Well Laid Plans

I love Sunday mornings.  In the constant pursuit of structuring my life to allow more time for those things that I want to do, protecting my Sunday mornings has been a priority.  This Sunday was no different.

Getting Ready

In preparation for Sunday morning, I spent Saturday evening putting together my Sunday morning bliss pile…a few favorite books I have on the go, my phone for podcasts, a lap desk for writing and my ideas notebook to jot down quotes, miscellaneous notes, things to think about or writing ideas.  All were assembled and sitting nice and pretty on my bedside table.  The only thing missing was my coffee and my laptop. These items would be collected the following morning on my way to a self-care marathon.

I was ready.

Except for one problem…

I forgot to tell the dog.

Without the glasses…my pile was very similar.
Photo by Jade Stephens on Unsplash

Sunday Morning

At 4 a.m., my poor husband readied himself for work and fed our pooches on his way out.  Silently, I appreciated him and rolled over to resume sleeping.  Half an hour later, my dog who is used to receiving a morning frozen treat after her breakfast let me know that no such treat had been forthcoming. She communicated her desire to have it immediately.  My husband had thoughtfully decided not to give it to both dogs because their slurping and gnawing were not conducive to a morning sleep in.  Unfortunately, neither was the barking indicating she had been denied.  The older dog was sleeping with elderly patience until the younger one started. Then, both dogs romped across the bed talking until I roused and gave them their damn treats (sorry, mom).

Take Two

Attempting to procure another hour in my warm haven of blankets, I curled up to sleep, but the slurping and gnawing commenced. I gave up sleeping and grabbed myself a cup of coffee and my laptop.  Lamenting my conscious state, I acknowledge the second-best thing to sleeping in is a quiet morning alone when everyone else is sleeping.  I assumed an upright position to meditate, read and indulge in some writing time.

Frozen treat finished, my dog then decided that the time for her morning nap had arrived and curled up by my side snoring…a picture of rhythmic, noisy paradise.

For 20 minutes.

Peace Interrupted

Another of our morning routines during the weekday after I finish work is to go on a morning walk with the dogs. Since her morning routine was already knocked off kilter due to my staying in my bed, she decided that she had regained enough energy to go for her morning walk.  She proceeded to bark at me and then egg on the other dog to get excited and requested…nope, demanded…her morning walk immediately.

I found myself at a crossroad.  Hang on to my idea of a blissful morning in bed that had been painstakingly planned, shut the bedroom door with my dogs on the outside of it and attempt to proceed with Operation Self-Care with possible barking/scratching at the door.

Or let it go.

With a small expletive, I let it go.  I committed and donned a bra, grabbed the two excited and happy dogs and greeted the day as a fully clothed and reluctantly conscious human being.

Letting Go

It was lovely summer morning, cool, but you could feel the heat coming.  I was grateful we were getting out early.  No other dog was in sight, so we ran around the school field off leash until they indicated they were tired.  Taking them home, I decided to continue enjoying the morning by continuing my walk solo. I dropped the dogs off at home with a big bowl of water and headed back out.

Now 8 a.m., I have already fulfilled half my day in steps according to my Fitbit. In our neighborhood, I stumbled on a beautiful garden that asked passerbys to come in and enjoy their lovely flowers. Inspired, I am now sitting down writing between two sleeping dogs.  I feel sweaty and still a little resentful about the bra but fulfilled in an unexpected way.

Sometimes, self-care does not come in a way you planned, but if you surrender to the flow, it sure feels a lot better than arguing with an 80-pound Rottweiler.

A glimpse of the garden I saw this morning.

Farmer Jane

Check out these beauties.

No, they are not the latest purchase from the local produce store.  They are mine.  Homegrown in our backyard on our hill which has previously only been good for bramble.

Reluctant Gardener

I would like to say that I embrace gardening like the people on my local Facebook gardening group do, but alas, I do not.  I was brought into it kicking and screaming by my mother who wanted to use our backyard to expand her gardening empire.  Citing lack of time and already a challenge to fit creative pursuits into my schedule of snacking on tortilla chips, all my excuses were blown out of the water by a little something called COVID. Suddenly, I had an abundance of time with my work reducing to 50%.  Gardening then seemed like a logical prepper activity to indulge in to stock my bunker.

Now, I would like to say that these little potato gems were the result of countless hours of sweat equity, but aside from digging the garden, I garden like I parent…I assume a little neglect goes a long way.  Darwin would be proud.

Mom Helped A Little

Thankfully due to my mom’s weekly forays over to weed (I did help…I fed her lunch), the garden did not go too wild except for the lettuce. I admired the beautiful leaves until it flowered, and then I continued to admire its floral glory until my husband requested to cut it as it impeded his lawn cutting efforts.  As an aside, I found his request to cut the lettuce endearing as there are many an interaction on my Facebook gardening page unequivocally encouraging divorce to those whose spouse dare prune anything they “thought was a weed.”  Tough crowd, gardeners.  I wonder if a statistical study would find higher rates of single status or criminal convictions among gardeners.  Probably not the latter, they know how to hide the evidence.

A Little Neglect Goes A Long Way

Anyway due to neglect and some intermittent watering, I have come away with a beautiful bounty of potatoes.  I have found my plant.  Lettuce I just could not keep up.  With kale, my timing was always off, and I did not get it before it became a tough big leaf.  Beans and radishes…not my favorite vegetables so no incentive there.  Green onions lovely and delicious, but so unstorably abundant.  The jury is out on the zucchini and squash still; however, potatoes are my kind of gardening.  Little effort for wonderful yield. 

Seriously though, thanks, mom.  I attribute the slightly green hue on my thumb to you.  It is barely perceptible, but it is there. 

When life gives you shit, grow a garden – Unknown (Sorry, mom)

Sadly, not my garden. My weeds are bigger.
Photo by Elias Morr on Unsplash