Everything I Like Causes Cancer

Where we've been convinced to write a new post on Dec. 2. Stay tuned!

Saturday morning I was sitting on the back patio enjoying a cuppa joe and a smokey treat when I suddenly realized that the weather was perfect - warm and bright, without being hot or humid - and that the number of days we can expect to be similar are disappearing quickly.  A couple ringy-dingies later and I'd made a date with Leslie to ride our bikes.  We drove down to Grant's Trail and rode for over an hour, about 10 miles by our best guess.  It was a great way to spend one of the last days of summer.

We even rescued a cute little turtle who was too scared to move from his spot in the middle of the bike path because it was so busy all around him.

Somehow on Sunday I got lost in last week's season premiere shows and almost wasted another gorgeous day; thankfully Lil BRR stopped by in the afternoon and got me moving again.  As soon as she left I started some heavy-duty yard work that was hot and itchy and tiring but that I will be glad I did come spring.

Remember last May when I posted this picture of my rose trellis?

Remember how I bragged about loving it and taking such good care of it?  I might have even thought about naming it George.

Well, this is all that's left. Shortly after I took the above picture, it died. I have no idea what happened, just one day it started looking puny and before I knew it I had firewood.  Taking that sucker down was a dirty, nasty, scratchy job that made me feel like I was covered in a thousand tiny papercuts.  (A lavender bath made it all better.  No worries.)


I also dug up about ten trillion daffodil bulbs out of a three foot square area.  I'm going to replant them all over the garden so that every bed will be dotted with yellow next spring.  I'm also thinking about saving back about 3,000 of them in case I can use them as currency in the coming weeks.

"I'll trade you these seven narcissus coins for a bite of that grilled cheese."

*Since I'm so much older than you, Fal, and I don't have any kids, can I come live with you when I start to lose it?  And by "it" I mean the ability to control my bladder or to hear my own farts.

15 comments:

The Imaginary Reviewer said...

Was mentioning Narcissus bulbs and Falwless in subsequent sentences deliberate? Just askin'.

Gwen said...

IR: It wasn't deliberate but you make a good point. I'm just poking her with a stick because she called me fucking ancient yesterday. Whippersnapper.

Dr Zibbs said...

For saving the turtle, please make yourself a hero ribbon out of construction paper and wear it proudly. As for using bulbs as currency, great idea. I think I'll target really stupid people first and tell them that the bulbs are magic.

McGone said...

If you're fucking ancient, that means I'm in the neighborhood. Let's band together and pelt that young'un with prunes! Right after our afternoon naps, that is.

Kelli said...

I don't think falwless called you fucking ancient, that would be uncalled for. Ancient, yes. I was only 1 in 1978 also.

I talked to Park and he said if you pay for his cell phone, ladies, and college he would take care of you in your old age. By take care of you he means put you in a closet and keep your IV full of wine and play all that 70's music for you.

mike said...

What makes you think the turtle needed rescuing? I am pretty sure that turtles move at their own pace- slow- maybe he was just stopping to enjoy the rose trellis.

Fancy Schmancy said...

I'm so glad I have a landlord to take care of things for me. And a child who will take care of me in my old age. I'm sure he'll find me a nice nursing home, far far away from him and "that woman that stole my son from me". But who's projecting?

Eric said...

By my estimate, that whole bladder control and hearing thing should set in the around October 17, 18. Homecoming weekend, baby!

MelO said...

Your rose trellis is so BEAUTIFUL!! Good job honey!

Fucking ancient??!! What the hell is she smoking? Aren't you about to have your 30th bday?

pistols at dawn said...

There's only one thing to do to prove you're still young: hitch your pants over your navel and yell at kids to get offa your lawn.

Falwless said...

Hey I thought you wouldn't see that comment because it was, like, at the very bottom of the comments.

Oops.

Renaissance Woman said...

I hate it when plants die and there is no real reason! But your yard is so pretty. I think you deserve a day of watching t.v.

surviving myself said...

I think that turtle was really trying to kill himself because his wife doesn't let him watch sports anymore. So you really fucked up big time there.

Whiskeymarie said...

I'll trade you fourteen Geritol and a semi-living catnip plant for whatever is left of that grilled cheese, but I'm keeping my prunes. I hear they're going to be the new mutual funds.

Suze said...

I hope grilled cheese becomes the new currency. Better yet, I think we should be paid according to our weight. I'm rich I tell ya...rich!

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