...
Call me crazy but I'm dreading company today. It really isn't the visitor in particular, but my just wanting to be alone. Maybe immerse myself in art. I'm too tense.

People send me into a panic. Gosh, I know it's unavoidable. I feel overwhelmed and the option to escape becomes all that matters. I'm not always like this though, and on those occasions - thank goodness for that. Once I'm at where I need to be, with whomever I should be - I'm usually fine. Why some days I feel more cornered than others is a mystery.

All I know is that this morning my heart feels like its in my throat and I physically want to back away like a scared animal... It's just plain daffy.

Total Recall

Who knew my mom was right all along?

The pet food recall only reinforces her belief. As a little girl her dogs ate real food scraps, a healthy variety of home made meals from the farm. Those were healthy dogs.

With a little bit of nutrition know-how she continued out of necessity, creating a diet for dogs with special needs. It all started when she adopted a puppy with allergies. The tradition carried on as she nursed a rescued stray with electrolyte imbalances. Caring for some problematic Pekingese of a fussy nature only furthered her reasoning.

She's been feeding the dogs home cooked meals, avoiding store bought prepared canned pet food for ages. Every dog since has lived happily and healthy. I'm a firm believer in organic options.

Personally, I've done my research and really read the labels. My pooches get the royal treatment enjoying garden veggies, chicken, barley, and fruits like blueberries in their favorite dry food. Amelie's food sensitivity led us through dozens of varieties of 'vet approved' products. The latest poison scare makes me glad I went with a more natural approach.

Some recipes to try...

Real Food for Dogs: 50 Vet-Approved Recipes to Please the Canine Gastronome

Phone calls and bowling balls

What a morning!
So much for my getting any sleep...

It all started with Amelie chaffing at the bit to go outside. Once I was up I had a hard time getting back to bed. Just as I relented and had barely dozed off... Speckles decided, by the sounds of it - to play 10 pin down the hallway! Like a bowling ball rolling - the floor rumbled like inside an alley during some 'early' morning tournament. Between each of my sleepy groans of protest - she continued to play. Then the other dog began licking whatever exposed limbs I had, as I tugged at the comforter for cover. Even my lazy handed attempts at a belly rub wouldn't satisfy her enough to let me be. Finally, when the phone rang with the usual 'wrong number' (an equally annoying occurrance lately) I gave in to my fate. Despite my hazy protest I was begrudgingly AWAKE.

I never did find the source of Speckles game (which I thought surely was some dredged-up massive bone giving her chase). So, to everyone that meets the misfortune of my contact today... forgive me for being cranky, though the reason why is no mystery. I'm just bloody tired, that's all.

PS: After trying an assortment of browsers I was finally able to make this post.
Heads up! I'll be moving to Wordpress shortly...Go figure.

Isn't she lovely?

Having just been sent some digital pictures from Amelie's last visit to 'sugar-free grandma's', I thought I'd post one to share with you.

I Long to Be...

I had those god-awful bad dreams again. I woke up so upset with myself at 6AM and didn't want to go back to sleep. I was made to feel like nothing at all, without love and powerless, thinking I'd rather be dead than feel all this again. I hate them so much. The never-ending nagging headache I've got tops it all off.

I've restarted my super list. My end-all, beat-all ultimate list of lists. I've distanced myself from my nightmare some what, so I'm pushing forward as the day wears on. When I can't concentrate or participate I need a plan to follow. Create order where I feel there is none. I guess it helps to know I'm up to something. Each check mark reminds me I accomplished a bit for the day. Each deed creates a purpose so that I might belong.

Elation and exaspiration

Creative turmoil. Having the ability without the means. The process to bring my art into fruition meets many roadblocks. Even lacking a simple table proves an obstacle. Also age feels a burden these days. If I were younger I'd have grown up in a world with better access to the tools and steps required to meet my potential. All I know is how being so naive and anxious drowned countless opportunity. I admit it all sounds a bit whiney, and it is.

Have you ever had a huge desire to learn, everything? The manic plight of being pulled into many directions, a-buzz with ideas and a laughably inexistent focus to achieve a single one? All I really need is a plan. A path to follow. But pouring myself into a dream starts that drowning feeling. Pretty soon I'm gasping for air, stranded on a desolate beach somewhere, very singular and feeling dire. Elation and exasperation. But my art is not brooding or sober to the plight of mankind. It isn't heavy so the angst this routine provides doesn't fuel my artistic fire. It's silly and playful and meant to be buoyant. Drat that sinking gravity when it pulls me under.

Heck, I'm being melodramatic and I know it. That's my nature.

Life rushes by. How do you get a handle on it?