pig moments and the accidental collection

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Well, it’s interesting that Sigmund Freud harkens the psychology of collecting with ties back to toilet training.  And in his way, he says that the loss of control and what went down the toilet was a loss we strive to get back by collecting things. Give or take a literal translation of his theory.  Continue reading

the gazebo, dandelions and the 9 o’clock rabbit

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Well, now I know that 10 x 10 doesn’t necessarily mean 10 x 10.  Looking to replace the fabric canopy top of my deck gazebo after several seasons, I find the actual replacement for the model I need on line…..to be shipped from deep in the USA….which is a moot point since it’s out of stock.  Okay, finding one that looks just like mine although  a different brand name,  I order it on-line in Canada and it’s shipped to a local distributor.

It looks like it will work, but the only way to find out is to wrestle it up and on and see.  Climbing up on my mini step-ladder onto the glass table (I know…… ) and here is where I found out that 10×10 means 9.5 and won’t squeeze, stretch or in any way fit.  That’s a lot of fabric to handle made more interesting as the wind picked up.  With  visions of showing up on the neighbour’s acreage to rescue my flying canopy top from the side of their garage, I quickly snagged the thing down, folded it up stuffed it back in the bag and took it back to the store.

Step # 3.  Just say screw it and buy a new gazebo. Frame and all.  Which I did. Thinking the new 10×10 top would fit I once again hefted it up and over the frame and tried it on the existing frame.  Big no. Now I’m going to have to build the whole thing.   It’s no wonder the frame of the original gazebo never moved.  We screwed that baby down to the deck never to move again.  I ended up taking the original frame top off with much gnashing of teeth and a few broken nails (damn!) and built the new gazebo inside the old one.  Put the top on and voila, a gazebo. If only I could package the fun that was! (Insert sarcasm here.)

The gazebo work was frustrating so mowing the lawn was to be my stress relief because I like to mow the lawn.  It’s dandelion13f41319b78c6c8366ab2c8a6e1aa2d756354b0d.jpeg time in my neck of the woods and since I live in the woods on acreage, we don’t use poison on our land; we mow the “lawn” consisting of a mixture of some real lawn grass, some weeds and of course dandelions.  This time of year the fields are yellow polka dot quilts with dandelions.  Unlike my “townie” friends who have perfectly manicured lawns of green velvet, I live through the dandelion time, into the clover time and then in a good year, green grass until the fall.

The thing about dandelions though, is that they are crafty.  Spiteful.  They hear the lawnmower coming and lay down like a stunt man flattening himself only to spring right  up after the car runs over him.  Not only do the dandelions spring back up, they wave their sunshine heads around on long lanky stems a good 3 inches above the freshly mowed stripe of lawn.

It turns me into a dandelion-mowing crazy woman as I go back and forth trying to catch them, losing sight of my quarry as they close up and tuck themselves in for the evening.  Come sunup, and HELLO! here we are again.  This is the spring-time ritual we dance through until they blow away and make way for clover to feed the bees.

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Pulling into the driveway late in the afternoon, I admire my lawn with waving yellow smiles in it and my canopy freshly topping off the gazebo.

My 9 o’clock rabbit was intent on nibbling grass on the edge of the driveway and after looking at me turned away and kept on munching. He usually shows up at 9 0’clock every night for a lawn snack (thus the name) but was out early this afternoon.  He perked up as I opened the trunk of my car bursting with bedding plants; flowers and vegetables to transform my world with the magic of garden gloves, dirty knees and the smell of fresh earth.

Heading to the porch with a flat of flowers balanced in each hand, I heard a rustle behind me and turned around to see my rabbit hopping to the car.  He stood up and in his little rabbity voice said “hey Sue, sommathatforme?”  His nose twitching, giving me a two-toothed rabbit smile.

I said “nope, do your job and eat the dandelions”.

And that was my week so far.

 

 

 

road trip with Mom – calling shotgun!….and dog hair……

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I see dogs in cars and feel a kindred spirit connection with their people.  Those of us who take our furry friends for car rides accept the fur and slobber covered windows and I’m sure many like me minimize the kennel aspect with special dog blankets, cage dividers and the like.  Continue reading

it’s me not you, and I’m leaving

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Dear Winter,

As I looked at the fresh bruises on my elbow and knee this morning from our last tussle, I made the hard decision that I want to leave. Well, not leave as in forever, but I think we should see other people, you know, take a break from each other for a while.  Continue reading

dead frog in the rental car

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Remember the creepy stories about customers taking off in their rental car and having a HUGE snake fall from under the dash where it had been hiding.  Or the HUGE snake that was curled up in the engine compartment.  Or the HUGE snake that was sleeping in the trunk?  Well, I do because that is just the creepiest thing to me.  Confirms that yes, the monsters in the closet were real, that yes, the bogeyman is out there and yes, all kinds of fearful stuff is out there waiting to get at us. Continue reading