Yesterday, I was told that there was a surprise destination I needed to visit, on the west side of town, out in the country. He didn't say what it was, and I didn't ask. (I did, however, say that this was how surprises were best delivered to me, with a mysterious warning, since I don't handle things well that come out of nowhere. Now we know.) So we ran hours' worth of errands, finding this mysterious country location sometime after lunch. It turned out to be a rather eclectic plant nursery, where all the plants are grown on location, and the owner was a bit of an odd bird. He reminded me a lot of my old boss at the place in New Mexico that I mentioned a few weeks ago, but with a lot more swearing. His skill with plants, just like my old boss', was undeniable. He put together the most amazing container pots of succulents and mixed annuals. Everything was stunning. And his whole shop was funky and neat. I couldn't help myself. I fell in love with the deepest orange begonias, and couldn't leave without a pot of them. There are very few places in Park West appropriate for shade plants, but I'm hoping they'll survive well enough right next to Melody Pond. The drinks and candle shelf right next to her is painted dark brown, and the orange flowers look perfect there. (No worries, I haven't switched my football allegiance to the Cleveland Browns. No self-respecting Coloradan would do that, as far as I can tell.) I hope I can keep them alive next to a large pool of chlorinated water. There aren't many other places I can put them.
After spinning out of control for weeks, I've tried to get back to doing the groundwork I'm supposed to be doing every week for lead generation at work. Obviously a person like me would prefer to have an all-referral business, where friends come up to me and ask me to help them buy houses, and phoning complete strangers never happens. Unfortunately, that is not the nature of the business, and I don't know enough people locally to work that way yet. So I'm sitting floor, which means manning the backside of the website, with the phones forwarded to me, while I hang out in a bathrobe in my easy chair. And lo and behold, I actually had a really great lead fall into my lap today. I have been spending a lot of time getting familiar with the plains city she wants, and am in the process of getting her homes to look at. The bad news is that she wants to go looking while my brokerage is doing the next volunteer project this weekend. I'll either be arriving late or leaving early. I don't suppose any of my local readers want to help fill my space at a project, do you? It's all gardening work, mulching and weeding sort of stuff, at a community garden in Fort Collins. Should be a good time. Anyone? Contact me for details if you want to go dig in some dirt for three hours and have fun.
As furniture moves out of my house, we are rearranging the setup around here. One of the big changes is that Accidental Agnes the Adventurous Anole is moving into mommy's room, so that she is close enough that I always remember to spray water for her to drink. We planned for months to upgrade her cricketarium, putting in gravel and soil and planting her arrowhead into a bigger pile of dirt than the little pot that held it before. So this evening we flipped her house, adding the dirt and new branches to climb, and dumping in a new clutch of 51 crickets. Yeah, I know, you're only supposed to add them one at a time, every few days, but this is the reptile pet of a woman with chronic illness. I can be a shade forgetful at times. So now I'll be lulled to sleep each night to the cacophony of cricket song, while Agnes feasts on crickets in her new luxury home, and those crickets now have a bigger dish with more food. (No wonder the other bugs kept dying. The mealworm chow they'd been eating had run out and we hadn't noticed.) Upgrades for everyone.
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