This blog post was Freshly Pressed on April 9th 2012. Yay!
There is a lot going on in my life right now. Most of which is actually inside my head because these things have yet to come to fruition. For the first time in my adult life, I’m actually excited.
I’m not really a fan of being excited. That makes me sound totally boring, doesn’t it? And, for the most part, I am boring. I prefer to keep my body’s vital organs at standard speed, and I’ll do almost anything to prevent my heart rate from increasing or my oxygen intake from surpassing how quickly my brain can actually process what the hell is going on. I hyperventilate easily and my doctor once sent me to a class to learn how to breathe correctly. I was genetically set up to fail at rationalizing. Life would be so much easier had my Wisconsin-bred mother just simply passed on to me her family’s biological abilities to ride in the backseats of cars without getting sick and to withstand subzero temperatures. But nooooo…I was gifted with the anxiety attacks. Unfortunately, I get cold and queasy quite often.
I say this only because my level of excitement is pretty much matching up with my level of anxiety and, for about a good decade or so now, I have forgotten how to differentiate between the two: anxiety (ugh, dreadful) and excitement (happiness!). So while I work on these two emotions and train myself to separate one from the other, I spend a lot of time in my garden getting my hands dirty, figuring out Plans A, B, and C, and imagining how much happier I can be. The hard part is not the imagining, it’s the making it happen. Especially when I’ve become so dependent on other people’s use of time.
Apparently, I’m not really a fan of being patient, either, but that’s another story for another day.
In the meantime, while I was imagining Plan A this morning, I came to realize that my garden has become of sort of drop-off shelter for homeless plants. With our four raised beds, only two of which are mine, we should have enough cucumbers and tomatoes to supply the whole block come summertime. However, yesterday, I was asked to find room for four more cucumber plants.
Four more? Because the six we have isn’t enough? Good thing I like pickles. Add on top of this my evolving obsession with flowers, with which I seem to have plenty of success and not enough room, and the displaced seedling saga seems neverending. Surely we can take in a lemon cucumber seedling, a few squash plants, and er…there’s no room for the eggplant! Yeah, there’s also no room for four more cucumbers, a lemon cucumber, and a squash. TAKE A NUMBER AND HAVE A SEAT, EGGPLANT!
And just like any other respectable homeless shelter, I have yet to turn a single plant away. Besides, the busier I am kept, the less likely I will be to totally lose my shit in the next coming weeks as Plan A becomes more and more of a reality…
TIME FOR PRETTY PICTURES SO I CAN THINK OF THINGS OTHER THAN MY TINGLY HANDS AND FACE DUE TO OXYGEN DEPRIVATION!!!!!!!!! (dammit, where are those notes on how to breathe…?? Gaaaaasp, I NEED AIR.)
Considering a lively Facebook discussion last week regarding the lavender, two sides were presented – how lavender has a calming effect on crazy types like myself and how lavender has been deemed a culprit in short-burst & short-term memory loss. I chose memory loss. I figure it works out for me in this way: while I am conscious and aware, I would prefer to be as calm as possible. In fact, if I wasn’t sure I’d look like a complete idiot around town, I would have strapped that lavender plant around my neck and shoulders to have it readily available to sniff in the event I feel a situation (which seems normal to most everyone else) could only mean impending doom.
Actually, there’s my Plan D: strap the lavender across my face like a horse’s feeder trough. I’M SUCH A PROBLEM SOLVER!