Slaughter in the Cairns! And Gardening! And Lunchtime Shopping!
The Stinky Terrierist killed a gopher in the park today. Mrs. Skwashy said he carried it around proudly for a while before she took it away from him to BRING HOME TO ME IN A PLASTIC BAG! Couldn't you just totally marry her? Couldn't you? Me too. You'll be delighted to know that we're going into Phase II of spring gardening: the rains have been flattening some flowers, like the ranunculus, because of their long stems and heavy blossoms. The flowers drag on the ground in a tempting colorful springtime snail buffet, so I cut them and take them to work. Some of the earlier flowers are finishing up, like the sparaxis and tulips, the jasmine and clematis; some are still blooming strongly: the bluebells and forget-me-nots, rhododendrons, geraniums, grape hyacinth and cerinthes; some just now beginning: nasturtiums, echiums, alliums, and others I can't remember. The sparaxis are pretty much spent for this year. It's sad to see the end, and to see the flowers drop off and turn to pooh on the gravel path. Oh well. It was wonderful during the bloom. I always get a little depressed afterwards. But! I'm very happy with the sparaxis where they are currently living. They did so splendidly there in their new bed. Maybe instead of making any changes with them I'll move the damn crocosmia bulbs that are next to them, that made such a disappointing show last year. I think the crocosmia need more sun, but, frankly, I can't get very excited about the prospect of improved performance in a type of plant that doesn't thrill me to begin with. Why do I not throw them away? you ask. Because I can't. I'm a big softy lesbo, and I hate to throw the poor stupid things away in the compost where they struggle to bloom in the dark. It's so pitiful! Maybe I should put the crocosmias in a window box where they will die of neglect and overcrowding and starvation, the way I do with the other plants I actually like. It's a quicker death. There's a mosquito flying around my desk. It won't go away. Why MY desk*? Mosquitoes freak me out, man. So, I applied for a position that is a minor promotion from what I am now, and the office manager is here this week from New Jersey to do the interviews. Naturally, this is the first day I dressed informally (pullover turtleneck, big corduroy shirt over it. Total slob.) this week, since it has gotten so bitterly cold** over the past few days. I had forgotten that one's interview invariably falls precisely on the day that one is least prepared for it. In celebration of that, I went shopping on my lunch hour-fraction for a nice jacket and shoes that will reflect my competence and promotability. Something not too good, but respectably anonymous. In addition, I am going to take a moment and list my accomplishments and strong points, and outline my vision for the improvement of this department and how I believe my promotion will contribute to the realization of that vision. Not here in LJ, of course. You all would make fun of me because you are heartless, but I love you helplessly anyway. Also, in case you hadn't already noticed, I am attempting to reduce the number of parenthetical statements I write. Thank you. You're too kind. Thank you. *My Daddy would say, "Cause YOU SO SWEET," but we know that's not particularly true. "You so salty," or "You so garlicky," or even "You so visible in the infrared spectrum" is perhaps more accurate. **Don't you laugh, you midwesterners. It's relative, do you hear me? Relative. Plus: John Cougar Mellencamp, "Heartland", the 2004 election, John Ashcroft, Rush Limbaugh.*** Take that, Midwest, you big silly. ***Some things to blame on the midwest.