Things are improving, but I’m still unable to sit still and NOT smoke. Habits suck. Anyway, this makes blogging tricky. Plus, my mood isn’t all that great. In fact, it’s kind of mean. I’ve been on the internets (what the boys call the lining of their swimsuits) long enough to know there’s enough mean out there without me adding to it. I’m here, just mean and mobile for now. I wish you were all my neighbors so I could come paint or scrub or clean or organize for you (with your kind permission of course, I’m not a total loon). As it stands, Mike and the boys are about ready to padlock me into the treehouse.
I’m kind of bummed, I’m losing the garden war. We have had more rain in the past two weeks than we normally get in two months (and we normally get a LOT of rain this time of year). The zucchinis wimped out first. All the purty baby zucchinis rotted away. I ripped the plants out yesterday afternoon, after I apologized to the plants for being mean and telling them it was their own damn fault for getting stinky. I think I salvaged the cucumbers and some of the peppers. Ugh . . .
I have a bunch of tomatoes here – what’s your favorite thing to do with fresh, ripe tomatoes? I don’t have enough for a sauce, I’m thinking bruschetta (sp?) with dinner tomorrow.
Aside from the being restless with not smoking, I’m kind of freaked out about my upcoming birthday. I’ll be 45 on the 16th. I’m ok with being 45, but somehow, I thought I would have done more in all of those years. Let’s face it, 45 is not, for most of us (particularly the ex-smoker), middle aged, it’s the beginning of not-middle-aged. I expected more from myself by this age and I’ve let myself down. I guess now I need a new plan. It’s hard to know where to start, though. Who has the blueprints?
Anyway, I’m still here, just not feeling terribly fun or funny, though I will again, I’m sure.