All's Quiet ... Again

Things just keep toe-tapping along, don't they? Our drought is now officially over (after last night's series of bucketload-dropping t-storms, ya think?), so the reservoirs are back up. The markets are up, also - to their beginning-of-the-year levels, not their 2008 levels (alas) but I'll take it. I still have a chunk of mostly-grass to strip on one side of the house, a trellis to erect on the other (for the snow peas), and not enough time to do it all today (even without the mud), but I did get the lawn mowed in the brief lull between systems yesterday afternoon so at least we won't face the jungles our neighbors currently have. (The Big Lug kissed me heartily for my work - worth every marsh-wrestling moment!) And though I missed a pretty, four-dollar tiny-bead jade necklace (interspersed with emerald- and diamond-studded circlets, no less) I found two very pleasing silver pieces that I wore all day with one of my new shirts. Oh yeah, and my Costco is selling $50 in Godiva gift cards for $20 until May 10th. (Guess where I went on Tuesday? My underwear drawer is stuffed full of emergency rations - at 60% off!) It's been a good week.

One foot in front of the other ... breathe, smile ... one foot in front of the other ... pace it off and walk it out ...

Life is not exciting just now but that's okay - I'm fine with the contentment package for awhile. Wild rides, and their inevitable road rash, will happen soon enough - they always do around me. I can wait awhile.

No Drought

During April, my (paid) work load was exceptionally light, my hunting was exceptionally unproductive, and the proverbial showers were exceptionally absent. Things have changed.

I taught 9 am to 9:30 pm yesterday - not solid, of course, but for 10 hours in the 12 1/2. This will be my Sundays for awhile, along with one evening class this week and two every week after that. At least 9 weekly hours of tutorials have materialized, too, so no more half-checks (yay!).

I missed the fossil-hunting trip due to illness (more on that later), but I guess I was supposed to be here because I found several nice pieces at yard sales on Saturday - two silver rings (one a carnelian, one a beautifully carved agate cameo originally bought in Pompeii), seven sweet pairs of earrings (a heavy silver & gold half-circle - turned out to be Tiffany & Co! - and a sterling & peridot full loop were the best deals), and one super-cute bracelet of gold hearts (14K, weighs about 9 g). Total spent - $26. I've so missed these amazing bargains!

Speaking of which, Friday I bought clothes. I grabbed my usual size, tried a couple of things on, and realized they were too big - so I slipped into a 12 for the first time since I was a teenager. And the clerk had coupons that saved me $25 on the (smaller, ha!) skirt, slacks, blouses, t-shirts and shoes - which, by the way, were all on sale, too. The Big Lug dressed up to match my new look, took my to dinner at a posh restaurant (birthday, remember?), and pampered me all over the place. Despite a do-I-have-the-hybrid-virus scare (not), it was a very good day.

I am kicking myself a bit, though - I didn't finish the sod-stripping on Thursday, didn't get back to it on Friday or Saturday, and since we're currently caught in the escalator-like trough that's carrying storm after storm through our area I'm watching all my hard work starting to blow up. By the time all's said and done, I'll have twice the "grass" to deal with than I had when I started.

But it's okay - May's overabundance of all things (even the bad) sure beats April's whole lot of holding-pattern make-work. Now if we can just get rid of this rain ...

What If ...

... terrorists discovered how to train squirrels to lie down (simultaneously) across the leads on every transformer on every pole in every part of the country? Would we be incapacited by panic, grossness, or laughter first?

... the talking heads on CNBC actually agreed with each other, just once? Would that qualify as a sign of the Apocalypse?

... no one ever took an entire, long, rainy day just to lie in the arms of the one she loves most? Wouldn't that be the worst world, ever?

... 50 really is the new 40? Would that mean I'd have to restart menopause?

Good God, I hope not.

Laugh more today, dream more today, love more today - for tomorrow you, too, might qualify for age-related discounts with motels, restaurants, and plastic surgeons all over the world.

The Week, So Far

It began with a bang.

Well, more of a "whump." Sunday morning, the first day, the sun was barely up and the Big Lug and I were dozing in and out of sleep. Suddenly, that sound jerked us into reality. "Was that what I think it was?" he asked, quite clearly. Around here, at least after 9/11, if you even hear an overloaded truck rumble on the breeze you stop and listen for a moment. "Uh-huh," I mumbled, "but the fan stopped, too, and - " I lifted my head, squinted at my alarm clock's blank face, dropped back to the pillow, " - no power. Transformer blew."

It was on the street, and our window was open because it's been so hot. It was zapped once before, but during a thunderstorm, not a clear sky. We both knew that, but he got it first and (just in case) looked at the sky - for clouds, for smoke, for a mushroom-shaped ... nah, that's my job. Anyway, he saw nothing that would have caused a problem. "I'll look for seepage," I heard him say as he grabbed his bathrobe. The basement sometimes leaks long after storms (which we'd had Saturday) have passed, and if we had water we'd need to hook up the generator to the new power-thingie that we had put in for just such an eventuality. "And I'll check the outside of the new panel," I said - or think I said, since I was still half-asleep. "Maybe it shorted out." They hadn't actually put in the new meter yet, and it's still a mishmash of old and new power cable.

Nothing, no problems. I called the electric company, reported the outage and the explosion, and got dressed. There was no way I was hanging around if I couldn't make coffee. I was going to Starbucks. While I was struggling into a T-shirt (it was still hot), the Big Lug got a call and described the incident to a repair guy. I left.

Twenty minutes later, as I was sipping the nectar of the gods, he called my cell. "Squirrel," he said in a slightly strangled voice.

"Nuts," I returned, baffled by this word game.

"No, honey, a squirrel. Stretched out on both leads. Not much left now but a powdery - "

"Ew," I said.

"Uh-huh," he said, "we were awakened by an exploding squirrel."

The company man changed the transformer equivalent of a fuse (involving silicone cable and some kind of "tongue" lever or switch - the Big Lug was describing the procedure in gleeful detail, but I couldn't picture it) and, after moving seamlessly from the fearful to the ridiculous, everything was back to normal.

"Normal," of course, being relative. I am, apparently, once again the center knot in a (student's) parental tug-of-war. You'd be surprised how often that happens - teachers and care providers are cannon fodder in any ongoing war of ex's. Usually, it's a divorced husband and wife - one who paid, and one who didn't - but this time it's a stepmom and a mom. I spoke to both of them, without knowing I was supposed to only talk to the step. Now I have a password that I must ask for before I give any information to anyone, and under no circumstances am I supposed to talk to the mother at all.

Exploding squirrels give you perspective. I chose absurdity.

Good thing, too, because I was digging up more "sod" this morning, and, after a needed and earned break, came out to find this:



Flamingoes. One of the Lug's sisters sent flamingoes. Today is halfway between our birthdays, which, I suppose, is the perfect time to send it, if there's ever a perfect time for flamingoes. Very attention-grabbing, for sure - I was outside stripping sod until the 90-degree mark hit, and every person who passed, in cars or with their dogs, slowed to look, even wave and honk. Amazing what a flocking bunch of flamingoes can do, isn't it?

There was a single, sublime moment, too - I saw a rose-breasted grosbeak at my feeder as I was formatting the type here. I've never seen one in real life before. On my 40th, Mama Angel sent me an indigo bunting, and now I did the same thing I did then, just grinned and grinned and ... yeah, I'm a geek. But what a way to wind down this bizarro beginning-of-the-week.

So next comes a long, cool shower and a couple of tutorial students, then a good book and a snuggle with the Big Lug. At least, that's the agenda. Gotta tell you, though, if there's something waiting that can top flamingoes, grosbeaks, knotty ropes, and exploding squirrels, I won't mind a hiccup in the plan - as long as I can treasure it, too.

Writing It

I've been a little whiny lately. (No, really?) I don't know why, and I don't excuse it, but I'm not going to do it any more. Acid Trip told me a few weeks ago that if I don't have anything to say I should say nothing. I have plenty to say - mostly more of the same, which, since I refuse to give into the snivelly side, means this will be a short, news-oriented post.

And it's good, actually. More work this week, more work coming - I'm giving up a couple of Saturdays but it's worth it. I've had enough of the half-checks. I can't eat yard sale finds. I thank Heaven I have a job in which I can increase the hours at will (at least some).

And I don't want to jinx anything, but Head Trip has been approved for the apartment she really wants - bigger than many, and a bit over her head but with a second (at-home) job she can swing it. We're going to check it out together tomorrow - she's seen a similar one, in a different building, and she wants my opinion on the actual place. I'm so proud of her for not only finding her path but being willing to walk it.

The yard is progressing apace - slowly, of course, because of the lack of discretionary funds to blow on it, but piece by piece, bit by bit, I'm not only clearing the beds in front of the house, I'm dumping the dirt and scraggly stuff into the ditches, filling them up like crazy. Rain for the past few days proved it not only won't die but it's a pretty lush green, which is all the Big Lug cares about. (Weeds can be killed next year, right?)

Oh, and I broke into my piggybank to buy a wheelbarrow to replace the one I broke over the weekend. It took an hour to put together today. I haven't used it yet. Cross your fingers.

That's pretty much it. I've been reminded this week that life is mostly about putting one foot in front of the other, about holding onto my inner smile with both hands, and about focusing on and having faith in your goal - because it doesn't matter how much you fight it, worry about it, whine about it, or write about it, everything will work out how it must.

And mostly, that means something wonderful.

Eventually.