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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Thursday, Mar. 10, 2005 - 12:07 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Garden Hopes Resuscitated

OK< OK< cuz I cannot stand another wonderful caring comment such as left by the adorable and sexy Hissandtell just moments ago... I have to put in an entry though I haven't much time.

Or rather cuz I have to stop spacing and work. (yeah, you know you are running low on the batteries when you just sit there with your eyes glazing)...

So.. .the great and wonderful news that somehow exhausts me more than makes me happy is this...

They called to say that actually the woman in charge of calling people on the waiting list to give out the deserted gardens is behind on her duties. So even though I am late as a turkey on Valentines Day, I get my garden back!!!

Yay! :D

So no more tearful but eversowelcome and supportive letters of condoleance, cuz I cannot take feeling like a fake.

The weird thing is after the crying I was resigned, much like when you are dumped by someone, but then realize that no, life will go on. And maybe you CAN go out dancing whereas with them you stayed home and watched videos cuz they hate dancing. And you CAN eat popcorn in bed cuz they won't be grumbling about the crumbly bits anymore. And you can do whatever you like cuz no one will care... oooo freedom!

So yeah, after the teariness and despair, I was already planning that I would just have more time, not have to fight with leafminer worms and powdery mildew, or the glare of the gardenboss who calls to say I haven't pulled out my half inch tall weeds yet, or the rushing to water when it is hot, and trying to get up at 9am to do my allotted compulsory community garden chores, or the panic of having to take down the garden in the fall at one of the two most insane rushes of the illustration year.

And I was even thinking how simple it would be to just BUY produce, and not deal with buckets of green tomatoes (though I have a KILLER GOOD green tomato ketchup recipe omg!), and how lovely it would be to be able to go away for a week in August without trying to find a garden babysitter.

So the tears were drying, the dust was settling, the rhubarb was considering transplant into a planter, the oregano into windowboxes (thanks for the suggestion... for some reason when I plant it in the front yard soil it gets so bizarre that it makes your mouth tingle like some illicit drug).

And then the phone woke me up this morning, and I got the call from the municipal office saying though I am a tardy miserable bisexual prostitute, old, jaded and disfunctional, they are giving me back my garden anyways. (I dunno, I think ob was snappier with her "drama-ridden pigeon-toed ass" than the "old jaded bisexual prostitute" schtick I got from that progressive lesbian blogger non? points to ob for imagery).

So, no more tears. Just I am so exhausted, maybe I'll just buy tomatoes, throw them on the ground, and then scramble to pick them up again, pretending there were actual plants that they fell off of. hehe.

Hugs to all, you were so wonderful. And disappearing boy called (sorry bout last night, but he worked late, he'll call sometime).. so he is off the hook too I suppose. Or rather back ON the hook and not swum away completely. Though not here, and not huggly nor snuggly.

I really have to get some work done. All I have done today is go to the vet, two pages of comics (not the one I NEED to do for my site), put away the laundry, vaccuum the floor, go to the gym, walk the dog twice, pay some bills, wrap up and send comics to the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, and solicit funds for shaving my hair for children's cancer research. BTW if you want to contribute to that in my name, send me an email and I'll send you the URL of the charity with my mug on it, ok?? thanks.

Later y'all.

Next time when my dog dies, maybe it'll stay dead.

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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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