Blogging, Children, Crafting, Friends, Truth, Victory!, work, Yarden

My Everyday Fairytale

For as much as I bitch and whine… I have a beautiful life.

Anything can be better, but when faced with the reality of my day to day existence… I smile.

I miss my son like I’d miss air if I were drowning. I’ve learned to compartmentalize it because there’s simply nothing else I can do. I miss him, I love him, and I respect his teenagehood. I hated my mother when I was his age. I love her now. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

It’s my day off today, and I woke up late from a divinely delicious dream. I woke up smiling, which I do 90% of the time. Either at my darling girl or at the day facing me. I love my job, I love my coworkers and my tomatoes started to sprout yesterday.

I woke up to a call from my darling Miss Harley which turned into a stomach-aching giggle-fest. Laughing over boys and how silly they are. Laughing at ourselves while we’re at it.

I decided to make myself a latte and sit in the greenhouse with the stack of pages I’ve written so far, and realizing for the first time that it’s not hard to read about my trip to Puerto Rico anymore. I was batshit crazy in love with him, and it was delightful. I don’t regret it or begrudge myself the guilty pleasure.

It was bubblegum ice cream delicious. I’m at my best when I’m in love. You can’t help but have a good day around me when I’m infatuated- it’s a contact high, to put it mildly. I bake cupcakes, I sew cool shit, I knit a blue streak… I garden. I am happiest when I’m in super girlfriend mode. It’s ridiculously codependent, but it’s true.

I’ve kicked my bad habit, sigh… I’ve waved goodbye to Flintstone and I haven’t really checked my internet dating email since one of my best friend’s ex-husbands emailed me to proposition me. I feel a little dirty making fun of someone for my own entertainment. Even if it is incredibly easy. … …. and fun. Chances are good I’m going to do it again. Purely to avoid fully embracing my role as the cat lady in the neighborhood.

I rolled over to a love note from my little red… with a Reese’s peanut butter cup. My favorite…. and how can any day be anything less than perfect when you start it with peanut butter and chocolate. Seriously.

It’s sunny and bright and I have broccoli to plant and a whole day to get a tan. I throw my bathrobe over the speaker and get to planting… in black panties and garden gloves. Welcome to the beauty of single womanhood. I can plant to my favorite music, in my panties with a mimosa and my shiny purple nitrile gloves the Easter Bunny brought me. Life is beautiful.

Randomly deciding to take thai food to school and have lunch with my daughter- a treat for myself and her… and we both are addicted to the red curry. Giggling with her and her friends over the boys being so weird <and resisting the urge to tell them nothing changes in 20 years… this day is perfect with a side of laughter. One of her friends asks me if I’m her sister, lol… we laughed all the way down the hall and I kissed her cute face on a day I ordinarily wouldn’t see her. AMEN.

Oh and just when things are going swimmingly…

A bad habit sighting… and regardless of the horrible way he treats me… I swallow hard when I’m not expecting to see him. They should make a patch to shake a bad man habit… Trans-dermal crack? I don’t know… I hate being betrayed by my body, and that’s what he inspires. I hate it. I’m craving him, I hate that I have to admit it, but it’s true. Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I bolted, drove home and changed into garden gear. Facing the music in the overgrown garden that is the penance I so deserve after abandoning it last summer…well… SUCKS. I’m covering it with landscape cloth to burn off the weeds before I plant. My asparagus is coming up 🙂

The worms are 15″ long at least and things are looking like a beautiful year for a beautiful garden. I’m really truly centered and happy in my giant ridiculously overwhelmingly massive garden. It’s round. It’s beautiful. It’s me. Spending my off time with my feet in the dirt makes me a million times happier than spending them in a bar or on a date.

I poured myself a cocktail, took the price tag off my new wheelbarrow that my mama gave me as an Easter basket… and went out to face the music. Oy…

But… even the worst challenge in the garden beats the worst date. It makes me feel better, carves my body into summer hot and makes me smile to my toes.

I have fingerling potatoes planted… Rose Finn Apple and Russian Banana… with more on the way. I planted my French shallots.

I broke in my new garden gloves and broke out of my winter funk. I’m happy. Really, really happy.

I’ve been through hell, and I’ve proven that I should not be the one to choose who I’ll date- so it’s up to my friends from now on. I’m not picking again. I have horrible judgment and horrible taste. I’d rather take a year long sabbatical from men entirely, if given the option.

My seeds are sprouting. My garden is on it’s way. I found 2 newts in the cardboard pile today. I’m so delighted with the simple details that surround me that I don’t feel lonely. I watched a dozen stupid movies this week and slept like a baby. I made the perfect mustache cake. I was a mom hero for the birthday party. My darling MSOK made us all look like a million dollars in big hair, which I’ve found I love.

Life is good… and even without a Prince? It’s a pretty sweet fairytale in and of itself.

Truth, Whine/Rant, work

The solution to cheating… and the first of many internet dates to come…

Castration!

I’m only half joking, and they’re lucky that impotence is a side effect of castration, otherwise it’d be common practice by now.

As I was picking the little monster Tucker Max from the vet this afternoon, he stopped me to talk to me about the procedure. I assured him I knew what we were in for, etc.

D- Don’t worry though- he’ll be more loyal, more affectionate and sweet without all the bad behaviors. He wont be running off to the neighbors yard, he’ll stay home.

It’s all I can do not to laugh.

D- He’ll be a much better companion after he’s neutered.

and I lose it finally… dissolving into a fit of giggles.

J- And why don’t we do this to men?

He blushes…

D- It renders them… uh… unable.

J- Oh. Yikes.

I looked down at little Tucker and he glared at me.

I drove him home as he looked everywhere but at me. He’s seriously pissed off at me…. and rightfully so.

It poses quite the option…. To castrate him, or not to castrate him….

You can have the perfect husband, who is loyal and loving and wonderful… and never have sex again…

Or you can have a ruthless cheater of a husband who blows your mind…

Maybe just take one off? lol… Lance Armstrong didn’t have any trouble knocking up his girlfriend with his one testicle.

Because we all want that middle of the line guy. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to care about who he is- and be actively participating in being a valuable member of society. Freeloading couch-surfers went out with bead curtains, and not to give my secrets away… but a man can stun me speechless simply by tying his tie in front of me.

Lord. Have. Mercy. Whoa….

So I had a lunch date after work tonight… my first of a dozen internet dates lined up… for your entertainment (and my boredom) .

I had to rush the dog home from the vets office and fly to my date so I’m sure I still smell like a french fry… I contemplate being late and going back for perfume, but figure it’s the first of many strange dates I’ve got planned. I’m getting back to my roots… I’m hand picking the crazies, don’t worry about perfume.

Judge away… lol… it’s fun and I’m in no frame of mind to meet anyone new. This is like speed dating… only longer.

I’m meeting him for a sandwich, and a walk maybe <absolutely not, it’s cold and windy… but I’ll burn that bridge when we get there>.

I get there first <YES!> and sit facing the door, always assuming I’m not going to recognize them… and I always do, even if the pictures I’d been sent were clearly from years earlier. He walks in ten minutes later, and I’m immediately aware who he is. He smiles. Eeek. I’m a teeth girl. A sucker for a pretty smile- and he’s missing a few. Not in the front or anything… but ya know…

At any rate, he’s tall, thin & sporting a short curly sort of Amish/Quaker beard.

Rule #1 of mine… Thou shalt not have facial hair. I delight in watching a man shave. Damn… The only thing sexier than a man with shaving cream on his cheeks, is the resulting silky-soft man face… sigh. Sparkly eyes rimmed in fluffy white shaving cream. It can only be better if he doesn’t stop with his face and shaves his whole head.

My date sits down at the table and smiles at me. Let’s call him Cody.Cody is clearly not 35. Cody is lucky if he’s 45.

C- You don’t look 35…

J- Neither do you.

C- I hear that a lot.

.. … ….. … .. …. …. Incidentally I have nothing to say to that and I’m not being that too nice girl anymore so I’m letting his words hang in the air.

C- Ok… ha ha haaahh hhhaa I’m 42.

J- Oh good… well I’m 27 and my dad would be really mad if I dated anybody 42, sorry.

We sat and ate in silence and then he laughed and said..

C- I’m really 35, he’d be ok with that, right?

J- I’m 35, and I’m really just not interested.

C- That’s cool. It’s nice to hear the truth instead of some sick kid or shit like that.

J- Try being honest. Don’t lie about your age. Don’t lie, period and she wont have to lie back to you.

C- If you don’t lie, nobody will go out with you.

J- If you lie, they’ll only go out with you once.

We’re both right in some ways…. and we’re both wrong in so many ways too.

I’ve dated liars way more than once.

lol…

Way more than the honest guys, if I’m going to be honest as well.

C- So you wanna go out again?

J- No, Cody… I don’t. No offense.

C- Friends?

J- Absolutely. Thanks for this- it was oddly refreshing.

And I’m out…

Different sort of date and we never even touched on the crazy reason I picked him. He runs a Christian Youth Ministry that travels the world to cram Jesus down the Native’s throats.

The date was odd enough all by itself that we never even got to the point of unrolling the freak flags.

I’m putting my coat on when he walks out by the door and offers to walk me to my car. Instant bad feeling and I decline <I’ve learned to listen to that instinct, first & foremost.> He sees my tattoo on my foot and compliments me, then asks me to take my shoe off so he can see the whole thing. I slip my foot out of my shoe and he smiles at me.

C- Nice toes.

Creepy. See? Bad feelings don’t lie. He offers to drive me to my car and I decline, knowing he has to go one way away from where I am and I’ll be in and gone before he can follow me. Creepy, right? This is the feeling this guy inspires.

One more for the record books…

Internet dating is nothing short of earning your wings in heaven…

Honestly though? I think I’d rather pay for sex than suffer through all this nonsense.

Canning, Farming, Food, work, Yarden

Tomato Hoarder

Seriously. My ego has gotten me in more trouble than I can shake a stick at. One of the last arguments with the dirty boat stealing asshole went something like this:

DBSA- What do you think you’re going to do? You’ll never be able to do it without me.

J- Hmm. You don’t think so, huh? Watch me.

Unfortunately we were talking about the garden. I expanded it, tilled all the rows in and remade/reshaped the entire thing. Fuck that guy, not only would I do it bigger, and completely erase anything he’d done in my garden- I’d do it alone.

I really showed him. Ugh. I was a slave to the damn garden all summer and now the fall fun has only just begun… I have thousands of tomatoes yet to ripen. I’m not exaggerating either. Literally thousands. 180 very healthy plants.

It’s a bit epic- to be completely honest…and a bit of an eye opener. I’ll never do it again. It’s just a ridiculous amount of garden…hell… it’s why we call it the Yarden. With a week of hot weather, and Th, Fr & Sat off- I’m going to be a canning slave. Marinara, salsa, pickled beets, more jam, pears, etc….

I’ve learned my lesson. I admit to being a tomato hoarder and I will never do it again.

I hope.

🙂

Farming, Pets, work

Chicken Tractors

I want one! Here is the design I’m planning to build:

Deluxe Chicken TractorCourtesy of the Deliberate Agrarian my favorite design so far.

With the ability to grow 40 meat chickens in one, and 30 or so egg layers in another possibly larger chicken tractor, I’ll be able to add eggs to our CSA baskets this year and eat homegrown organic chicken all year. Yum.

The biggest benefit (IMO) of the chicken tractor, is not having to shovel the chicken manure out of the chicken coop, with the added bonus of having the ability to offer your little feathered friends all the fresh green grass & bugs they could possibly want or need.  The chickens weed and cultivate while fertilizing the soil they’re on, and with the ease of moving them to fresh grass, they’re a veritible fertilizing factory on wheels 🙂

I can hardly wait for the snow to melt!

***See the latest issue of Mother Earth News for more information on the almight chicken tractor!