|Hanging onto my zen with clenched fists...
||[May. 12th, 2009|08:35 am]
I'm sure it comes as a shock to no one that I am, and will continue to be, a giant stressball over the next week. Have been for a couple of weeks now, and won't be able to take a deep breath until Sunday at the earliest. |
It will be fine, it'll all be fine. But it's hard to hang on to that, when the realization that yet something ELSE needs to be taken care of, NOW, and those realizations are coming seven per hour.
Plus, posting that icon, much less seeing pictures that people post, or the one, slightly to my left, where I am carefully not looking right now, remind me that last season was Willow's last. Too late, I looked. Sigh.
Let me distract myself with more mundane things. Like the seven, no eight, as of this morning, tick bites I've got. I'm not even worried about Lyme disease. How can I? Not when I'm already allergic to tick saliva, which means that I've got eight, large, egregiously itchy, semi-infected weeping sores (settled down, boys, I know that's hot, but focus), most of which seem to be right where a waistband, or elastic, or a clothing seam rub.
If you did a pie chart of my head, 80% of it would be trying not to scratch, 5% would be having a good cry over Willow, and 15% would look as if I was having a combination epileptic seizure/nuclear accident in my head.
The Bearded Iris, specifically, which I don't treasure quite as much as my Siberian Iris, the Beardeds are just as the edge of "girly", too-much flower, while the Siberians are more genuine, less engineered looking. My Bearded Iris are the traditional, not the Ruffled. The ruffled...well, they're like ruffles on a tux shirt -- too much. Too cheesy, in my book. It's already a delightfully complex flower -- no need to tart it up, for crying out loud!
I only have one stand of Siberians, and my Beardeds are very, very enthusiastic this year.
So, I am cutting them with abandon. Their lovely lemony scent fills the bathroom at home and my cubicle at work. Contemplating the soft lavender and yellow petals, the complicated petals, the soft fuzzy bee landing strip, the tightly furled blossoms that erupt overnight into full bloom...
Basically been damn near the only thing that's kept me from losing my nut.
I have brought in a couple of different vases and resolved that I WILL have a cut flower of some kind, or even a branch of vegetation here in the veal farm that masquerades as a workplace. Because, boy, it makes a huge difference.