OMGosh! My Posse!
I am SO sorry – but it’s been a wackadoodle couple of days, culminating with me marinating in a Tramadol stew (thank FLOYD for Tramadol). The weekend was spent planting 150+ daffodil bulbs (this is how they getcha: you have a MARVELOUS Spring! full of the gorgeousness that is narcissus… then the catalogues start to appear.
Never mind that you already have 200billion daffodils in your borders already. NEBBER YOU MIND! That doesn’t stop you from buying MORE!
And then you sort of forget about them. Until October. When they start showing up. And since you forgot that you bought 100 n. ‘Pipit’, you didn’t mark where your existing daffodils are… and I think you know where this is going.
Anyhoo, I got everything planted – everything except for the lilies I had to uproot in order to separate them from the Northern Sea Oats grass…
and I am whupped. And my poor sacrum is yowling. And the I-band. And the SI joint. And … well, basically? My whole and entire body. And I am stoned AF on Tramadol (thank FLOYD for Tramadol!).
I was going to write this fabulous post about Kermit the Frog (no, really) and Shirley Horn… but that will have to wait until I’m un-stoned.
In the meantime, tell me a story. M. Jacques is NOT stonedAF on Tramadol so he will poke a pawnail for a winner. Promise! We’ve been really fabbo about getting stuff out (okay- fabbo-adjacent. but it beats No Fabbo, right?)
We love you. This stuff is kicking in HORD, so I’mo say …zzzzzzz