Yesterday was Weed Appreciation Day. And, yes, I know I mentioned recently that I have spent days (weeks) weeding. That said, I don’t have a great big problem with certain weeds in the grass. I’d be happy if my entire yard was covered with creeping wood sorrel. It doesn’t have to be mowed, it makes a little yellow flower.
Or, wood violets. Cute, heart shaped leaves, pretty purple flowers.
Or even fleabane, evening primrose, and wild onions.
All except the fleabane (according to Rohde's Old English Herbal, it has medicinal qualities - 'Fleabane bound to the forehead is a great helpe to cure one of the frensie.') are edible. All make flowers. None survive our hot summer but all return without any encouragement. I’d be fine with any of those IF they would agree to stay out of my flower beds.
So far, that has not been the case and so I continue to dig weeds from the flower beds.
Yesterday however, I did something I genuinely HATE to do. I went clothes and shoe shopping. Aaaarrrggggghhhhh!!!!!
So, first of all – I live in Wharton. We don’t have too much clothes shopping here. That meant I had to go to the closest place – Rosenberg. It’s not far 30 miles. The only problem – you have to get on Hwy 59. It’s under construction. Has been for under construction for years and will be for many more looooong years. You know what construction and highway mean, right? Not moving traffic. A trip that should take 25-30 minutes, taking 45-50 minutes, mostly stopped.
Then, have ya looked for clothes lately? Noticed the “new” spring colors – dull orange, olive green, drab blue – all looking as though they’ve been soaked in tea making the colors even more dreary, flat, lackluster, plain, icky. Hellllllooo – spring – bright cheery colors – noooo, none of those.
I went looking for something to wear to my granddaughter’s pending high school graduation in May. Something not designed for a 12-year old. Something without 90% spandex (some of us have reached an age where bulges, bumps, and love handles are not attractive to the general public). And you know, I’m pretty sure I had this conversation same time last year. As I recall, last year everything reminded me of the 1970’s with psychedelic colors and paisley prints. This year we’ve regressed further to the 1960’s. All the dresses were sheaths (which are not bad, well except for the colors, but need a body with lifted boobs, flat belly, and tight butt - sigh, no – none of that). Or, late 60’s with calf lengths (those make me look 4 feet tall and wide). Fine! I didn’t want a dress anyway.
I did find a pair of cargo shorts – one – one pair in my size – only one – lots of other sizes – one. Sigh. So, I guess, it wasn’t a total loss. (Hmmmmm – wonder if I can wear cargo shorts and a t-shirt? No, probably not.)
However, shoe shopping was a whole other deal. No, nope, none, nada. Nothing even close to a size I can wear. Argh! (OK, cargo shorts, t-shirt and tennis shoes – no, probably not again.)
Then, I came home and made brownies!
29 Mar 2019