digressions

I think it may be safe to say that it's actually springtime now on the street where I live. Why oh why would a born-and-raised Kentucky girl say such a thing without knocking on wood or some other equally superstitious and supposedly helpful in these situations kind of thing? I dunno... just seemed like the right thing to say at the time. But regardless of that digression, I do believe that the temperatures will not be dipping back into the 40s again anytime soon. It's supposed to cool down considerably (from the present and not-so-much-like-April-now-that-you-mention-it 82 degrees) in the next week or so, but I don't think it will be drastic.

Of course having said that, I'm sure one of the evil weather gods is laughing his cumulonimbus off and will smite my upcoming graduation party with torrential flooding, murderous zephyr-type winds, and hail stones the size of...... something large and menacing.

Not that I believe in any such weather god and as far as the real God goes, He can send whatever kind of weather He wants and I'll not complain because... duh, why would I?

But yes, 82 degrees out there today. I've only been out once so far, which is not due to anything having to do with personal choice but with the increasingly frightening pile of clothes taking over my laundry room. They were clean, mind you, but still piled precariously in several baskets just waiting to topple over and kill or at least maim the next person who walked through. I defeated them, though! With almost no effort and all while enjoying some nice bluegrassy gospel music (including at least 2 songs which sound scarily like Bob Evans commercials) and watching my son play in the floor.

We've had similar weather the past few days and I have to say that my body is not reacting well to the semi-hottish weather, which is frustrating, but I haven't let it stop me. Yesterday I was thoroughly outdone by my 72-year-old grandmother. She was going all over the yard with her sharp shooter digging up starts of some bushes for me and I was totally pooped, sitting in the shade feeling depressed and disgusted with myself because I had no energy. P.S., when I say "sharp shooter," I mean this and not anything along these lines. David gets irritated with me because I refuse to call it by its proper name, but I just can't bring myself to call a spade a spade... har har. And by the way, if you do any gardening whatsoever, I highly suggest you invest in one of these things.

Point of interest, my grandmother noticed my lethargy and informed me that she had no energy when she was young either, which she attributed to having periods......... your guess is as good as mine, folks.

I had plenty of energy the two previous days, having gotten up, gotten breakfast for Scotty and myself, gotten ready gone to church, come home and worked outside, fixed supper and gotten ready a second time (usually from the "ground up", having worked outside and not wanting to drive the general population to madness with my raw and attractive animal-ish magnetic aroma... aka, I stank from working outside) and gone to church again. I just wrote all of that in a really awkward tense, so if it's hard to read blame something hormonal... I'm sure my grandmother would.

But enough of this folly... I most certainly do have flowers growing around my house in the ground, in pots, and in the barrel. I just hope that I can keep them all alive this year. I had a lot of things going against me last summer. The late frost got things off to a rough start and the drought did absolutely nothing to help, but the fact that it was over 100 degrees most days and I was in the last stages of at-least-40-pounds-heavier, ankles-no-where-to-be-found, what-there-are-actually-bones-in-those-doughy-things-I-think-are-my-feet pregnancy... well, suffice it to say that my yard looked quite desolate and very crumbly. It was the yard of death.

But this year it shall be the yard of life. And I shall add pictures very soonly.

Happy days are here again because - write this down, kids - spring is better than Christmas.