Another Year-2019

A New Year-2019



Another year has begun.

How is it possible that all good intentions to ramp up my blogging have fallen by the wayside?

Surely my life had some sort of insightful event to share. I clearly recall that 2018 stopped being fun after the March wedding of our youngest.

I can relate that the year was one for "NuNee"....my joint replacement surgery which places me into a whole new category of growing old. . . and a plethora of incidents I am not ready to remember in writing yet.

 We lost of two dear friends unexpectedly, may they rest in peace, and know how loved they are and know what an impact they made on our lives.

We added to our family of fur babies. June the menace has become a feline fixture with an attitude, keeping me alert and ready for the next crash of shelving or fine china. (Dismantling Christmas is her forte').

I had to pretend I was glad when one of my besties retired, packed up their entire family and moved across the country. Yes, it was perfect for them, but selfishly, not so much for me . I pathetically drive by their home every month, hoping its not true. This scenario is a repeat of 2016, so I know I will overcome this abandonment and become happy for them too. It does provide a good vacation destination having friends living in great locations!

We welcomed 3 new babies into our circle of friends,  jealous that none of them belonged to Mr. Man or myself and we were becoming an island in our peer group being the only ones with no grandchildren and having no children or family any where close to where we call home. wah! wah! wah!  

2018 ended with general illness and malaise, and I had little remorse that it was ending in a stifled spit of flame. Yes, I am grateful I lived through it and blessed beyond belief, but in the grand scope of remembered years, it generally was more sucky than not. I'm just being honest.

Ringing in 2019 was a general relief. Its looking up already.

I won't bore you with half hearted resolutions that never materialize or realized. They're pretty much the same every year since I was introduced to what a resolution was. . .back in 1970!

Mr. Man and I are not party animals, but we got our party on and rang it in without even going outdoors or setting off any illegal fireworks or blowing whistles.  A few of our friends joined us to see the New Year begin; they too experienced a disheartening 2018 and had trepidations about 2019 and what it will bring. Fear of the unknown you might say. Shell shocked from recent family disasters and multiple disappointments pretty much described the lot of us.

 I am a faith driven individual and believe my path is predestined and to follow it with trust and reassurance that all will be right in the end. With that said, you may wonder why I worry at all, but it can't be helped-worrying is what I do and trying to be prepared for any unforeseen incident.

 As we become more vested in 2019, I'm gaining my rhythm on how to cope with change-which seems to be occurring at an alarming rate already! Good news has graced us daily. We have plans to travel and vacation in exotic locations. I'm getting a passport!

 We were fortunate to have spent quality time with both of our children on their turf and plan to repeat the experience again before too long.

The days are flowing by quickly. I haven't even miswritten the year or forgotten what day of the week it is. The end of January is looming and I've already decorated for February and the month of LOVE.

 

Whatever 2019 has in store for me, I am ready. There is absolutely no other choice. Conquering the year and ending it on a positive is my prime objective.

Lets DO THIS!!

You are summoned- Jury Duty

In this fine county in southern California, Jury Duty is required of any eligible citizen with a legal residency status , a drivers license, and/or registered to vote.
You are not expected to serve jury duty unless its been a year and a day since your last summons.
On that note, receiving the summons for jury duty was received with anything resembling fanfare, joy or applause.  In this day and age when REAL mail is rare- card, letter, gift certificate, free coupons- receiving an envelope with your name spelled correctly can cause the heart to flutter with joy.


Checking the mailbox at the curb, my heart did that little jump at the envelope appearing to be "REAL" mail. As I removed the envelope, and seeing the return address as the Riverside Superior Court, I heard an inner scream to leave the summons there and hope it got returned to the post office the next day! Grudgingly, I brought the envelope in. It sat on my kitchen counter for days before I even opened it. Nothing but bad news occupies that envelope! Through the plastic window of the envelope I can see the large words JURY SUMMONS.  Didn't I just serve on jury duty a few months ago? I remember that day vividly. How can it be my turn again? My last name begins with a  Z. Shouldn't I be chosen last??? I am for everything else!
Before opening the summons, I double check the dates of  my last jury service. Sure as I live and breathe, its been 18 months. Darn it! I tried to decipher what the dates of the summons were before opening it. Screams and cries of NOOOOO echoed in my head. There was nothing for it but to dive in and read the dang thing. I can't ignore it. I would be one of the prosecuted summoms evaders for sure. My luck runs that way.


First thing I verify is the dates. Yes, I am free those dates. DANG IT!!
I read the 8 reasons to be excused from Jury Duty. No to all of those. I'm able bodied and mentally stable. Though many people would beg otherwise, I'm qualified.  I can't lie. I'm stuck.
Marking the date on my calendar in blood red with skull and cross bones, I admit, I'm bitter. My free time is valuable to me. I do not like to drive on the freeway in traffic and search for legal parking around the court house. The whole judicial process is as slow as molasses, and inefficient with time management.


The day arrives. I haven't slept all night . I am stressed out. Certainly that will be obvious enough to excuse me from the court room. Who wants a sweaty old woman serving on their jury?
I need to add that I get called to Jury Duty every 18 months to 2 years ad I have been on a jury many times. Shouldn't that be a reason to drop my name from the Jury Pool list? I'm used up and tainted. I have friends who have NEVER been summoned for jury duty, even though they would enjoy the experience and have been licensed drivers and voters for decades! Tempted to send a list with their names and addresses to the County Clerk for future summons if they could drop mine.
I do believe in a fair trial, innocent until proven guilty and due process of the law. A jury of peers to hear your case is promised. Well, trust me, I have yet to serve on a jury and consider myself the defendants "peer".  My peer group are upstanding , law abiding citizens who do not rape and pillage innocent people, sell drugs or rob banks, assault people with vehicles , or stab their friend the gangster in the name of their "hood".  Perhaps because I live in a questionable "Hood" this makes me a peer ?
Waiting in the line to enter the courthouse at 7:30 a.m., its a somber day out, drizzling and cold and here I am with no sweater and no umbrella.
The long list of prohibited items was posted clearly long before the line got to the front doors. Listed was the obvious. . . firearms, blades, sharp pokey objects, sprays. Also on this list is liquids and food. It was the TSA list of no-no's.
A woman leaving the building asks the line to  excuse her as she cuts through it and heads for the planter by the building to retrieve her bottle of "perfume" and lip gloss. This causes a stir with the ladies surrounding me who are horrified that their makeup may be considered contraband or an illegal court substance. They begin to raise their objections to be heard by the sheriff guarding the doors in between gulping down their oversized Lattes and cylinders of green tea. They are most vocal about being forced to stand outside and suffer in the 60 degree weather, which is ruining their hair. (perhaps they could have found a can of hairspray in the bushes hidden amongst the discarded lighters, pocket knives and fingernail clippers. )


I kept to myself throughout the entire day. The only words I uttered were "Here" twice. I was called to  report to a jury room, only to be dismissed at the last minute. You didn't have to tell me twice that my service was over for a year.  Relief and overwhelming joy at this new good fortune. See Lori run. Run Lori Run! Home before the traffic , home in time to start dinner and home without worrying over the fate of some unfortunate individual who made poor choices in life, leaving chaos in their wake for their victims and feel they shouldn't be forced to pay for their mistakes. 


I've done my civic duty.
Hoping I am done for at least 2 years for next go around.
I'm doing my best to stay out of trouble with the law!

Wedding survival- Round one and two

Congratulations to my husband and I!

When we started our family, we knew we had some milestones to celebrate in the decades to come.

First birthday parties, music recitals,  High school graduations, college graduations, empty nest. Raising a family in these days has become a navigational nightmare. You push the children to succeed, be independent and start their own families, all the while desiring them to stay put, never move further than a half day drive, be financially stable, and always want to spend time with their mom and dad over their own friends.

We have survived the marriage of both our daughters, less than 6 months apart.

Waiting and waiting and waiting years for at least one of them to commit and get married, and they both decide to do it months apart. At least it was in two different years!

During the planning months for the weddings,  I never expected the children  to do anything traditional or impulsive, and I have tried very hard not to badger them into something they weren't ready for.  Marriage is a serious partnership . The person you marry is about to become your closest next of kin and family. (here's the prod to start producing grandchildren for us my girls).

Each daughter has her own opinion as to what marriage is to them. They also had their own vision about what kind of wedding they wanted. The men in their lives are as different as a strawberry and a radish.  No surprise to find out they were on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as wedding ceremony and celebration, but in the end, I think they each had just about the most perfect of days representing their personalities that could be had.

I have to admit, Mr. Man and  I got off easy as far as financial burden for a wedding and reception for both the girls. There was a whole lot of planning and logistical maneuvering to pull both weddings off  on opposite sides of the United States, but we did it.

Half of my house was loaded into a moving truck to take to #1's wedding in northern California.

Her wedding was in Trinidad , where the Redwood Forest meets the Pacific Ocean. A non- traditional, outdoor ceremony , where bare feet were perfectly acceptable and sun block essential.

Number 2  married across the states in Pensacola , Florida and overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. A very traditional church wedding, formal attire required and heavy duty hairspray necessary.

 The irony was not lost on us. 

Mr.Man and I are very fortunate to have two daughters who are not drama queens, shy away from being the center of attention, and live within their means, and respect that their parents do the same. We are not a family of excessive fortune or boastful, prideful people. The girls planned their weddings based upon their individual personalities, and what would make the day special for them. Again, this made our situation so much easier when it came to wedding planning. We were not mortgaging the house to pay for anything.

I used to set up wedding receptions for a catering company. I've seen it all and felt as though I was prepared for disasters and set backs. No wedding is complete without something going awry.

I was prepared for family drama, anxiety attacks, wardrobe malfunction, catering problems, and well meaning guests doing rude or obnoxious antics,.  Throughout both of our daughters events, we suffered high blood pressure, flu, shingles, and gastrointestinal problems.

I had packed an arsenal to deal with any setback that I could think of for both weddings.

We ran out of food.

We had too much food.

We had the wrong food.

We had no plates for food at one wedding and no forks.

Guests got lost or missed the wedding all together due to weather.

Reservations were lost by hotels and rentals.

Floral arrangements were delivered to the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hair and makeup is over rated.

Now that its all said and done, I feel as though I can impart some pretty sound advice to the parents of engaged couples and the wedding party.

Here's what I learned. . . . .

1. Don't try to control every second of the days surround the wedding event.

2. Always have a friend you can count on to help out in case of disaster, even if they are wearing their Sunday best and high heels!

3. Reassure  the bride, that at the end of the day, no matter what, they are going to marry their best friend and partner.

4. Do not go broke or in debt to pay for any thing, and keep in mind that money will fly out of your wallet the day before and day of the wedding to "fix" any problem or issue. If you spent all your money beforehand, there won't be any left over for a "fix"!

 5. If you're trying to impress friends and family with the cost of the wedding, they won't be. .

 

6. Accept that your child is marrying into another family. You don't have to be best friends with the in laws and outlaws. You DO have to be respectful of them and encourage a peaceful blend of the families. Your child is going to make their own traditions with their spouse. FACT

7. Learn the lyrics to "Let it Go" and make it your mantra.

8. It doesn't matter what any of the guests think. It's not their party. Do not be afraid to tell anyone to stay home if they cannot be supportive of the newlyweds. (this would include close relatives too!)

9.  Wear comfortable shoes, even if they are flip flops.

10. Don't forget to kiss your own spouse and thank him/her for the day.

11. Tell your child how much they are loved and how happy you are that they are happy.

12. Pause often throughout the day and make a memory moment. Pat yourself on the back for getting through it all.

13. When things don't go quite right, smile and nod. The day will go on. All eyes are not watching every little nuance of the day. Whatever happens will probably not even be noticed. . . and if it is, own it, apologize if necessary and continue on. If the people at the wedding are judging you, well, lets just quote back to them, "Judge not lest thee be judged." 

 

14. Pray. Thank God for the blessings of the day, the good and the bad, the memories and the opportunity to gather many people to celebrate and acknowledge the birth of a new family unit.

Yes. We survived. I feel as though I should get some sort of framed certificate for doing it twice in less than a year.  It seemed so important to focus on wedding plans constantly and now that its over, the wedding is barely mentioned.  I'm glad we didn't outlay the family fortune for the event. My gladness is my children have happy unions. May they last for their lifetimes and experience their own milestones with as much joy as their parents  have.

Clean car with a belly full of fuel

It's time to wash your vehicle when you pretend its an abandoned auto that somebody just left in your driveway. After winter wet weather followed by unseasonably hot dusty winds, my FORD  Expedition is a mess!

I have to shrug myself into the seat to avoid mud-dirt-yuck contact at the entry point.

  Unable to see out the windshield, I used the last of my washer fluid to clear a smeared half moon rinse across the glass. The filth factor has reached the intolerant point. Found in the unexpectedly clean beverage cup holder, is the receipt from the Expeditions last spa day, dated November 3, 2017. The wash cost almost $40. Today, I don't have $30- $40 for the car spa. I used the last of my dollars for a Band-Aid to cover one of the holes in my bleeding out stock account and a diet coke. I decided to turn to my friend VISA to pay for the wash, and as I drive up to the car wash, the line has 20 vehicles ahead of me and a 2 hour wait. No to that. That's as appealing as waiting for hours at the DMV.  I don't recall this wash doing a particularly good job any way, and have had many unsavory encounters with the staff- and doubt that today will be different.

  It's a warm, sunny day in Southern California. Unseasonably warm for mid February. While the rest of the country is suffering from below zero weather and blizzards, its short sleeves and flip flops here.  Arriving home, I plant the Expedition on the front lawn and decide to wash this beast myself. I have done it many times. A wholesome and productive activity and the lawn needs water anyway.

Assembling  and dusting off the cleaning supplies, the car washing process begins. The neighborhood children, prone to curiosity and musings about what this old girl does all day, suspend their skateboarding and ball play to assemble on the side walk- asking the obvious, " Are you washing your car?" and "That's good. It's really dirty.". Its as if they've never ever washed a car before. (and you know, I don't think they have!).

I felt hopeful to see the mud and dirt slide from the car, revealing its navy blue finish and previous shined chrome accents. Humming with satisfaction, and scrubbing away at the caked on dirt and bug , I accidently step on the hose nozzle, catching it under the flip flop strap and am sprayed full throttle in the face and legs in frigid water. Unable to detach, I kick away the shoes, slip on the lawn and slide under the car, still being sprayed  by the damn hose.

While hose wrangling under the car, I see that the undercarriage is caked in mud, so I attempt to direct the water spray in that direction, but forget to close my mouth. How many bacterium do you think live in freeway mud and muck?

 Miffed at being assaulted with my own garden hose, I brush dripping hair out of my face, reach for the car shammy and start drying off as well as I can. My shirt is hanging on me. I am NOT wet T-shirt competition worthy. Hoping that the sun will blaze me dry in seconds, I continue my task, all the while knowing watchful eyes from various living room windows are registering my plight and realize timing this while the Ellen DeGeneres show was on would have been smarter. Thankfully, the children had dispersed after their insightful observations, so I did not have to contend with any more of their suggestions .

  Dripping, soggy, muddy and now cold, my quick little car wash has turned into an hours long affair. Regretting that I didn't call Isaac at NEXT LEVEL CUSTOM CLEANING to come to my house and make all this happen without asking me to lift a finger .

2 1/2 hours later, I am done. The car looks so much better.
 No longer a shame driven in public.
No more bug carcasses pasted on with mud.

I can see clearly through the windows. Patting myself on the shoulders and thankful I didn't break a leg or hip crawling around on the ground.

Mr. Man arrived home just as I slapped the car with my seal of approval. He takes a look at me and proclaims me a dirty, wet mess. He's careful not to state the obvious, like, "why didn't you take it to the car wash?  Satisfied at a job well done,  I have a clean car, it has a belly full of fuel and the cup holders are ready for the next big outing.  I'm READY!

Arm Wars

Please sit down and enjoy the show....................

We enjoy live theatre and have season tickets to a world class playhouse.  Not only do we have a set date every 2 months, but something we both like . This months production of West Side Story was long anticipated and looked forward to.

We sit in the same seats for each performance. The seats were chosen for their location and position in the theatre where we could enjoy optimal viewing of stage and sound.

As we entered our row, Mr. Man noticed our seats were missing or occupied. It was a sold out performance, and we knew we were in the correct row. There were only two seats open, so I told him to just sit down, these were fine and there was no reason to make everybody start checking seat numbers and readjusting.

The woman sitting next to me asked if there was a problem? I told her  , "No, just a seat number confusion but its all good".  As we took our seats, the woman occupied the entire armrest and was seated , turned to her right and leaned over into my space as if she was seated on a lounging couch. Obviously, she has not been schooled in arm rest or seat etiquette?

As I sat down, her large purse/bag was in my foot space. I nudged it with my foot back into her space.

"THAT is a Gucci" she said. Whatever. Gucci was out of bounds and I flash her my winning smile and shrug.

Ironic that we are at a production featuring turf wars and lost love . 

 As the Jets and the Sharks start performing their sinister fight dance and finger snapping, I am engrossed in the arm rest war to my right. There is no way I am going to tolerate this woman leaning on me and dominating the arm rest for 2 full hours. I've done this dance before and no way will she win against my 100lb. body weight advantage against her glammed up figure and stick arm.

  We begin our silent war. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, the gentle pressure to push each other off began. I made a sudden jerky move with my shoulder, disguising it as a shocked laugh,  which caused her to change position- and in the split second her arm was off the rest, I moved in and clutched to it like a star fish on rock.

She made the sucking -seething sound with her teeth. I could feel her anger and resentment. Guess we're not going to be Besties.

I'm not sure if she was trying to punish me for sitting in the wrong seat or because her Gucci got the nudge. Regardless, she was ticked and it was eating at her. There was palpable annoyance emanating from her. Maybe she was an aspiring Thespian who didn't get cast in this play?

 I really didn't care too much about the arm rest after a while, because I leaned to my left onto Mr. Man and we cuddled throughout the rest of the first Act. Her "hmphf's" were only a source of amusement to me.

At intermission, most of our row of 60 left for the lobby. I opted to stay, and solve our seat mystery. Noted our seats were number 24 and 48 and out of sequence with the rest of the row. Obviously, something loathsome had happened to our original seats since we visited them in March, and these were their replacements. Mystery solved. Same location, different seats. Mr. Man was reassured upon his return. I remained standing to let the other patrons pass and sit down. My neighbor and her girl friend were returning, but changing tactics on the war front. She switched seats with her larger than me friend. Usually, big girls try to shrink themselves to occupy less room. This girl was going for the opposite. She too, leaned to her left, her shoulder now fully in my seat territory and her arm too! Another designer bag was also at my feet.  This tactical move didn't even faze me.

 I waited for her to settle in, sat down on top of her arm and kicked her purse aside toward her friend two seats over.

I don't think the girl was too vested in the arm rest war. She gave it up  pretty quickly, and leaned over toward my former neighbor. I may have smelled fear, but I know she was getting sweaty leaning against my overheated body.

Mr.Man and I  thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of the show.

 Although there was theatrical bloodshed and woeful singing, I realized there is a "Time for Us" and I'm part Jet and Shark, and no actual blood was let between me and the Seat Fighter.

There was no sorrowful good byes between any of us as we left the show. We can only hope these are not the season ticket holders for those seats for next season.

Until next time, I'll keep practicing my sinister finger snapping and the "Gucci Kick".... just in case!

Congratulations! You get a car! And YOU get a car!

It was time to buy a new car.

Our Honda Accord had over 200,000 miles on it, cracked leather seats, and the typical oxidized paint green paint job that this year of Honda seemed to suffer from.

The car groaned and sputtered into the garage for it's last night of sheltered rest.

Mr. Man proclaimed it unsuitable and unreliable for the daily work commute and not surprisingly, had already picked out the Honda's successor and had arranged for it's purchase!

Having no input into which new car to buy didn't even phase me. It won't be my car, and I won't have to drive it, service it or maintain it. The only purchase condition I suggested would be passenger comfort.....something the Honda had lost long ago and had morphed itself into a torturous ride for any passengers- affirmed testimonial to this by several persons traveling in the vehicle within the last decade.

Within a day of declaring the Honda trashed and unsuitable, I found myself sitting in the Acura Dealership, listening to the list of awesome gizmos and gadgets that are available for this century's car.....how could I have possibly been able to exist without it all???

I went along on the test drive. Not required, but asked to go along so I would know how comfort affected me.

I didn't find it all that comfortable. For the hefty price tag this car sported, I should feel as though I'm riding on a cloud. Speaking out about this, I was quickly shut down by Mr. Man. It didn't matter. This was it. This was the car he was going to have and it didn't matter how I felt about it. Salesaman senses my aversion to the car and focuses all his attention on Mr. Man and his comfort!

As my signature, credit rating, money or other input didn't matter, I offered no other comment.

Soon, I was sitting in the backseat of our new car. The car salesman was kind and knowledgeable. We were receiving the tutorial required before driving away with the machine.

The dashboard was lit up like a rocket ship. I inquired about the key. . . no "key" but there's a big red button. I listened intently as the salesman went through each computerized system.

I knew I was in trouble when I asked about the cup holders.. . . . all the rage back in 1998. I didn't see ANY for the back seated passenger needing to rest the cup. The salesman told me to pull down on the middle of the seat to release the arm rest where two cup holders were located. I started pulling, and peeling, and scratching to no avail. He ended up reaching back there with his super long flexible arm and pointing to exactly where to pull. Success for me, but then I felt like an idiot. How am I supposed to operate this car when I can't even deploy its cup holder? I am in big trouble!

The tutorial lasted an hour. I drank 2 liters of water and  listened to the last of my brain cells sputter out cold and dead while trying to process all the incoming info.  The dash board display was full of numbers and symbols. Did I spot Martian symbols on the side dash? I think I'm going to need a specialty degree in physics and higher thinking mathematics. Time to start binge watching the BIG BANG theory on TV.  I see numbers and I shut down!  The salesman, obviously unimpressed with my dismal cup holder deployment, had now centered all of his attention on Mr. Man, who was being an excellent pupil- having researched, downloaded and memorized the entire owners manual for the Acura. I started wondering if there was some sort of examination after the tutorial and only high scorers would be allowed to own such  a marvel of the car world?  Only a brief thought because , really, the salesman would probably have let us take the car no matter what after signing on the many lines and incurring a monthly car payment that has been missing from our budget for a decade!

We've been on 2 long rides since the car came home last week. No, its really not cushy awesome comfort but its a huge improvement over the Honda. We can go 0-100mph in under 5 seconds and flight achievement at 200 mph. (That flight mode will be useful in the constant So. Cal traffic). The satellite radio offers a plethora of tunes and station choices and best of the best, the seat is both air conditioned and heated- doubting the heater will ever be activated for my hind end. (When you're hot, you're hot!). So many awesome features.  Mr. Man could become a living commercial citing the car's attributes. It could be his retirement career. How have we managed to travel or drive before this car?

For me. . . . I like my car key. It's largish, at 3 inches. It's my weapon and self defense while walking to the car, soda can opener, car locator, and I like to actually stick it into the ignition and turn it. I've used my car key for so many things other than turning over the engine. What am I supposed to do with a cube covered in symbols? a KEY has gouging and scaring capability. The cube. . . maybe a little bruise but nothing permanent.  Yes, I've driven the new car. Yes, its quiet and smooth and I can't tell if the engine is on or not except that the wheels keep going around.

Give me a little pick up truck any day. THAT is a useful vehicle and I'm waiting for my 1944 Chevy truck to appear in the garage soon! Until then, welcome me into the 21st century , keyless entries and dealing with weird lights and arrows pointing every direction on the dash!

Happy Spring, 2017

Oh yay!

Spring is here!

The sun is high in the sky and daylight savings makes the day last even longer.

It's time to herd the blooming flowers into submission to stay within the garden borders and train the many vines to climb where they will be the most appealing and beneficial.

The ancient grape vines that rotted and harbored some deadly bark disease, were cut back to their very nubs last fall and have come back to life heartier and greener than ever, already covering the garden trellis and showing a hint of fruit production, which has only happened twice since they came to live in my garden!

I'm not a gardener, or a farmer. I just don't have what it takes to make a fine looking garden and productive vegetable plot. I'm more of a garden trainer. I tell the plants to grow, clip their leaves and stems when they get brown and provide a little water.

I like to look at fine gardens and visit nurseries where plants seem so inviting and  lovely, but my head just doesn't have the imagination or the motivation to make an awesome garden. I'll just stick with my little tiny secret garden that can only be seen outside from the guest bathroom window. When that little plot of garden looks bad or dying off, I can lock the  window and nobody is the wiser. 

I was observing a the flowering Jasmine vine planted across the back wall. It had gone beserk and was vining its way up the telephone pole and various trees overhanging my back wall. It had also grown through the decorative holes of the top brick and was reaching out a good 4-5 feet into my neighbors yard who just had his yard re-landscaped. It was surprising he hadn't had his gardeners cut the vine back off his side of the wall. I decided to be the good neighbor and take care of it for him.

Keeping in mind that I am a senior and a little bouncy in various places, I balanced on top of a stump to reach up and over the wall and clung to the top brick with one arm , brandishing garden shears in the other. The vine was a good 1/2 inch thick in many places so I wrapped it around my arm for additional support . This worked well until I cut through my vines base unknowingly and crashed into the flower bed. Marred in places I had never messed up before, I continued my task of removing the vine and filled all the green waste bins, trash bins and buckets with the clippings. Gazing over the wall, I was satisfied with my work and glad to have rid the neighbor of the vines protruding every which way along his entire walled backyard. Cleaning myself up was a hapless job, covered in vine sap and bloody scratches, giant blobs of muck and Lord knows what in my hair. I started the pre-clean process in the outdoor shower, stripping down to the jog bra (never been jogging by the way) and the short shorts under the jeans. Just as I finish washing, I hear the neighbors and their children come out to their yard. I hear , "Oh no! Look at this! What has Happened?!"  The wife is tsking and claiming its a shame, now they have to look at the bare pink brick wall. "Now we'll have to pay to have even more plants put in! "

I kept quiet and slinked into the house. Apparently, when they had their yard landscaped, they had concrete patio poured all the way to their wall edge, leaving no dirt planter or planting space along most of that wall. They had counted on me leaving my wild jasmine taking over and creating a blooming green cover for them also. I guess this might have happened if they had let me know, but I certainly can't undo what I've done, and my side looks fabulous with the vine design intended for the wall.

Licking my wounds and  scrubbing sap  off my shoes and clothing could have been totally averted with a little forewarning.

The gardens are looking well. The seeds planted.... not so well. They don't seem to be sprouting so apparently I've poisoned them before they got started. We'll give them another try and then I'll focus my efforts on the living. Armed with garden scissors and a bucket, the yard is now back to manageable by myself. This gives me extra time to read by the pool and  smell the herbs and citrus which are planted throughout the yard. It gives me time to reflect on my many, many blessings, one of which is to be able to have my own yard and gardens.

I thank God for blooms, hummingbirds, garden lizards and butterflies, all of which have doubled in number now that their garden is cleaned up and there is new dirt and feeders to play in.

I hope you will find your little piece of garden and have a relaxing day, and enjoy a good book!
Happy Spring, 2017