“Your voice is mine. I support you 100%, whatever you decide I’ll back you.” Like doo-doo out of a newborn’s bum, my concerns relax out of me then head out in diaper bound for the landfill.
I like our neighbor and all, but a phone call discussing his plans for pulled pork, chicken, and potato salad at our upcoming community barbecue and his endorsement of the committee we formed, and his desire to contribute financially felt good.
A lot is feeling good. The annual event of pressure washing is upon us. If last year you were here, you know how I feel about that watery act of blasting shit.
I must work extra hard to rejuvenate the greened, once-slimy deck boards. Is there a winter wetness hack to keep algae at bay next season – like laying carpet or a stain that’d create a barrier? The main problem to solve is lessening how slippery the deck becomes. The best idea I found just now is non-slip decking tape.
Journey’s “Open Arms” is stuck in my head. After singing it far too loudly with dramatic arm gestures, I asked Evelyn to ask her Dad to learn it on the piano for me. And he is. For the past three days, he’s been practicing, and although it’s choppy, it is the song. So even in the silence while writing this, it plays in my mind.
Paula gifted me three plants today; an alocasia (a species I’ve been wanting!), a fern, and a yucca. With the pressure washer being a space hog, the yucca will hitch a ride home with me another day.
Am I up to 25, or is it 30 houseplants? At what number do you become the plant equivalent of a cat lady? Maybe someone should draw up a scale.
Uh oh. In searching for the number, this headline stood out, “Plant Ladies Are The New Cat Ladies.” That’s ok, I was a cat lady when being a cat lady wasn’t cool.
This reminds me of when I used to go for a walk, and my cats – Willie and Blade – would follow. They were outdoor/indoor cats, so they knew how to handle cars and dogs well. I’d call, and they’d catch up, then hide behind trees if they anticipated something. But always keeping a reasonably close distance.
I recall a few impressed neighbors at our walks, but mostly my enjoyment came from how connected they were to me and how much they trusted me.
Which leads me to a guilty confession. I brought them to where I live now, to a more country environment. After a couple of their poops on the rug in the basement, I was frustrated and kept them outside.
I need to breathe.
I’m certain they both were eaten by coyotes. And the heavy responsibility I feel for their deaths sucks. They were such cool cats, best friends the two of them were, and I wish I’d been better for them.
Well, it’s a trip to the cabin for us in the morning, and I’m most looking forward to checking the lawn for new growth. That and pressure washing.
Take care. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 