Garden

Some of you may not have believed me when I said that our garden was running rampant, but growing. Indeed, it is, and it's so rampant, I'm starting to find it almost ugly. Not that I'm a huge fan of the perfectly manicured, exquisitely trimmed and formed garden, but this is getting ridiculous. The trouble is, I don't know what to do...



Here is the front of the house, with lilies, sandhill cherry, ground cover, and other things. I think we need to trim the cherry, but I'm not sure how, and the lilies are massive! I don't think they can be cut back.



Our uncentred "flower bed" in the lawn. I hate this bed. I don't hate the hostas or the lilies, per se, but I abhor the bed completely. Almost more than the ground cover that's "lining" the sidewalk blocks.



The side of the house, with more sandhill cherries, and a climatis that isn't doing so well.



This is perhaps the most distressing part of the rampant garden. There was a stump here all winter. Now that it's summer, it's become a bush. The stump refuses to give up.



Not only that, there's a hosta in there, getting buried in all the bush-ness of the reincarnated tree.



Last but not least, the lilac bush. This bush did receive a judicious trim in the spring, but it still has taken over its immediate area. My car makes friends with it every morning. It rubs against the side of the house with any strongish wind. And we did trim it! I swear!



I'm not entirely sure what to do about this problem either. *snuggle*

These pictures are posted as a cry for help. While I realize that we needed to see what came out of the ground this year, I have no idea what to do now that things have come out of the ground. Any assistance or advice is most sincerely appreciated!

A possibly scary post

If you don't want to hear about my breasts, stop reading now.

So the dress that I bought for Sheila and Nathan's wedding is lovely, but with a low-cut back. I realized upon buying it that new "hardware" was required, and would probably have to be ordered, so yesterday, I trundled down to the local specialty women's garment store with the dress and the thought of having to spend at least $150, if not more, on something to support me for a day. I showed the dress to the salesladies, and they both gave me frowns.

"Put it on," they said. "Let's see what we can do."

So I did. First try was an extender sort of thing, but that didn't bring the straps down far enough at all.

"Bustiers won't go down any lower either," they said, "and with an 'E,' strapless is next to useless."

We thought for a while. "Just..." one of them said. We looked at her. "Take the bra off," she said. "See how that looks."

Okay then. But you know the reason I'm here is because I don't want/can't go without, right? Back to the changeroom, some contortions, and then I came back out.

Their consensus was that I looked fine. "I know it feels heavy," said the one. "But you don't really need one. You're young. Your breasts are perky."

...

Perky?!

"Spend some time walking around the house like that. Get used to it."

sigh

So instead of a $200 bustier, I walked out with seven pairs of stick-on nipple covers for $7. I felt, then, that I could justify spending close to $100 on materials for a knitted shawl, as the one I was working on was turning out, but just not the way I'd hoped for the dress.

Those of you who are coming to the wedding will now know my deep, dark secret. But it's hard not to share a word like "perky."

Waiting for the next shoe

On the heels of my grandfather's passing came a few other, not nearly as large and encompassing but still, bad events.

Ferrari, our bad-tempered red bulldog of a betta, went to that great big rice patty in the sky the weekend I was in Winnipeg. We believe that his jump out of the tank and to the floor during feeding time a few weeks before was a mitigating factor. He is sorely missed. However, rather than break down the tank, since it was already cycled, we brought another betta in to fill the void. Beamer is a mottled turquoise character, who can't seem to decide what on earth is going on. He is a little skittish, but he's settling in well. Ducati, I'm happy to report, is doing fine, though we've had some deaths in our 20g tank as well. We are less emotionally attached to those fish, but I wish I could confirm that it's the heat that killed them...

Also the weekend I was in Winnipeg, Mike was reinjured at work. After a couple of days off and an aborted attempt to return, he is back on Workers' Compensation until at least the end of the month. Around the same time, my back began acting up, so neither of us have been getting much in the way of sleep for the past two weeks. On a brighter note, Mike has been whittling his way through a list of small, light chores while he's been at home, and my back seems to be stabilizing again. I have actually been able to get books back into the library, and non-fiction is organized. Progress is slow, but steady. It's just... the house isn't clean. Maybe this weekend...

Perhaps I'm starting (starting?) to get a little paranoid, but I can't help but be looking over my shoulder waiting for the next thing. Someday we'll catch a break, I'm sure, and it may be because I'm so tired, but I feel like I'm just waiting for another shoe, another bad-luck thing. I think I should stop that, but I'm not sure how right now.

Perhaps I should try to dwell in the happy news? Mom returns from Denmark this weekend, and my grandmother has been moved to a nursing home, so the whole family can stop worrying so much on that note. We've discovered the wonderful Saturday St. Albert Farmers' Market. I bought a dress for Sheila and Nathan's wedding (no shoes, though), and have started knitting a shawl to go with it. Hopefully that turns out. The weather is nice. Our garden is running rampant, but at least it's growing. I'm getting used to the colour in the bathroom, though I'm wondering about doing the touchups once we reseal the vanity. Chores are getting done, slowly, piecemeal. All my books are out of boxes. We go to Calgary the August Long. I'm taking a week off at the end of July.

...

*Ness peers over her shoulder. There must be something coming...*