Saturday, September 02, 2006

saturday morning XXVIII

The giant pile of dirt has been spread across the backyard and I think seed is to follow. It just kind of disappeared -- well, not without great effort on my husband's part -- and the pool is down, and it is looking more and more like a yard again than an okie playground. Its nice to have the space back.

Doc is dying. The girls tell me, this holiday weekend, that he is resting comfortably, but I know what that means. His wife is sitting bedside, waiting.

In an heroic effort of proactivity, I forced my husband to drive me to Waldo Lake yesterday. It wasn't all kicking and screaming and OH, by the way, I drove in my rented Pontiac Grande Prix. Yep, I wrecked my truck. Again. Again. In the briefest moment of inattention, I pulled out in front of an 80 year old woman. She's okay, and I am fine, but the vehicles are not. "Crash" does it onomonopoetic justice. My bad. I know you're not supposed to admit fault, but Stevie Wonder could have seen it was all me. So, off to the body shop, again.

So we drove the silver bullet to the top of the cascades. Pretty up there. I am bound and determined to see all of the available campsites in my corner of the northwest so I can pick THE one, reserve it, and not make the same mistake again (refer to previous post). That camping fiasco was traumatic... but I learned alot about myself. However, I would much rather have enjoyed myself and learned not one damned thing, but such is life.

Waldo lake was anticlimactic. It is nice, but fill it with people on a Labor Day weekend, and the mystery dissipates like so many fumes. Anyway, up the road a-piece is Odell Lake. Bigger and I think better. The search for a perfect campsite was, while not ridiculed -- smirked at by my husband. He said, smiling that unavoidable smile, I can't believe you have to look at campsites for next year already. I explained, or tried to, that I just needed hope. I just needed to see that there are still quiet places in the world where death metal for breakfast isn't the norm. And there are.

I liked Odell. Trapper's Creek campsite. Forest service run. There is a shitty resort not far from there, but Trapper's Creek looks good. Big sites, lots of huge trees. For me, the first consideration is beauty and quiet. (I think I've made my point about that...) And K said he wanted to be able to run the boat full throttle and pull the kids on an innertube if he wanted to and of course if they agreed to it. This was new information for me. Good to know... So, now we need to find a place where both are possible. Odell Lake met both requirements. Big trees, huge lake with boats, fishing and pulling people around; and quiet. But, like all USFS campgrounds, it is first come first served, which makes me nervous. I want what I want. Toddler property rules.

So, I am still looking.

It is Labor Day now (this post has taken some time to finish) we took the boat out today. but first, we did the requisite fall cleanup. We have kicked Sid out of the backyard. With the pool put away for another year, the beautiful paver 10x10 exposed, the remaining yard was pure dogshit. And smelled like it. Sitting on the deck was no longer enjoyable. And Sid, being the social animal he is, would crap for you any time you wanted to sit outside in his yard. I am happy to report that he has the side yard to defile while we re-seed the yard. I'm hoping to bar him from the backyard for good.

In front, I had planted a eucalyptus tree in the flower bed, thinking it would be a nice little shrubbish thing, but that sucker is huge. They weren't kidding when they said "tree". But then, why would they be? But anyway, I moved it to the end of the front retaining bed, and hope it will not blow out the cement wall. It grew 4 feet in a year. I had no idea-- I just liked the leaves.

Well, the walkways are edged, swept and de-mossed, leaving them about 8" wider. Perennials are cut back, dry patches watered and seeded, and the hanging baskets are still awaiting demolition. They are still in bloom, but I'm watching them closely. My husband thinks I'm brutal. I murdered three unsuspecting Hostas and an azalea this morning and I have my eye on a fern that isn't doing well. Its botannical euthanasia, in my view. They wouldn't want to live like that --all brown and crumbly. I'm helping.

So, back to work tomorrow.

My yoyo quilt is coming right along.

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