Deviant Dispatches

Last week, I ordered several books that are out of print on this glorious invention, the internet. This doesn't have nearly the same soothing effects of wandering about a used bookstore for several hours, though it does have better end results (if your goal is to actually get the books you want, which is not always my purpose in such heavenly realms). The nice side effect of ordering books online is the excitement to greet the mailbox at end of day. Rather than flyers that might (but never do) have coupons for things you need, piles of bills, and bribes that would turn on you later if you were dense enough to take them, there might be a package with your name on it and, within, brilliantly arranged bits of tree pulp with just the right ink upon the pages. It's even more exciting when they're books you've wanted for years. For example, the only one of five that I've received so far is Lawrence Ferlinghetti's Pictures From the Gone World . I love his unusual

Our can opener has recently decided it's only going to work when it suits its purposes, and it will stop and throw a moody tantrum for no reason halfway through a task. I can't decide if it's acting like a hormonal teenager or a temperamental two-year old. Truth is, it's closer to being a teenager. I don't remember how long we've had that thing. It was with us in New Mexico--might have been purchased there. Or it might be the same can opener I've had since the beginning of college, which would make it older than my relationship with Spousal Unit. A decidedly weird thought. One way or another, we could use a new one. But I'm at that phase right now where a tiny, necessary purchase like that feels like over-the-top spending. (Never mind that we just went out for a fancy dinner on Saturday; that's from a separate vault in my mind, which has been drained.) I get like this over the weirdest stuff. I sometimes suddenly reach a point at which any spen

As the weather gets nicer, the weekends get better and better. Kale egg bake The cats get full use out of all the windows (though Titania is still getting a bit too much use out of the basement ceiling, which leads to her getting stuck above the furnace and in the walls). Oberon gets terribly jealous that we're allowed outside and he isn't - he meows plaintively at the windows and follows us as we roam. I think he's loud enough for the neighbors to hear. So much bloomed this weekend. I now have tulips and poppies to go with my daffodils, hyacinths, and bleeding hearts. We mowed the lawn for the first time this weekend with our new electric mower - I'm quite fond of it, despite the cord. It's just like vacuuming, but more detrimental if you run over it. I mowed a lopsided half of the yard on Saturday, as we discovered that the 50-foot extension cord wasn't long enough. Rather than run back out immediately, we decided to finish the rest on

I know almost nothing about plants. I know they need water and some require more shade or sun than others, but as far as remembering which is which and what ones to plant next to tomatoes, I don't have a clue. So when I went to see my mom last weekend, I brought pictures of my yard so she could inform me. I've already forgotten half of it. But here's some of what I remember. Raspberries. Spousal Unit is going to be very happy later in the season. Daffodils and grape hyacinths. There might be some tulips sprouting around them. Bleeding hearts! After the rain last night, they've unfurled a lot more. Possibly oriental poppies. I don't know what any of this other crap is. Probably weeds. Hostas, I think. They're probably not hydras . All I can remember about this one is the general prefix. I want to say septum, but that seems like an inappropriate plant name.

Spousal Unit has wanted to make pancakes out on the patio since we moved in. Perhaps a bit strange, yes, but it sounded fun, too, and his unusual creativity is wonderful. So I mixed up the batter and told him to be careful of bird flyovers. And he made pancakes, which we ate on our patio in the warm sun, surrounded by encroaching greenery that I haven't yet bothered to prune. After, I went to my cousin's baby shower. It was fun to see lots of family in a more unusual context (a bowling alley). Brooke and I with our spicy, decadent bloody marys. The next morning for Mother's Day, we started out with mimosas. Brooke's was a little pale. Neal was disapproving, as usual. We finished it off with a trip to River Bend Winery. It was good to see Mom so happy.

The weekend was forecast to be rainy, or at least gloomy, and I was immensely glad that it was wrong. Rather than clouds and the chill expectation of days indoors, it was sunny and warm(er) both days. Spousal Unit and I played frisbee, went for walks, and enjoyed the cheer of spring. The first waft of freshly cut grass drifted through our green-but-not-that-green lawn, and there are beautiful daffodils and johnny jump ups and soon-to-be irises that I neither planted nor watered, but I'm taking credit for them all the same because they are mine and I can. We found a new-to-us chair for $10 which suits the library beautifully. I've put it by a window, where it can look out at all the shelves while I sit and write. *The title of this post comes from a poem by Margaret Hillert .