|These tomatoes made think of eggs in a bird's nest.|
It really is getting me down. I suppose I should be ?grateful? that I only had anxiety dreams about dandelions and Steve Bannon last night. No Donald Dick or poor Kellyanne Conway haunting me.
Yesterday did not start out well. Several things might be causing my emotionality ... lability ... no ... it's more vulnerability. I didn't get hit with severe menopausal symptoms, but you never know. Allergies? A serious yoga practice after many years? Learning of the DeVos confirmation crushed me.
It was a swim day, but I didn't think I could stand being stuck in my own head in the water. I dropped off Janet at the Senior Center and had a plan to make inroads on the chaos of the house, post-party. As soon as I got back to the house, I instead set myself to gardening. From 11:30 until 4, I stopped only for water and a handful of pretzels. I redeemed my front yard patch, staked the tomatoes that had braved the winter. My hands were cut and bleeding from pulling up grass roots. But I had thyme, sage, nasturtiums, and sunflowers in place of the grass.
It is true that I left most of the clean-up to the regular gardener, but he doesn't do much besides mow the lawn and kill things. Good-bye, calla lilies! I hardly knew ye!
From there, I continued to the backyard which is a scary jungle of dandelions worthy of county fair competition. Much to my surprise, I found California poppies, several tomato plants, a lot of parsley, some sage, thyme, struggling rosemary and my rau-rau plant gamely competing for space. I was happy to see some dirt!
When I re-entered the house, my despair was in the background. I looked forward to an epsom salt bath and then dinner with KMH. That's when I saw that Sessions had been approved.
Today was worse, upon reading that Georgia Representative Jack Kingston thinks that children receiving free school lunches should be forced to clean the cafeteria and perform other janitorial services so that they learn there is "no free lunch." Because children should be good capitalists from day one.
So, my hands hurt from gardening. Even typing hurts, so I will stop.
I got nothing, no poems, no words of encouragement, even to myself. Save for a pile of poetry volumes and a Siamese cat on the bed.