2000-11-04
Dear Diary:

The rifle portion of hunting season opened here today which means for the next week I don't go anywhere in our yard without being covered with fluorescent orange clothing.

This is so not a good look for me. (Not that I actually HAVE a good look, eh, it's just that this makes things all that much worse.)

However, when you have armed strangers prowling about hepped up on the thought that anything that moves might be something they could shoot, you go for the orange.

I'm feeling like SUCH a cranky poopyhead today. I shouldn't be because we've had more warm weather and the snow is gone. Things are actually kind of nice around here except for the surfeit of fluorescent orangeness which encases me.

And while I'm at it, can I just say, "April Fresh, my butt"?

Thank you.

And why would I say that out of the blue? Because for the last two weeks I've had to dry our clothes in the dryer instead of out on the clothesline because it has been cool and rainy. I would like to state for the record that all that fabric softener and/or dryer sheets do is impart a chemical perfume on all the fabric goodness in your life.

Today it is actually warm and sunny enough that I can dry our sheets on the clothesline and they will smell good.

April Fresh, my butt. Hmph.

Moving right along ...

It's starting to look very roofy around here. When you're thinking of major construction marvels that span several lifetimes, I know you think of the Pyramids, The Great Wall of China and of course Marn and Paul's new roof.

The ridge cap went on while Anne was here visiting and as I type all sorts of hammering is happening just above and behind me so I know even more progress is happening.

It's just that now the spousal unit's decided to bump up the insulation up there, which means the old tin and the wood siding that supported it has to be lifted off and new insulation poured and ...

I can see now it won't be finished this year. He'll just close in the gable ends with particle board and he'll put the finish siding on next spring.

We're um negotiating ... yes, THAT'S the word, negotiating ... just what the term "finish siding" might describe. Wood? Aluminum siding? Colour? There will be further bulletins as events progress.

As if this isn't enough to sap my will to live, it's quite clear to us both that next year we will have to change the roof above the porch to match the roof over the main house. It just looks too goofy otherwise. More construction. Fine.

Even plant carcasses can be beautiful.  Aren't the seeds from my Ligularia Othello pretty?. The last heavy frost we had two days ago brought my garden to its knees and it's now officially a mass of plant carcasses.

If I was some sort of fanatic (less charitable folks would insert the words "if Marn wasn't a lazy, cranky, poopy-headed woman") I would be right out there with my shears cutting everything down all over the yard and making it tidy.

This would take days. Not gonna happen. I just leave it all to wither up over the winter and then early in the spring get out there with my rake and rake it all up. It would take me over 40 hours to cut it all off with shears each fall (been there, done that, worn the hat) and takes about six hours with a rake to clean it in the spring.

The gardening books tell you that if you take my approach your garden will be a mass of disease and sickly plants. Oh pish and tosh, I say, say I.

If you garden organically and keep improving the soil naturally, then your plants are healthy and disease isn't an issue.

(When I say I've scored some really primo shit I would be the one person on Diaryland actually talking about shit--as in composted manure of some sort--and NOT stuff you smoke, eh.)

Speaking of which, I gotta track down my manure connection, place an order for a load next spring because I've used all mine up.

Yep, I gotta get my shit together for gardening season.

A woman's work is NEVER done.

--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.