The Hamster at the Wheel

When I was in the third grade, my best friend had a psychotic hamster named Tribble. When he wasn't biting us for trying to cuddle him, he would fill the house with the endless rhythm - squeak squeak squeak squeak - of his exercise wheel. I never understood why he did this, since running in place, always running but never going anywhere, seemed downright dense to all of us. Now, of course, we know the value of cardiovascular training, and it did give that sharp-toothed rat turbocharged speed on the three occasions he escaped his proto-Habitrail. (Third time was not the charm, by the way - he made it into the garage, but the neighbor's cat found him before my friend did. After the news spread, the other neighbor - the one nearer the cage - brought flowers and a nice, quiet snake to replace him.)

Point is, I'm starting to get it, the whole work without obvious results thing. For the last ten years, I've been such a perfectionist that if I couldn't get it right the first time, I wouldn't do it at all. I thought that was smart (smarter than the bumps and bruises I'd gotten in the years before). But what happened instead was ... nothing. Nothing at all. I didn't try new things, take any risks, or make much progress. It was safe, but it was stupid. Now, not only am I beginning to understand the toothy little bloodsucker - I think I want to be him when I grow up. Because though his spirit was more kamikaze than cockroach (survivor), at least he tried.

Did you notice how full April and May were? Supernovas, poltergeist expulsions, and gardening filled my physical and emotional dance card. I paid off my car, opened an IRA, and sent more money to debts in two months than I had in the last two years - plus set other wheels in motion to pay off the mortgage faster and earn more down the road. And I entered more contests and found more pretty things than I had in ... well, ever. Progress, not obvious. Trying, definitely.

One more what-the-heck leap (deep breath) - I took photos. In general, I'm a pretty lousy shot. Digital cameras usually magnify this anti-talent by glitching, ghosting, and running off the camera completely. Plus, they don't always want to bloom where I plant them on these posts but I can't show you what I've done without a picture or two, right?



On my screen, these would be labeled "bad," "better," and "best" (trust me, that's best). If they're out of order or flying around the page, blame my Kodak karma - it's pretty obvious which is which.

This is what I did in the front bit (and one side):



If the rosemary does as rosemary tends to do, that hole will be covered in two months, and the tarragon, oregano, basil, sage, thyme and cilantro will keep me in the kitchen all summer. The Big Lug will be pleased. (A storm washed some mulch away on the third pic, but that side is much better, too.)

We still have a long way to go for curb appeal overall ...



... but it's a start - and a few steps on the long march toward earning the equity boost we need. (Squeak, squeak.)

Finding it is more fun for me, as you know - and the weekend was good for that, too. Check out the sparkly things!



Sterling silver, mostly, plus several gold pieces I forgot I had - and what isn't silver or gold is costume, but signed. I'm getting all of the May finds together for a reunion tour - in between ravaging the bedrooms and basement for yard sale items (pictures soon)! When I have the shots, I'll bite the bullet and put them here.

Please note the evolving page, as well. I'm working on the cast of all the characters (my friends aren't up there yet) - and their code names, so the Big Lug won't figure it out even if he ever finds this place (unless, of course, he happens to recognize his own front yard - yeah, I got that). Plus, I've found some amazing web sites that I want to share! And I'm working on putting up what I'm reading (both to learn and to unwind) as well as watching (ditto).

It's a slow process. Computer gremlins don't behave for me. And no matter how I hard I run, I feel as if I'm still standing here with cedar shavings on my whiskers. But I know that even if it's one step forward and two back, I'm getting farther this year than I have in the last ten. All it takes is letting the hamster drive awhile.

Tribble would be pleased.

And then he'd bite me.