I suspect that the way out of the funk is to start writing.
So here goes. Random things that I've been thinking about or that have been going on around here.
You may be wondering what I've been doing with all of my spare time now that school is done. Well, today I got a pedicure. Last weekend I finished reading a book on my nook--I really like writing that--book on my nook. The book was recommended by Barnes & Noble and only cost like $2, so I figured, why not? It's called, "The Gift of an Ordinary Day: A Mother's Memoir", written by Katrina Kenison. A very satisfying expenditure.
I've also started napping. Not the get up and lay on the bed nap. More of the watching playoff hockey dozing kind of nap. It seems that when you don't have homework hanging over your head, you can relax and nap for 20 minutes and still fall asleep at your normal bedtime.
Yard sailing is in full swing. Last weekend I found a lovely red crystal vase that was shaped like an open blossom, if that makes any sense. $1. Yet another excellent expenditure.
I planted the perennials Stu and Shi and the girls gave me for mothers' day, as well as several others I picked up while shopping for roundup to kill the morning glory and grass that have been trying to invade my beds. Also picked up a handful of annuals for the three pots on the deck, which all give me pleasure each time I go out back. Might be even more delightful because of the included yard art I received from Audrey and Ellie for graduation.
Found a couple of these while out planting last week.
This is not a picture of the ones I found. I thought they looked like something you'd find for sale in a market in China. Turns out I was right. They're some type of moth pupae.
Speaking of gardens, I don't know if it's just that I've been out there more this spring, or if the weather has been exceptionally good for the gardens, or what, but my gardens have been remarkable. Every day--every day!--there is something new blooming.
This is the thing I adore about perennials. They hunker down through the winter, then come spring, they show up, blooming, each in its own time, not the over-the-top splash of annuals, but more subtle, often requiring that you come close to appreciate the variety, but worth the effort, each creating a special place in my heart.
Speaking of my heart. My dad went home the day before his 87th birthday. He's up and walking, should be using the walker to steady himself, but being pretty much a punk about it all. My heart is full of gratitude for good doctors, patient nurses, capable physical therapists, and all of the other caring individuals--the janitor, the cooks, the receptionist--who helped him to heal and go home.
And there are stories about the cats and dogs and stories about the Provo house and stories about work.
But this is probably enough for now. I'll probably be back soon.
