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June 27th, 2004

just in from the yard

It was time to stop:; my arms are shaking. Don't know if I'll get much freelance stuff done at the keyboard today now. Maybe a bath first, and some, I dunno, arm rest? Way not ready for houseguests coming Thursday, but I'll get theree.

So this mornign I mowed the back yard and the space under the Jeep, and, going to take the mower back to Bert, I was pretty overwhelmed with emotion, one portion of which was a decidedly boosted amount of a certian emotion he & Susan (among others) think I should feel more of. So I knocked on the door to report it, but they were out. As I went to walk back, more emotion welled, and I saw another neighbor in her yard. She's a yard person, so I asked her if I could just mow under the perennials. She asked which, and I said all of 'em. Or burn 'em, like the April prairie burn off. She didn't seeem to get the facetiousness, at least not for sure, but certianly picked up on my level of rfrustration, and next thing i iknew I had a garden counselor. And a loan of some hand clippers. And a model of how to do this and that. In fact she kept doing stuff to show me how, and then to show me how much you can get done of one modified version of a task in a relatively short period of time.

I felt guilty but glad to have the help--especially the knowledge of how to contain collateral damage, one of my (several) big fears about the yard. At one point I said I felt like I was Tom Sawyer, or was it Huck, getting somebody to whitewash my fence. But she was kind and encouraging and then firm, practically ordering me to do at least x today, despite the other pressing stuff. And damn if I didn't do x + 7, or 3x, or somthing like that. [Is there anybody else out there who wants to put dollar signs around those variables/?? ha ha] [math mark-up language joke, not a reference to money]

I still have mixed feelings. Despair is never far enough away, and, to one degree or antohere, I'm in a constant struggle not to be overwhelmed (in one way or another) by this state I'm stuck in. And it's flat-out exhausing not to be able to loook at the big picture, to have to keep concentratitng on little steps, and keep concentrating, and keep concentrating. That's been how it's had to be for an awful long stretch already, and that's how it's gonna keep being for a long stretch from here.

I think I'm a big picture gal, by temperament or trainign, or both, or whatever. And a project person more than a processs person. And somebody who prefers not to live alone. And NOT a garden pereson!

Still: now, in addition to the green light to mow over certina stuff I wans't sure about, I have some big piles of thistle which are, even as I type shakily, beginning to lose soem of the water that makes up 90% of 'em.

And I need to think of something good to do for my neighbotr, besides backyard black raspberries and all-you-can-dig-and-transplant flora.
 

I think that makes it official.

I have just moved the litter box to the bedroom. So now there are virtually no books in the study, and no potentially smelly poopy box for guest(s) to endure while resting, so even though the futon is not set up (and I'm not sure I'll get it on the frame; may have roll-it-out futon for comp'ny) I think we can declare it a guest room.

I'm a little sad that we'll never have the study I always wanted to make (the one in Kansas was pretty nice, though never fully decorated)---but having a guest room is a good thing. Until it becomes a housemate room, if I get that far with the little steps before faking my own death and running away.
 
Mo and discy disc
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'Ff'lo

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