baa baa black sheep



2:00 p.m.

I had a dream last night I used one of these.


Is it bad I have some sort of sick fascination with these? Enough of a fascination to dream about it. I could never do it, because, GROSS...but...what if it helps sinus pressure? What if it is the secret cure to modern man's sinus woes?


I mean, it's irrigating your face with water. And then all the mucus comes out. And I bet if feels like you're drowning or something. And the mucus.

All the mucus comes out! Into your sink, in a steady stream of water!


Today has been a Yard Work Day. Justin built a PATH out of STEPPING STONES he dug out of our back yard. It is RAD. Also he planted grass. I, on the other hand, bagged up five bags' worth of soggy leaves, trash that has blown into our yard because of the infamous Wyoming wind, and remnants of my wild lilac bush pruning a few weeks ago. Also I dug up dirt and revealed more of our patio, that had been covered by the encroaching yard and said lilac bushes.

Meanwhile the cats ran around like maniacs, fuzzing up and climbing a tree and joyfully pooping repeatedly where I want to plant flowers.

I love working in the yard. The grass is starting to get green. I know it'll be a month or so before the trees begin to think about leaves, but the grass, it is green(er). I keep digging up snow in the front yard to see if my tulips are coming up. They are not. Because of the snow.


Growing things make me happy.

Happier than most other things I do or have done.

It started in third grade, with my flower bed of pansies and hens and chicks. I dug the bed myself. It was by the back door of our century-old farmhouse. Mom drove me downtown and I bought the pansies at Jimmy Thal's. (The following summers I would plant snapdragons and petunias.) I labored mouth-breathingly over that flower bed. I also was in charge of watering the extensive beds that surrounded the rest of the house every day it didn't rain. And the weeding! Oh, the weeding. That first summer I discovered I could crawl inside our enormous lilac bush. I'd crouch there in a little clearing, writing poems and stories, hidden by leaves and blossoms and contentedly fat bumblebees. I'd dig holes and build houses in the cool ground with rocks and twigs and blades of grass.

I wrote a poem there once, circa fourth grade, about a lizard. I remember I talked about his sleepy eyes and the loose skin where his legs met his body, and his paunchy belly.

I think I showed it to my mom's boss.

This was after the summer we secretly took a bunch of lizards we found to Sunday School. They sat on our shoulders, perfectly still, or clinging to the front of my brother's polo shirt, until the ancient Sunday School teachers told us to put them away. It was time to sing the books of the Bible song. "Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus..."

I'm going to go talk to Justin while he waters the seeds.

Neti neti neti,
black sheep


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4:33 AM, June 11, 2006  

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