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My Profile
Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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2:43 p.m. - 2004-08-08
I would like to announce that with the exception of the lettuce and vidalias everything in today’s lunch salad came from my garden. Tomatoes, chili peppers, bell peppers, zucchini, chives, and broccoli. I am very impressed with myself. The antibiotic is working wonders. I drove twice this week. I did 17 loads of laundry. I went shopping. I haven’t broken anything. I haven’t fallen down. My house is starting to gleam again. (At least in select areas. The bedrooms are still gross.) All the houseplants are watered, fed, and trimmed. I haven’t solved the mystery of where all the teaspoons went, but otherwise the pots, linens, foodstuffs, and cleaning supplies are back where they belong. I think I have a pretty sensibly laid-out kitchen, but the man-zoo believes it’s any port in a storm and I’ve made amazing discoveries. Limes in the cereal cabinet. Lemon oil in with the spices. (Though this is sort of understandable, it was parked next to the olive and sesame oil.) The knife blocks stood empty, all the knives were in the utensil drawer. Getting a slotted spoon was like reaching into a Veg-a-matic. While it was on. All this week while I slowly put my house to rights I thought about what I was doing. What my toil accomplished. I realized it was about more than fresh towels, a clean organized house lightens everyone’s load. Even mine, though I do 99% of the work. It’s a heck of a lot easier to give everything a quick wipe and polish every few days than it was to ignore the mess until it reached the ceiling. Shoveling out a place gone to hell is exhausting. There’s pleasure in having things to hand because I put them away properly last time I used them. Tearing the house apart to find matching shoes or Wolf’s denim jacket while the bus honks outside really sours the day, you know? The guys are less grouchy too. And I’m all for that! They can navigate around pretty well when the house is tidy and aren’t all, “Mom, where’s the such-n-such?” and “Hon, do we have any…?”. Their leavings are glaringly obvious too. No backtalk from the slob in question when I request he come and pick up his pig mess. This is disgustingly satisfying. I can see they want to whine or bluster excuses like, “Doesn’t matter much in this disaster area.” I go all smug and make like that smarmy department store guy in the Bugs Bunny cartoons, “Yeeee-essss?” It’s great to feel competent. Spend too much time thinking about the ‘can’t’ in my life. I’m discovering a lot of my ‘can’t’ was really a ‘won’t’. For whatever reason (fear, laziness, spite, lack of patience) I’d decide something was beyond me and call it a ‘can’t’. This year I’ve been sicker than I’ve ever been and yet I managed one heck of a life turn-around. What is different now from all the years before? I allowed myself to try. And my! Hasn’t it paid off! Maybe I sound like a boastful goon. I don’t mean to be. I’m still sort of dazed by it all and have to keep saying it aloud to make it real. Telling it here also helps to keep me focused. This is a diary after all, and I’m talking to myself as much as anybody. I usually say something about my period just so I can track the cycles and not freak out about possible pregnancy prematurely. I’m keeping the stats on my weight here. Even the garden. Next year when it gets near planting time I’ll have a record of what I’ve tried and how it did. Part conversation, part day-planner, part scorecard, this is a multi-purpose diary. I suppose I could keep personal stats trackers like some do. So many pounds lost. So many miles walked. It would make backtracking unnecessary, but I prefer to talk about things in my own scatty way. Besides, if I didn’t talk about my weight and cleaning and gardening all I’d be left with would be politics, both federal and marital. Not good for the karma to only speak of horrors. Oh! I ordered some cool stuff at the Home Interiors party. It’ll be here in 2 weeks. I’ll enthuse about it then. Toodles! ~LA
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