The Happy Gardener

Untitled It's just at that time -   a little before dawn, before the day breaks in  full of thoughts and plans. As my mind begins to wake and remember its worries - things to do, things to accomplish all in a hurry. That's when I see you  out of that corner where the blanket meets the pillow - out of that window. I hear you breathe in the still of the room. Deep and reassuring, steady and soothing. So I let the moment linger close my eyes for a little longer and dwell on the wonder, the perfection, of being here.              finis It is the penultimate night of the year and I have come to this conclusion : that life needs to be lived feverishly, eagerly - without postponements and maybes and laters. Does not mean you should be chasing sunrise every night or killing yourself with tons of activities and plans but you should just be very involved with every moment - nothing dispassionate or perfunctory about it. If you are taking a nap, relish it. If you

We are no great epic, you and I. We're the short story everyone knows - with little twists and a reasonably happy ever after. We are not a great poem - more a simple octet with a predictable rhyme and meter. The lake, not the ocean. The neighborhood woods, not the deep forest. But isn't there a beauty and comfort in all these - familiar and yet something new in every light and every season?

You may have heard of housemaid's knee. And tennis elbow and tailor's seat. Well, I have a needy-cat's lap. Ever since C went off on his work trip to the other side of the globe, every time my rear hits a flat surface, there's little F is my lap. In fact, she is on my lap right now purring up a storm. At this point, I believe she's doing it just to spite me. It's been a good weekend again - I didn't rake any more leaves, though. If you want to know why, I should tell you about The Tragedy. Harden your heart before you proceed. Last weekend was lovely. Both Saturday and Sunday mornings turned out be fine, sunny, crisp Fall mornings with just the right temperature to wear a light jacket or a full sleeved shirt and work in the yard. Brimming with enthusiasm and pleasant thoughts, I spent 2-2.5 hours each day raking in the leaves in the front and side yards, loading up the wheel barrow and making several trips to the woods behind the house to dump the raked

So to celebrate being done with regimented-weekends-dedicated-to-wedding-planning-and-seeing-everything-in-terms-of-to-do lists, I decided to indulge in that hobby on mine : spending a lot of time and effort in doing something a wee bit craftsy, even if there  no immediate need for/benefit from it, just because I decided it was a good idea and have some time. C has had these two behemoth candles for a while. They are of a Lime Mojito flavor which I am not particularly partial to. I've lit these whenever I got a chance since I've known him and they just will not be done. Every time I light 'em for a while and get encouraged by the sight of all that molten wax, they just solidify back up without any significant reduction in the quantity. You see, these candles are housed in big glass jars. So, a while ago I devised a scheme to rid us of them without making me feel guilty for throwing away a perfectly good thing. I decided I would throw away the wax ( so a little bit of gui

I am taking these Yoga classes every Monday, thanks to a good friend. It's an hour of good Yoga - not too easy, not too hard and overall relaxing. The room is essentially dark and there are these Christmas lights kinda things that are along the corners of the floor which makes for a very cosy/holiday-ey setting. Anyways, at the end of the session, our instructor usually does a short reading. Now, I will admit that back in the day I was very supercilious about this whole business. I'd think "These hippies - trying to make Yoga sound all hippy-ey..." but I'm a calmer, wiser person now. Also, I've realized that I was acting like a jerk. Let me make this clear - there definitely are some yoga places that are messed up. The crazy ones with the room temperature set to a 100 degrees or the "power" ones where they try to add a whole cardio element to the session and end up making you feel more stressed than when you started - I am still supercilious about

It is difficult to blog now. I've lost the habit of prattling on about random things to the world at large. Maybe it is because I now can prattle on about random things to someone right here at home. Poor C. Regardless - or to use one of my favorite words - irregardless, I've decided that get back, I shall. Speaking about getting back, I got back to working out and to running especially. I've clocked 11 miles since last week. It isn't much, I know but given that all of this is on the treadmill and the fact that I'm still trying to figure out what, if any, part of running I like - you'll agree that it is something. Let's see if I can keep this up. Wait! I might just have figured this out : maybe it's just laziness and poor sporting skills. We all know Newton said something about bodies in motion staying in motion. Well, with running, if you can get into some kind of rhythm, you can keep it up for a little while without really trying too hard or think

Now that the dust had settled and the haze cleared away, let's assess the damage. I've signed away my unaccountability along with my single status. In return, I now share a lovely home and two odd but devilishly cute cats with a fellow human being. I get a victim for a lifetime of kitchen experiments and someone who'll have to bear with me as I complain endlessly about some minute issue. Sounds like a good deal. I feel fairly confident about this partnership. It is based on a solid foundation of shared love for pjs and naps. Of complete disinterest in what the cool kids are doing. We are also compatible in our differences, mind you. Where I am incapable of handling makeup  (my attempts at smoky eyes is a funny story for later) or dressing fashionably, he lacks the ability to care for or notice such things. And where he is afflicted with a need to wake up early on weekends and charge through household chores with gusto, I am blessed with pretty thick skin and an ability

The brown girl is back from all her travels. And the reason you didn't hear from her sooner is because C, the slave driver, got her to "help" with his basement work. OK, this post is beginning to sound racist and even my not-so-strong conscience won't let this go. No no, a bunch of things have kept me occupied, the foremost of which is inertia. I seem to have given up regular blogging a while ago and I just couldn't get myself to get my laptop out after dinner, etc to write about something uninspired and uninformative. Not that such things bothered me when I was on the blog train. Anyhoo, to start things off, here's something from recent history.                                                ***************** It's 2:16 AM and I am eating a lemon-orange mini muffin that I am only minimally interested in. My right knee feels weird and I'm wondering if I am suffering anaphalactic shock and how one spells anaphalactic. This is what life has come to