Nocturnal Gardening, Shovel Services, and the Mosquito Den of Creation

I know that had a fever and/or was highly medicated when I decided it would be a good idea to order live plants on the Internet.  I was in crazy mode and ordered all sorts of things for DIY house plans!  I also ordered wallpaper.  That's another story for another day.

I selected the plants based on the fact that the sale said that they would tolerate lots of water or drought (this equals I can ignore them).  Also, they're blue plants.

They're "Cool Blue Mix Hosta" plants, whatever that means.

They arrived yesterday with the instructions to plant immediately.  I've been really sick lately and Dan is still sick, which meant the planting had to be soon, but not immediately as suggested.  Dan and I set out for garden soil, gloves, a tiny shovel, and a kickboard to save my aging knees (32 is hard!).

By the time we got home from the store, it was after 9 pm and dark.  I sent Dan inside because he has the death plague.  I grabbed a rather large shovel and set out to work.

Let me sidebar for a moment - I've joked/"joked" with one of my friends for years that she has unlimited "shovel services" since we're such good friends.  This translates to I'll bury whomever she needs me to bury when the time comes.  I suppose, before tonight, I'd never really used a shovel seriously.  IT'S A LOT OF WORK.  While I know it will definitely mean more loose ends if we have to hire outside help for shovel services, that's where we are.  I had a hard enough time digging up the soil in the planters by my front door to mix it with the gardening soil.  I absolutely doubt my abilities to dig a large hole.  So, all shovel services are officially cancelled.

Must be great at digging holes

Back to my nocturnal gardening adventure.  I managed to get 2 of the 4 bags of soil put out and mixed in with the stuff that was already there.  I planted the dang live root plant things.  I watered them.  I cleaned up (most of) my mess.  

All the while, I was thinking that it was amazing that I was not being bothered by the legions of mosquitoes which guard my front door.  Anyone who has been to my house knows that the front door area of my house is the Mosquito Den of Creation - where all mosquitoes come from.  They swarm even when it is chilly.

The entire time I was out there, not a single mosquito even came near enough for me to hear its high pitched buzz.  I was seriously impressed by the bracelet things I bought from Big Lots for $0.95 each.  I bought two and stuck one on each wrist.  Totally worked.  I highly recommend these things if you're going to exist in the outside world with mosquitoes.  

Buy these!  Buy all of these if you see them!  They work!

I'll update at some point with pictures of the plants, should they ever actually grow into things with leaves.  For now, I am going to go celebrate my nocturnal gardening accomplishments with some Easter clearance blue Peeps.

In Love = Obsession, Real Love = Life

In an Amazon shopping spree, I picked up a new book about a week ago, "The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts" by Gary Chapman.  One of my friends had mentioned the book to me a good 4 or 5 years ago and I'd meant to pick it up ever since.

Reading through the first 40 pages or so, I was surprised at what I had read.  Chapman shares that the first two years of a relationship are the "in-love," or obsession stage.  He sites a vast amount of research which shows that people do not act in their sane mind during those first two years of a relationship.  Each person will be hyper-focused on their new love, try to spend as much time as possible around each other, and basically do anything they can possibly think of for the other person.

This is what has led to the common perception of what love should be like.  Movies, books, television shows, pictures with quotes posted over them all over the internet - they're built on this ideal of romance.

However, as Chapman points out, and I'm sure more people than just me have realized, it's only a temporary state of mind.  After two years (sometimes longer, in the case of secret relationships, says Chapman), a person starts returning to normal.

They start to notice the things their friends and family have pointed out about their significant other.

They start to be annoyed more often with their mate, and they often start wishing things would go back to the way they were in the beginning of their relationship.  It may even get to the point where there are fights over wanting things to go back to the way they were.

This is unrealistic because the only way things work perfectly in the beginning is because we are stuck in a state of psychological euphoria.  "Oh, I know he doesn't shave everyday, his stubble is cute," and "Save the vacuuming for tomorrow, let's spend more time together," turns into "Ugh, I just wish he'd care about his appearance," and "I don't understand why she can't vacuum and move on with her day."

The book says all hope is not lost for relationships because real love can be built after the in-love stage is over.  Real love doesn't just happen, it's something people have to work towards.  It's realizing that life is not perfect (because we're no longer delusionally happy) and that to stay in a loving relationship you have to make an effort to make sure the one you're with is happy.  Hopefully, that person will return the favor.  The idea here is to do things for the other person to make them happy because you find fulfillment and happiness in making them happy - not because you'll get anything in return.

My point in sharing this is that it was a real eye-opener to me.  I've been in a handful of long term relationships which hit and passed the 2 year mark.  The break ups were always bad.  I couldn't figure out how things could go from being "perfect" to each of us constantly being irritated or upset with the other.  Looking back on these relationships, or even my current relationship, it's accurate that around the 2 year mark, things started losing the love-struck haze of absolute happiness and becoming high-definition real.

The two things I learned so far:
1. It's how you deal with reality once the haze wears off that is important.
2. Never, ever make long term decisions within that initial 2 year period.

3 Random Prompts - Sounds, Drunken Episode, Adventures in Space

For fun, I bought a book entitled, 642 Things to Write About. I asked my Facebook friends to choose 3 numbers, promising to write about whatever prompts followed their numbers. These are the results:

 

576 - Sitting in a single location for 20 minutes, take notes focusing exclusively on the sounds you can hear.

It sounds like a rustling leaf. Ticking dryly across the tile floor, edge over edge at sporadic intervals. Every now and then, it pauses, the sound replaced by tiny padded feet tapping lightly along the tile. When the soft pattering stops, the sound kicks up once again, beginning with the sound of the dry leaf hitting the tile from a fair height.

In the background, cicadas buzz their summery, evening hymn, rising and falling with the breeze. The only breeze audible near me is that produced by the ceiling fan. The light pull-chain clinks gently against the fan motor, which hums softly, in even, drawn out intervals.

The rustling has stopped, replaced by incessant licking, a rough brushing through soft fur, hitting the sticker the cat had been knocking around like a leaf. Moira desperately licks, her tongue scraping across the edge of the paper, slowly tearing off the sticker. With a slow suction noise, the sticker peels off her fur and hits the tile once again with a thin ticking. The padding of her steps grow quieter as she walks away.

 

289 - Another drunken episode.

"What? No. We are not doing that." Wearing leggings and boots to the bar had been the first bad decision of the evening. Responding to the arse at the bar who asked if I thought I was a super hero or something was likely the second. I was on my way to my third.

Ignoring the ever wise words of my friend Cate, I continued to make my way out of the bar. "It's okay, dude, I still have Halloween stuff in my trunk. I'm pretty sure I've got a mask and a cape. Trust me."

Cate sighed loudly, obviously not as inebriated as I, and stomped after me to the car. "Why do I have to be the bad guy?" She leaned against the green Honda Civic as I dug through the trunk.

"Duh, because both of us can't be superheroes. Someone needs to kidnap the girl and tie her to the railroad tracks." I grabbed the black Zorro mask my buddy Jack had returned and tied it on quickly as Cate stood staring, her mouth slightly agape in shock.

"We are not tying anyone to the railroad tracks." She crossed her arms, not bothering to catch either the orange Ninja Turtle eye mask or the black, floor length cape I'd tossed at her.

Frowning, I turned my attention from the trunk to her. Slowly, I grinned. "What if we tied Greg to the tracks?" It would take some convincing, but I was sure I could get Greg to play along. Cate has had a thing for Greg ever since her second year of college.

Cate barely considered before grabbing the cape and mask. "Now, you're talking," she grinned as she suited up.

"Great! Now help me find the cowboy lasso so we have some rope." What could possibly go wrong?

 

5 - You are an astronaut. Describe your perfect day.

Captain's log, 7/13/2178, 20:56. Won at Risk against the Martians again. It's really not fair. They don't quite understand the concept of divide and conquering. That and they just can't keep control of Europe. I'm worried they might start to take it personally and decide to take over Earth for real. Must figure out how to read Martian emotions.

I'm not entirely sure what it was that I had for lunch while gaming with the Martians. All I know is that it moved before, during and after being cooked. I keep trying to tell myself it tasted like chicken. Went back to the space station and promptly ate all of the freeze dried strawberries to get the "chicken" taste out of my mouth.

It's video night at the space station tonight and my turn to choose what to watch. I'm thinking something archaic, like Galaxy Quest. I'm sure the Martians would get a kick out of that. Maybe follow up with some Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes for good measure. I'm curious what their take on the Borg will be. I'm more curious about whether or not they'll like popcorn.

 

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Two Things Tuesday - Midnight Edition

I'm sure it'll hardly be Tuesday by the time I finish this post.  Nevertheless, it's still going to be a Two Things Tuesday post.  I had meant to write something earlier today.  However, I spent the day trying to think of two things to post about.  TWO.   Just two.  Seriously, how hard could that be?  Anyway.


1.  Have you ever looked positively mentally crazy?  While I try not to do this too often, I find myself in these situations more than I ought to be in them.  Today's crazy is compliments of my cousins Danielle and Emily.  For my bridal shower, they bought me this fantastic smelling perfume set from Victoria's Secret.  It's from the Sexy Little Things line and called "Tease".


Being home alone, with nothing better to do with myself, I decided to play with the contents of the gift set.  I tried the body wash, followed it up with the lotion, then a spritz from the fancy-shmancy perfume bottle.

Now, when I use foo-foo juice stuff, I expect to be able to smell it for maybe an hour on myself, then have it be noticeable to everyone but me after that.  This did not happen.  Hours later, I could still smell the pear, apple, vanilla, jasmine, and gardenia (oh, my!).  

It started to get to me.  Don't get me wrong, it smells great.  However... I was intrigued I still smelled so strongly.  So... I did what any self-respecting crazy person would do.  I licked my arm.

Anything that smells that strongly, I reasoned, was probably edible.  I wanted to know if I tasted like pears.  The first lick produced a taste that I thought might be pears.  Though, I wasn't sure.  It could just be the taste of lotion with lots of chemicals.  Pears/chemicals, same thing.  So, I continued to lick my arm for a little while in order to make a decision. 

Even the cats were watching me like I was nuts.

2.  I went to the post office today to ship a book to Wichita Falls, Texas and a box to Costa Mesa, California.  The helpful man behind the counter, who likes to give me a hard time every time I come in, mentioned it must be nice to be part of the 1%.  

Quizzically, I raised an eyebrow at him.  He responded that I was shipping my items more expensively than I should have.  I shrugged.  He fixed it and laughed, saying he was just picking on me.  :(

30 Things Series - How to Fall in Love Without Losing Yourself

The first half of the 30 Things List had things one should have before turning 30. The second half has things one should know. Without further ado, I give you #1 in a post of its own.

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.

Now, I know it is wrong to post other people's published work. However, the story from the book was spot on for me, so I decided to post it in its entirety here until I get busted. My commentary follows the story.

_____________


What you are about to read is a fable, though it's inspired by the all-too-true experiences of many women we know.  It's a cautionary tale about a girl named Jess who had a way of losing herself every time she fell in love.  Love, of course, is a wonderful thing, a grand adventure of the heart.  But while it's thrilling to get caught up in its wake, don't forget to hold on to who you are - or that incredible person might get swept away.  That's what happened to Jess.


Like many young women in their twenties, Jess wanted a lot in life: a bigger apartment, a promotion, new ankle booties, and a loving boyfriend.  She was a meticulous dresser, kept her sunny studio apartment spotlessly clean, and loved her job.  She was curious about the city she lived in and drawn to the many things it offered, like art museums; tiny, interesting restaurants; awe-inspiring concerts; and even, when she was feeling ambitious, the occasional Shakespeare production.  She had a great sense of humor and many friends.  She was always busy on weekend nights.  Jess was a go-getter.  She had a good head on her shoulders.  And she was in love with love.


When Jess fell in love, she fell in love: headfirst, eyes wide shut, throwing herself into the relationship with her entire body and soul.  So much so that every time it happened, she would become a whole new person.


She met Baseball Billy at her corner bar one evening and was immediately smitten with his crooked grin and muscular arms - even though sports bored her to tears and she would have rather spent her Friday nights listening to a violin quartet than doing the seventh-inning stretch.  She stopped eating at her favorite French-Vietnamese place because Billy ate only at "chain" restaurants (to match the one he wore around his neck, she liked to joke).


But Jess's relationship with Billy stopped being a source of amusement to her friends when she started canceling plans, ignoring her book club, and giving away theater tickets to be with him.  They began to complain: What the hell?  When would they see Jess?  But the two stopped dating a few months later, and Jess was heartbroken, especially since she'd spent her entire year's shoe budget on tickets to see the World Series, which she had no interest in seeing.  Thankfully, there was always eBay.  Problem solved, and new platforms to boot.  (Jess liked puns.)


But when she met Sci-Fi Sam, Jess decided to try even harder.  She fell in love with his quirky sense of humor and owlish glasses.  It was a relief to be with someone whose vocabulary wasn't limited to "Babe" and "Get me a beer, would ya, hon?"  She read every one of Sam's far-fetched science-fiction screenplays and learned how to say "I love you" in Klingon without giggling.  On Halloween, she dressed up as Uhura to his Captain Kirk; she fought through the crowds in her uncomfortable Amidala headdress at Comic-Con; and she watched every episode of Stargate and Torchwood on Friday nights with the same intense devotion she used to give Man Men.


More than anything, though, Jess wanted a relationship to last.  She was obsessed with finding The One, and although she was only twenty-nine, she began to have an irrational fear that her city was filling up with smarter, younger, prettier girls every day who would take her right out of the running.  She had to put a ring on it.  It was time to get serious.


The next two years were a parade of boys - and the worlds that went with them.  There was Alt-Rock Andy (suddenly her iPod was filled with bands she'd never heard of, whose song lyrics she mauled when she sang along); next, Hockey Hal (now Fridays were at Madison Square Garden, and Jess discovered there was a certain thrill to pounding the glass and yelling); then Pretentious Pete (an aspiring writer whose short stories she could not understand but pretended to love); and finally, Hipster Harry (for him, she cut her hair into choppy layers to look more like the girls at the clubs they partied in till dawn).


She'd given everything to every boy she'd ever fallen in love with, and after a dizzying and devastating run of it, Jess woke up one day in Harry's drafty loft and looked in the mirror: "Who am I?" she asked, appalled to see a girl with messy hair and tired eyes, wearing a baseball cap and a flannel button-down over a World of Warcraft T-shirt, along with skinny jeans that were so unflattering on her.  What had happened?


But instead of despairing, Jess laughed out loud.  One thing she'd never misplaced was her sense of humor.  Seeing her reflection, she remembered: "I am Jessica.  I like J.Crew cardigans and extra-large Frappuccinos and fresh flowers and clean apartments and real dates with men who care about who I am.  I'm going to call my friends and start paying attention to my work.  I will comb my hair, I will renew my theater subscription, I will go see the new Picasso exhibit.  And I will never, ever again pretend to love video games."  She breathed a deep, stress-melting sigh.  Getting to know Jess again was going to be the coolest thing she'd done in a long, long time.  And the rest, she was suddenly certain, would fall into place.


Which, of course, it did.

_____________

No, I'm not Jess.  Though, I have been.  A long time ago, I posted the quote to my favorite quotes section of my many social networking profiles, "You could be anyone."  No one really noticed, which was fine.  It was more of the first time I awoke to the fact that I had become Jess from the story.  I could be anyone I needed to be for whomever I was with.

Unlike Jess, I never changed myself as a mad-dash attempt to "put a ring on it".  Instead, I'd change myself to be the person I thought the person I was with needed.  Someone very dear to me referred to people like us as "Fixers".  The term fits.  We're drawn to a person for whatever reason - we stay because we believe we can fix whatever is broken about them.

Yeah, I know it sounds very martyr, holier-than-thou, but that's the way it is.  Usually the fixing works out, then the relationship ends - unless the Fixer is caught in a Catch-22 situation where the issue he/she is trying to fix would be perpetuated by him/her leaving.

It took me a long time to learn this one, and even now I'm still working on it (I can tell you all about beer, though it isn't even remotely on my radar of interests).

All I know about this is that it is important to discover you, the real you, figure out what it is you really want out of life, and then be true to what you want.  It's okay to be selfish in this.  After all, you only get 100 years to live.  ;)

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