2001-05-19
Dear Diary:

����Omigosh, where oh where is the time going? We're over halfway through National Masturbation Month already!

����I hope you've .:cough:. taken matters into hand .:cough:. and been observing this holiday religiously, eh.

����Yep, it's been a busy month. I've certainly had MY hands full.

The rain makes such a difference, it's as if a fairy cast a make everything green spell over my yard.����We've finally gotten the rain we need, so the garden is exploding. It felt as if I could almost hear things growing, the change overnight was so incredible. When I hobbled out the front door this morning (I sprained my ankle on Friday--basically did it just walking up the steps to the post office, which again adds sheen to my title of Clumsiest Woman on the Planet), I just paused and soaked it all in.

����The epimedium has pulled it's chameleon act, the reason I adore this plant from Japan. Now that it's waxy pink and white star flowers have finished, it's transformed its leaves to red edged hearts. This will last a few weeks and then it will change to a simple dark emerald green and blend into the background.

The epimedium in its glory.  It's sure a long way from its native land, Japan, huh?����But late in the spring, when the garden is in that quiet transition from the flowering bulbs to the early summer perennials, the epimedium does this wonderful "Ta DAH" that makes me grin big time.

����That grin got quickly wiped off my face when I got to my pond.

����Brace yourselves.

����It may be wise to sit down. Those of you who have smelling salts, may want to get them.

����Are you ready?

����Okay.

����*Insert theme from "Jaws" here.*

The dreaded crocofrog, only slightly smaller than a dinner plate.����My pond has been invaded by crocofrogs.

����Sure, to you they may just look like insanely oversized bullfrogs, the Incredible Hulks of the frog world, but I'm convinced these guys are man eaters. The spousal unit tried to catch one so I could give you a sense of the size of these monsters, but they were too wiley.

����So far I've spotted four.

����There may be more.

����This definitely puts a damper on my summer swimming plans, although I may be able to parlay this into a new career.

����Let's see, Oz has The Crocodile Hunter

����Maybe I could become The Crocofrog Hunter, eh.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.