Weeding (aka-Exploits of the Mad Gardener)

My family has never had a real firm grasp on reality. Imagination has always been more than encouraged. My being a writer has just taken this to the next level of weirdness (my parents do a fairly good job of keeping their own oddities under wraps from most of the world.) Why am I telling you this? Well its in part to explain a little how titles like “The Evil Groundskeeper” (my Dad’s personal favorite) and “The Mad Gardener” come into existence.

Yesterday evening my father decided that since he wanted to do something constructive for the day (since he hadn’t helped with either the picture taking or the breakdown in the sanctuary). He also decided that the best way to do this was to go out and spray weed killer (he’d been talking about it for weeks), and that it would be a good time for my mom and I to come out and work in the garden (to by fair, my mom had been talking about going out to weed, and I’d said I’d help her.) After a little coaxing, we go out. And here begins another adventure of the Mad Gardener (I have the nickname because somehow it always seems to fall to me to take down the biggest, nastiest weeds/out of control shrubbery. Ask me some time about killing forsythia).

When I go out to garden, I generally wear a hat because I burn way too easily. Mom says it makes me look like the Indiana Jones of gardening. And that’s what set the tone for our time in the garden yesterday. If I was Indiana Jones, then my dad was Dr. Death (spraying poison no less), and the adventure we were trapped in would have to be the Garden of Death. Ah the adventures one can have ripping out weeds, avoiding poison and generally causing death, destruction and mayhem. Rapture, the Mad Gardener strikes again. And it looks like we have a serious mole problem. Note to self, put down more mulch.

Also, I have more word on the Girl Scout front. I called the lady I’m taking over from and it looks like I might not have as much to go on as I was led to believe. She sounded like she didn’t have much of a plan worked out, so I might be doing a lot more work than I originally thought I was going to be, and I was kind of wary of that! I guess we’ll see when I meet with her on Wednesday.

The only really good news comes from the story front. I finally got some editing done today, and maybe I can finish tonight. Don’t count on it, though. I really hate editing. So we’ll just see. After I’m done with editing I still have another chunk I need to write for the beginning, and then I’m sending it back to Mornara (you lucky beta, you) to see if this round is better. After that I’ll be sending it off to other people to read. If I’m lucky I’ll be looking for places to send it off to before then end of the month.

Remember, reality is relative. Or your relatives are your reality. Whichever is more amusing.

Comments are always appreciated. They make me feel loved

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3 comments

  1. Yeah, see, my relatives are quite certainly not reality.

    Our gardening conversations generally involve long discourses on the Evils of the Giant Mega-Corporations Who Are Quietly Taking Over the World Through the Use of–OH LOOK A CONTRAIL!!! POISON! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! *scamper scamper, conversation resumes from shelter*–by Use of Genetically Modified Organisms Created by All the Nasty People Who Support Gay/Lesbian Rights, the Democratic Party, Muslims, Other Races, Satanists and Pretty Much Anyone But Us.

    Sadly? The above is not really exaggeration. Those contrails man. They’ll get to ya.

    1. What’s really fun are relatives who are so liberal that they’ve almost come full circle into conservatism. However, when you throw them together with your ultra conservative relatives, it’s like waiting for the fireworks to happen.

  2. Ah gardening, sadly my family never did it together. My mom did most of it while we were at school, and if I EVER pulled a weed it was because I was getting paid. Cindy on the other had thought it was therapeutic and would occasionally ravage the flower beds.

    Now however with my own house I am the sole savior of my yard and garden. Again though I am by myself and the best I can compete with the livelness of your Indian Jones adventure is I”ll put a Harry Potter on my Ipod and sit my dock outside and listen 😀 It’s magaical *wink*

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