My Black Thumb

I am seriously considering ripping out my entire garden and starting new. I just cannot stand the disorganized mess that I have. The English Garden effect is not working and I have no idea where to start. I think I have the ugliest garden in town. It may be due to my "plunking" or due to the fact that when we moved here, I had no idea what I was dealing with. Two conical evergreens need to be moved, I want simplicity and romance, with little effort. My garden is South facing, endures extreme heat, and sun.

Fence Hoppers

These pics are out of sequence, but the blokes made it over without getting their bums attached to the fence. When the fence is locked, it is a long walk to the other side of the arena where there is access from the grounds. My last fence experience was a bad one, the seat of my pants caught on the upper barbs and my bottom became exposed (I was eight). I will never do that again unless I am wearing a pair of tough ducks.

where is my blog?

Do unto others. . .

Read my last post. . . Okay, the first pic is half of what was originally sitting on the swing, the candy tube was underneath the swing. The second pic was the pic I took when I realized. . . .hey. . . I should document this crap, after I had removed some of the glass (what was in the bag). Honest to God, I am fed up with difficult people who just seem to think it is okay to do anything, just because they are bored. I realize that yes, you should always support your children, but when they or you are known to be destructive and irritating to others, maybe it is time to do some inward reflection. Ask yourself "How would I feel if this was done to me/my kids/my property?" I am not jumping to conclusions or getting worked up over a pound of glass that was left on my child's swing. This has been 5 years of dealing with Bullshit from these people. This could have really hurt my kids, or someone else. Further more, I don't think it is right for other's to have to put up with renegade children, who don't know how do behave on constant basis. In some ways it was a "good thing" that there was a copious amount of glass there. If there was only a small bit and more inconspicuous, it could have easily been sat upon. This is the first time that I have ever confronted these people about an issue. I don't think it will help, but venting (assertively) sure made me feel a lot better.

Huh?

My daughter came in upset today, she told me that the little boy (who is known for being a terror) put a bunch of glass on the seat of her swing today. I was perplexed. What on earth would make someone do this? It sounded so ridiculous, so I went outside to investigate. I was expecting to see A piece of glass, as in one. What I found shocked me, there was a pile of neatly stacked broken pieces of window panes, old pieces of mason jars tidily arranged on the seat of the swing. It reminded me of the game you play with the blocks. She told me the little boy said with a friend "What happened to your swing?" then as the little rotter ran away he said "We did it!". . . Unfortunately this is not the first time we have had issues with the family, and normally I just ignore it. It seems that again, they have too much time on their hands, and love drama. I personally cannot be bothered with this obtuse bunch. They were very friendly when we moved here, then a woman came up to me and said that they were spreading rumours that we were drug dealers. (As if. . . If we were drug dealers then we would have had a better car, money to renovate, and not stuggling at the time to pay the mortgage). I immediately stopped interacting with them. This irriated them. They also like to (from what people say), phone Children's Aid Society on people who they do not like. I guess this acts as a deterrent to people actually complaining about them. This time, as the "attack" was directed at my daughter, I talked my husband into coming over with me and speaking to the Grandfather. He denied it, the son denied it, (but earlier the sister of the little boy, admitted to him saying he did indeed do it to a neighbour). I was fed up. I said I would appreciate this not happening again, we respect their property (my kids do not run amok and terrorize them), and that we ask the same. Furthermore, broken glass is dangerous. I was polite, but assertive and also briefed him on the property lines etc. This guy is a total putz. Sweet to my face and then was heard briefing his grandchildren accusing us of being liars. Wayyyyyyy too much time on their hands. They should enroll their children in some etiquette lessons, and maybe some parenting lessons that provide the skills for positive reinforcement, instead of yelling in Hick Language at them. We can't even enjoy our backyard.

Published Writings, Essays Etc.

Okay, the guys at York University took my innocent letter to the editor and made it into a PDF. It was made into a puzzle. I must admit, the pictures add a certain flare. It was published a while ago, but I am quite proud of my serious writing. Here is the link: http://www.yorku.ca/earmstro/imagine/imagine07.pdf Oh, you are very welcome Eric Armstrong. (You didn't have the chance to thank me for the use of my letter). :) Actually, Mr. Armstrong was kind enough, after I contacted him, to link it back to my blog. All is well. I will add more scans and links at another time.

I ingested a hollyhock

Okay, I took the plunge and ate it. It was bland, it was comparable to eating wet crispy cardboard. It would be a great addition to salads though, because of the colour factor. Today, I also laughed at a Mennonite's sausage. I couldn't help myself. I was buying a basket of tomatoes from a Mennonite that I had accosted a few weeks ago travelling by horse and buggy up the road. He had corn in the back of his wagon and I ran up and asked him if he could sell me a couple dozen. (It was the worst corn I had ever had in my life, but that was my fault due in part because I hadn't kept it cool enough, and it went mealy). When I went to buy the tomatoes, he said "Would you like to try my sausage?" I couldn't help but giggle. Especially considering the size of the bangers. "Those are some large sausages." I said. "Maybe next time". Good Lord, why do I have to find everything funny?

Hollyhocks

I have an addiction to hollyhocks. I think they are the most beautiful flower. Lush, odd, spiky, old fashioned. The flowers look like something you could set up house in and be quite comfortable, if you were a mini person. You can eat them. I haven't tried, but I will. I expect them to taste bland, but we shall see. Tomorrow I am going to take the plunge and ingest one. I may even take a few pics. That is how I ended up in this tiny town. Hollyhocks. I saw some growing by the side of my yellow brick house, poking up through the huge ferns, beckoning me to buy this money pit with my husband. It looked like a house in England that I had visited. If I wasn't a sucker for hollyhocks, I would be living the high life in a city. I long for public transit, homeless people. . . what ever happened to Crazy Mary who yelled at the pedestrians at Dundas and Richmond. There was another woman who pushed around a shopping cart. . . .she almost looked normal from a distance, and then upon closer inspection, her lips were a gash of red lipstick and with her white hair and pinhole eyes she would startle you. Out of nowhere she would start yelling or having an oration in the middle of the sidewalk. Or the professor. . .he was another really neat character. In the suburbs of Oakridge there was an actual man living in a Goodwill Donation Box. This year, I am disappointed in my hollyhock crop. My black ones did pop up, and I have a very nice coral one. Oodles of pinks and almost a red. I love my malva and my other mallows as well. I just wish I could make them look better from the road. I seem to plant in a disorganized fashion. I need a professional garden organizer, who can tell me what to plop and where. My hibiscus flowers are budding, I can't wait for them to pop. Last year the flowers were as big as my face. It seems that the weather has not been kind to my hollyhocks, most of them blew over in the wretched storms that we had, and with the summer heat, they seem to be at mid fall stage already. Then again, I have heard the flocks of birds in the trees, and again it just seems to premature. Soon the kidlets will be back in school and the leaves will be falling and I will be left staring at the skeletons of trees. Tree bones and mushy pumpkins.

Monday

Mondays. . . I remember Mondays with fondness. Growing up, my Dad had to work on Saturdays, instead his weekend was Sunday and Monday. Monday became the day that Mom would take a day for herself and take the Oakridge Bus up to Fairweathers in Downtown London, or go to the old Central Library. My brother and I would come home from school for lunch, though howling winds and torrential downpours. Dad would always serve us either grilled cheese sandwiches (gurl cheese. . . that's how I used to pronounce them), or ham and mustard sandwiches (ick), sardines and tomato soup. The bread had to be white, at this time in his life he had not caught the fiber buzz. The mustard, an electric yellow smear. I can only now imagine him taking the time, degreasing his hands from the Mini, the MG, Mini Wagon, or the Austin America that he was working on (we used them for daily drives, the mini's), and then making sandwiches that my brother and I despised. My brother had a large head in his early years and he was short. I remember him sitting in front of his sandwich and picking at it. It is odd how you remember things as a kid. When I talk to my father about the Monday Lunches now, he gets a bitter look, and then softens. "Those were darn good sandwiches, I made them for you"~~~~~~~Thanks Dad. :) Oh crum, it's Tuesday, not Monday.

Dis Is Mi Dem Der Pug

This is my pug. . .I just love pugs. Her name is Stella. She has one of the greatest noses in the world. I love dog noses, they look like a sliced mushroom. Spongy and squishy. She hates when I kiss her, she will let my husband kiss her, but not me. She has a defense mechanism, where she will quickly turn her head, yawn and then slap me with her paw.

People Have Too Much Time On Their Hands

Never in my life did I think that I would be living in a small town, the type of town that Alice Munro writes about, where secrets are buried deep, gossip flies off tongues like high school Girls, is twisted like a barbed wire fence and where the "sweet" smell of manure hangs in the air like a wet blanket. Never in my life did I think that I would be considered rural. . .Lord knows I have a heck of a time even pronouncing rural . . .rurrallllll RUralll rurrl. In this town, it seems to have become habit this summer to report "anonymous" tips under the guise of being concerned, but really it is of a malevolent streak. I had a building inspector tipped off about ripping off a small front stoop and replacing it with a stable one. I wrote a letter to the editor: Letter to the Editor I would like to express my thanks to a resident of the Blyth area in regards to a decrepit tiny front porch being demolished and soundly re-erected. It is a blessing to know there is a vein of concern that runs deep in this community. It is also a comfort to know that a citizen may use a pseudonym (a name, belonging to an unaware neighbour) when reporting a "supposed" building code violations. A follow up letter from the Township was received and presented to us by the surprised neighbour (who was falsely named as the complainant). As you could not receive this letter, or feedback from the Township, and misguided worry may be consuming you, we would like to inform you that the front porch did not require a permit, and it conforms to and exceeds all codes and bylaws. I am sure you can sleep more soundly at night knowing that the new porch is safe, it is now not dilapidated. When it rains or snows people will not slip on the slimy texture of rotting wood, it does not have cracks and slope anymore, steps actually run to the front door, and, as an added bonus, it actually has a railing. This porch never did conform to building standards prior to our purchase of the property. As the new owners of this property, we would also like to inform you that all involved know your true identity, and it may be in your best interest to take up a productive hobby, in which you can use your abundant excess time and lack of imagination (one ought to use a completely false name,instead of one already in use, for reporting purposes, if you are too ashamed to use your own). Hobbies performed could include the art of fava bean procurement and display, or erecting seasonal scenes using suet as a medium. Regards, 10:00 pm I just had a neighbour call me and tell me that another anonymous tip was directed at the people who received the letter regarding our porch. The anonymous caller had told the police that a young boy across the street was riding his (I don't know what you would call it- it's like a dirt bike) on the main street, when he wasn't~his mother was outside while he took the bike up to get gas which was a total distance of about 40 feet on a side street, she was out on the porch at this time and was watching him the whole time. The police interrogated the young boy without the presence of his parents-a day later, while the parents were at work, (isn't there a law regarding this)? He was at home alone at the time, and was upset by this. It is probably the same "anonymous" person who complained about the porch. For shit's sake. If you have an issue, don't be such a slimy subcutaneous idiot, and be direct. . . actually talk to the people you take issue with, and / or stop making up stories to drum up drama in your own insignificant lives. I feel sorry for the little kid (who happens to be an awesome kid), and the parents. What is wrong with people? Growing up in a CITY, this stuff never happened. No one cared. I love the city, you could have a seizure on the street and people would just step on you. You are anonymous, and nobody seems to give a shit, and everyone has a life. Everyone is nicely self absorbed and living in their own reality bubbles. Okay I am making generalizations, but, give me a break, these people are just calling in stuff so they can hear their calls on their police scanners-, woohoo, thrill of the day.

I lost my blog

I lost my blog. It was a great blog too- pictures and everything, about how my car and truck got squashed by a 125 year old maple tree that came down in a wretched storm. I lost all my passwords, thinking that I would remember them. Lesson learned, don't expect to remember things when you are in "brain atrophy post catastrophe". I feel like Holden Caulfied in The Catcher In The Rye who broke the Little Shirley Beans record. Well the tree has been removed, my truck has been fixed, the car is a write off. I still have the stump to prove it~~but no replacement car. It was a Ford Tore Ass, and while I do adhere to being a Chevy Girl, it was a pretty nice car. My stinky tenant next door moved out two weeks ago and now I am stuck with a rental unit that reeks of dog and cat pee. She actually left the poor cat (outside for months), I had to phone animal control on the weekend. I thought she had taken it with her. After trying to contact her (she wouldn't pick up the phone, she probably has call display, and she still owes rent). The other thing I found were copious amounts of used Q-Tips, why on earth couldn't the person get up, off the couch, turn away from Dog the Bounty Hunter for a nano second and put them into the garbage is a mystery. Then again, whenever she did allow us entry there was garbage strewn everywhere, so maybe she was just confused and mistook her home as a dumpster. It was like the poo woman from Oprah was living next door. . ." I think I will keep this poo nugget until it gets old and mouldy. . .just in case I will need it in the winter time to burn as an alternate form of heating fuel." Note to self. . . if I ever get that rentable again. . .which seems like the unobtainable quest right now. . . make sure to do credit, reference and an actual lease that has "landlord right to inspect clause written in to it" (Supposedly TPA will have this anyhow in September or October 2006). We have wonderful tenants in our other house, people that are clean, great dispositions, and are genuinely helpful. They really keep an eye on everything and I truly appreciate them. Unlike the maynards that were there before. Animal Control couldn't come out until today though. Meanwhile what had been a formidable cat had been reduced to an antisocial, pus eyed, neurotic feline who was taking shelter underneath the rental unit. I really get irate when it comes to stupid, self absorbed (ooops, I am labelling)people, owning animals. You can take your load of campfire wood, but you can't take your cat? She did take her dog though. . .which she shouldn't be allowed to have after viewing the state of the home. While I was at the dump, (after having to remove all the carpeting) I asked guys if they had any type of humane device to catch the feline in. (You just never know in these small towns what people carry up their sleeves). I have seen a man walking down the street with a hamburger in his back pocket and a cob of peaches and cream corn sticking out of his sock. I digress. ;) Earlier in the day, I had sat at the point of the entrance that the cat was using, with a cat carrier, a can of salmon, a cup of kibble and a stick to try to lock the cage if it did enter. I felt like I was fishing. Kitty bobbed up out of the dark, and would hesitantly edge it's way to my "trap" and then run away. Then I would see it's one eye glinting at me in the dark. (It does have two eyes, but I could only see the one). This repeated itself about four times all the while, I was on the phone with the OSPCA and the wife of the local animal control man. (They asked me if I had "saved" the carpeting. "No" I replied "but I have a hell of a lot of pictures"). My God, all one has to do is walk within 15 feet of the trailer (yes. .. it is a mobile home) and smell the rank reek. It is a combination of stale cigarettes, old urine, and grease. I have been airing it out since July 1 2006, and the place still smells like a cess pool. Today I decided that I will shut the place up again and run the dehumidifier through it. I noticed on July 1 that there was a liquid in the cold air return. I wonder if someone peed in it as well. I need a HASMAT suit. Last night when we returned home from a vehicle hunt there was a havahart trap sitting by my porch. The nice man from the dump had left me the device (he left his card). What an angel. So I baited it and this morning I received a call from one of my nice neighbours saying that I have caught the cat. I hadn't even had my coffee yet, I ran outside in my pyjamas and saw the poor thing. It was scrawny looking, it's eyes were wet, and it had tipped over the salmon, kibble and water. It also looked like the clouds were heavy with rain, so I tried moving the trap to an area where it would be sheltered. It was howling, and hissing. I tried to talk to it (The Pussy Whisperer), with no avail. OSPCA and Animal Control man were called, and later on it was removed. I told it I was sorry. I just can't take in anymore animals. It will probably be put down, which is best. It had been neglected for a long time, and probably couldn't be socialized, and it was sick. I hope Kitty Karma bites this ex tenant on the rear end and everything comes back on her three fold (reminder to self~ use your protective circle this time).