I've caught myself dwelling on first world problems several times lately. I burned the kale and chard in my omelet this morning, and felt like a failure. I left the house late for a massage, and passed so many cops set up for speed traps (or having sprung them on other drivers), I couldn't drive fast. I growled to my steering wheel, "I hate being late to a massage," and then I felt like I really should slap myself for saying something like that out loud. It's one of those opportunities to step back and count my blessings, as the Rosemary Clooney song goes. My life seems hectic at times, what with nearly every single major stressor coming down on me at once, but I am safe, getting healthier, and I have a promising future. I'm good. I will stop complaining about burned greens and missing the first five minutes of a massage.
I had hoped to accomplish a little more outside than I did today, but I managed to put together a few more hanging baskets and containers. All of the baskets around the deck are freshened, with a couple volunteer plants left to grow until they can be identified. I think I have a couple snapdragons that re-seeded, and maybe some pansies or violas? We are still losing the battle of the sycamore pods, but another bucketload is now in the burn pit. More keep falling on the deck and around the yard to take their place. I will never own land with sycamores on it again, not after this place. I may have to fight cacti or goat heads, but I will be done with sycamores forever when we move.
I am going to take my leave here, and put up today's pictures. I need to go take a double dose of Benadryl and hope that it keeps me from scratching the poison ivy rash along my ribs and inner wrists all night long. Nothing to do now but wait it out. Good times.
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