Apr 6, 2012
Y’all have been reading all week about my outdoor/home improvement kick this week. It’s going great. Correction: it was going great. It was, as they say, all fun and games til someone got hurt. Me.
Today the clouds stayed around and the wind came back, making for a very chilly day. Not a good day for digging in wet dirt. But that’s not it.
So instead of actual yard work, Mom and I went to Lowe’s and I found a small bowl planter for the Lantana, and I had to get a 25-pound bag of rock for the bottom of the small planters. I had to lift the 25-pound bag of rock into the cart, and from the cart to my car, and from my car to my garage. But that’s not it.
I went back to Home Depot to buy a cactus for Dot and saw half-barrel planters. I love them. I tried to lift one. It was heavy. But that’s not it.
Mom gave me an early Easter present: she had bought me a Sweet Broom shrub tied up like a tree. I love it. I’d seen it last week and am so very happy to have it, already in a planter. So she brought it over and we hauled it out of her car and into my yard and positioned it. But that’s not it.
We positioned the plants and planters around the yard. I watered the new plants and checked on the ones already taken care of. Then we decided to sit and survey the colorful additions. I placed my plastic patio chair next to Mom’s and we sat for a few minutes and talked.
Then ~ in that stupid motion that’s slow enough to make you think a thousand ways to stop but fast enough that you can’t really do anything about it ~ the back leg of my chair began to sink into soft ground and I found myself tipping back. In one not-so-swift motion, I realized my wrist was about to break from the impending pressure. I had just enough time and space to shift my arm and landed smack-dab on my shoulder and upper arm, while the rest of my body tried to catch up.
You know that phrase, “head over heels”? That’s it.
And that was me.
And that’s about right. I’m pretty much that one in a million, but not in a good way.
So. After four hard days of digging, planting, transferring, growing, spreading, planning, reaching, pulling, tugging, and plotting… I’ve been done in by a two-inch square patch of soft sand.
Tonight I’m enjoying a hot apple cider after an Epsom Salt bath. And more than one ibuprofen.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
Apr 5, 2012
The last few days I’ve enjoyed my home improvement kick and yard beautification attempts. I’d like to say I’m seeing tiny new sproutlings in the flower beds and on the tomato stems… but I can’t really be sure.
Today I bought three new plants as well. A lovely yellow and green Sweet Broom for under the living room window, yellow and purple Lantana to spread over the stump, and Elijah Blue to grow in the corner.
Little by little, my dirt lot is becoming a yard.
I didn’t have time to take photos today, because I also have a leaky drip system and when I finally found the source, it wasn’t the real source. Which means more digging tomorrow. Yea! Dirt under the fingernails is an awesome feeling.
I uncovered (rather, finally paid attention to) a hanger for a flagpole, too. So this Bedford Manor will be flying the Red, White and Blue soon!
I’d write a lot more, but the truth is I was doing yardwork and housecleaning all morning so that I could spend over three hours in a movie theatre this afternoon with Mom and Dot to watch TITANIC.
It’s an overwhelming experience, to see it after all these years on the Big Screen. I visited the actual Titanic exhibit at the Luxor in Las Vegas last summer; and the Queen Mary, which was fashioned after the Titanic, is docked in Long Beach so every now and then I’ve been there. All that to say, watching the TITANIC today was really moving.
With that, I still have studies and writing to do, so for now I shall say adieu.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Jan 28, 2012
The pollen alert today (Friday) was ridiculous. Only Southern California could have a weather alert for high pollen warning.
I never had allergies in my childhood. We lived in the Midwest, fought mosquitoes in the summer, sled on frozen rivers in the winter, and enjoyed cherry blossoms in the spring.
Then we moved to the desert. The forsaken, empty, barren desert. You’ve heard this story before. Okay, it’s not that forsaken. It’s growing. And we have several Starbucks, so we must be okay on someone’s map.
Our winters are different. We get a light dusting of snow (if we’re lucky). A few rainstorms (if we’re really lucky). And all the dead leaves from the fall get blown away with the Santa Ana winds.
This year we haven’t seen the snow or much rain yet. But the Santa Anas are back in force. And that means dirt and dust and dried up leaves and anything else that wishes it had wings, does. Even the tiny pollen.
Did I mention I never had allergies? Yup. That’s right: past tense. Because ever since I’ve lived in the desert, guess what: Spring hates me. Sad. Sad. Sad.
But that’s okay. I’m one in a million. Literally. Because I am the only person I know who is verifiably allergic to prescription allergy medications.
True story.
Can’t breathe? Too bad! Eyes running like the Nile? Invest in Kleenex. Stuffy nose? Yeah… the whole mouth-breathing thing is not attractive, but it works. Headache? Well at least for that I can take an ibuprofen.
But an allergy pill? No way. Not this body. They do weird things to me. Allegra. Claritin. I forget what other brands I’ve tried.
But after my fourth yearly trip to the E.R., the doctors finally figured out that I’m just one of those lucky people who can’t take allergy medication. They give me heart palpitations. They make me dehydrated. Irritable. Incoherent.
And in one case, caused me to pass out.
In public.
At the Courthouse, no less.
Yeah. That was a fun one.
It was about ten years ago. I was a legal secretary and had to file papers with the Court. I walked across the street after having taken my morning allergy pill. By the time I stood in line for five minutes I knew something was wrong. Thankfully, I recognized our Process Server. She later told me I asked her to call my boss before I went down. All I remember was being in and out of consciousness for over half an hour. I woke up in the E.R. with an oxygen mask and two IV’s.
Not scary at all…. right….
There was a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo about platelets and blood counts and Oh-Two and stuff I didn’t understand. But what I did understand was that I can’t take allergy pills again. Ever.
Now and then I conveniently forget. Now and then (about once a year) I get so miserable I figure an over-the-counter Claritin can’t be that bad. And now and then I puke my guts out. And then I remember.
Why am I telling you all this? Well first, I’m desperate for writing material because it’s midnight and I have to have a decent post up in five hours. (How’d I do?) Second, and I should hope this is fairly obvious, but the Santa Ana winds are a-blowing which means I’m a-sniffling and a-sneezing. Third, now that my sad story is out there for public consumption, I’m reminding myself ahead of time to not take any allergy pills this year.
No matter how miserable I get. No matter how stuffy or watery or scratchy or irritable I get. This, too, shall pass.
And I’ve made it my goal to not get in any accidents and not have any hospital visits this year. Hey. I’m almost through January. That’s pretty good in my calendar.
Now if I could just take a deep breath and relax…
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
