her able hands

Okay, so I apparently have to learn this lesson yet again.

So, yes, universe…I give. Hands up, white flag a-wavin’. There are only so many hours in the day. There are only so many free hours in the week. I remember. I may have forgotten while making all of those grandiose plans to pick vegetables off-site, and do all of that canning and freezing.

But the fact is, I’m out of room in the freezer and I don’t have time to go buy one this weekend, and I don’t have time to go pick beans this weekend. And I don’t have time to can tomatoes, because the pot of cooked down tomatoes I made earlier in the week is still in the fridge waiting to be run through the food mill. And have I mentioned that I’m out of room in the freezer? And that I don’t have time to do any canning? So we’re going to have to just eat the sauce or give it away.

This weekend we have to finish up at the old house so the rent-to-owners can move in next weekend. Period. No time for much of anything else because this is it, the final push and jeepers am I looking forward to crossing “mow at the old house” off the weekend to-do list. Amen.

Will there be beans next weekend? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Right at this moment I couldn’t care less. But, you know, don’t hold me to it.

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I’m one of those morning people who has to get up out of bed, pull on my pajama bottoms, then get a pot of coffee started before I do anything else. Then I usually sit down at my computer to respond to emails or start a blog post while it brews, squinting at the screen through foggy eyes until the first few sips of liquid daytime hit my nerves.

I had a mysterious malfunction with the coffee pot this morning and the cup is full of floaters. I sure hope that’s not an indication of what the day holds.

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This is what has messed with my equilibrium for the past week. I can’t remember when I last slept so poorly for so many days in a row, and the jangled lines of communication rival the worst Mercury Retrograde I’ve ever experienced. It’s interesting that the moon is timed perfectly for a whole lot of change here.

Tyler started high school yesterday, and Lila started her new school on Monday. We found renters for the house and have a bunch of work to do in a very short time frame. It’s the final week for the remaining people who got laid off 3 months ago at work, and once they’re all gone, it’s going to be a ghost town. We’re all trying to help Chris’ mom get a bunch of things sorted out and either sold, scrapped or thrown away. The garden needs some attention. My brain is getting that itchy feeling again that happens when I’m not writing enough. I’m not exercising. I’m eating too much and of not the best food. I’m gaining weight again. I want to learn how to sing, and I practice all the time, but when I sing with other people I go flat and off key so easily and break into a stinky sweat of embarrassment. I keep having bad dreams about people I don’t have a relationship with anymore, all of them men, including my father. All of them branch off from my father.

So yeah, general, normal, everyday stress hopped up on a little extra juice from The Crazy Moon.

C’mon September!

If I knew how to use my camera properly (maybe this winter I’ll read the damned manual I bought a year ago), the photo would be a whole lot better, but I kind of like how the moon matches the street lamp in its intensity and blurriness. It was about 85 degrees outside at 8:30 pm when I took this and the moon looks as hot as the air. As hot as my temper. As my blistered brain. My bad, bad attitude.

I’m feeling unfocused, in need of a week at home alone to get organized without my small efforts being undone by four people living at full-speed. Or maybe I need to make a big pot of chicken soup with carrots and kale from the garden. Or maybe work on my novel. And put some attention on the good things, of which there are a zillion. And maybe I just need to have a good cry. I haven’t had one of those in a long, long time.

Technorati Tags: mental health, full moon

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A quick walkabout in the garden before I went off to the harmony sing last night revealed an almost-ready-to-pick Costata Romanesca growing up out of the cluster of stalks like a, well…you know.

I didn’t have time to grab the camera, but here’s a shot of the same one that I took on Sunday last.

I’ll pick it tonight for sure, along with some more haricots and whatever else looks ripe enough, but I’ll take a picture first so you can see how ridiculous it looks thrusting itself up out of the smallish plant. Indeed, I’m surprised to see such a robust fruit coming off of this vine that just hasn’t grown very big leaves at all. This variety has a very thick base attached to the plant and grows almost straight up with what looks to me like pure male aggression. But a touch of olive oil and garlic in the sauté pan tames him right down.

We’re due for yet more thundering, torrential rain today. It’s been quite the deluge around here, some folks I know who have a rain gauge measured 5.5 inches over two days. But more than 3 of those came down in one hour.

The humidity has knocked me somewhat senseless. I don’t know how I ever lived without central air.

Technorati Tags: zucchini, costata romanesca, humidity, rain

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Ye Old Blogroll was getting a bit unwieldy, so I’ve put it all on its own page again. Up in the top navigation bar, click on Links.

Aaah. That’s better.

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