Tired, But Happy
I gardened for about six hours with my mom today. Our front garden hasn't gotten the attention it normally gets, what with trying to get ready to go to Ireland and then all the stuff with Jormungandr, and it had gotten a little crazy looking. So we weeded and pruned and weeded and laid mulch and weeded. We even went to Lowe's and bought some edging--I've been trying a trench method for years without much success, so hopefully that will help keep the grass out. (Also, note to the makers of the edging: it would be nice if you didn't apparently need to work out for five hours a day to be able to get the stakes off so they can be used.)

But all the work was worth it. The garden now looks very nice and I found all sorts of little guys in it. We have tons of swallowtail butterfly caterpillars on the rue and dill--so many that I had to inspect every piece I cut or pinched off to make sure I wasn't throwing away a tiny caterpillar. The monarch caterpillars are freaking enormous and attacking the mexican butterfly weed. Literally, they sort of headbutt the ends of the stalks with their teeth. I keep expecting to hear action movie-type bangs when they do it. Several caterpillars have already made chrysali on the overhang of the house. There's also a mockingbird that likes to sit right over the stovepipe outside the house and chirp--it sounds like she's inside the house. She's made a nest in the redbud and it has two babies in it. One of them was acting like he wanted to fly soon, standing out on the edge of the nest and looking around.

So my back hurts, my nose is sunburned, and I have these huge swathes of orange pollen on my arms from where I brushed up against the tiger lily, which WILL NOT wash off completely even with copious amounts of soap and scrubbing, but I'm happy.

So, last night I dreamed that Malegrios and the giant boar came to do battle with me. I knew when he was going to arrive--there was, naturally, an appointed time. But when he got there I was still hanging a really large picture on the wall (which happened to be outside, for some reason) with my friend Quin. So I told my mom to just tell Malegrios to hold on for a second, beacuse this wouldn't take long and it would really be a pain to have to start over again and try to get it to hang straight.

After we got the picture hung, I went over to the table where he was waiting and sat down. And then I proceded to tell him that I had a great idea for how to deal with the giant boar so that it wouldn't have to kill me. The idea?

Make the boar into a debt collector.

It made perfect sense, and the boar would be really good at it, I went on to tell Malegrios, because he could just kill and eat anyone who refused to pay.

Then I woke up. So, serioualy, what the frak? 
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Grumble, grumble
I know that I gamed on Wednesday. I know that Wednesday was not, in fact, an entire week ago. I know that it's just one week from one Wednesday to another, the same amount of time as from one Monday to another.

But I am now conditioned to game on Monday! My brain and body are telling me that it's time to game! My dice are calling out to me from the cabinet in tiny little cheepy voices! And it's painful to know that I have to wait TWO MORE DAYS!

Argh. It's official. I have turned the corner of geekdom and become a gamer.

Can I Take the Train?
Argh. Today we drove Matt to OKC for the doctor. (By "we" I that my mom drove and I navigated, since me driving with the way my nerves get before these doctor visits would be . . . bad.) I have to give my mom many hugs, though, because we're back in one piece, which seemed highly doubtful no less than three times during the trip.

First there was the semi whose tire exploded right in front of us, so that we had to swerve REALLY quickly to avoid the humongous flying tire pieces and a random piece of metal about as wide as the car. Then there was the guy weaving around the road and shoulder so much that we were convinced he was drunk at 2:30 in the afternoon . . . until we got up the courage to try to rush past him and saw that he was, in fact, texting. Dipshit. And finally there was the rainstorm so fierce that it was like being inside a fish bowl being shaken around by a hyper three-year-old. We had to pull over for that and wait until it passed because we could barely see the car right in front of us.

Seriously, that whole idea about putting a train between here and OKC is looking pretty good right now.
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Gone, (Probably) Soon to Be Forgotten
We had a family garage sale this weekend. Matt and I had a few things in it, so we said we'd help out. We show up on Saturday with the computer (Matt had, naturally, made a spreadsheet program to keep track of who had earned what money), and there's this little crossbow on the table where people would come to pay for things. It has about ten little metal crossbow bolts that are actually kind of sharp. Apparently this was my dad's, and they were trying to sell it while also keeping it out of the hands of small roving children.

So, of course, Matt had to have it. He and I have tried to learn regular archery in the past (though generally we practice diligently for about three days and then quit for months when we get too busy). But we brought this crossbow home and set the target up in the backyard last night. Matt lines up with it, shoots, and the bolt flies over the target into the grass. We go looking for it, but it's nowhere to be found. I'm thinking, Well, he has a bad eye--I can surely do better. So I set up, shoot . . . and there's another lost in the grass.

We can't find them. They're about as long as my hand and not brightly colored at all. And our backyard is full of bermuda grass that will grow into a jungle in about three days. I think the only people who will find them are some futuristic archaeologists, who will probably dub our yard the site of some very small battle.

Indecision City
So, this really shouldn't be that hard, right? You have friends who have livejournals, friends who say, "Open an account, and then you can read our locked posts!  It's easy!" And you think, well, all right--that does sound easy. And then, after weeks of dithering about it because you can't seem to figure on a cool username for yourself, and then a day of messing around with the various (awful) themes available to you, and another day trying to pick out a picture and a journal name, you realize that, while it probably is easy for most people, you live on Planet Wemble in Indecision City.

Seriously, it shouldn't be this hard. And it's not just this. I live in this weird space where small decisions seem to be really hard sometimes. I'm okay with big ones. Do you want to get married? Yes! Should we hire this or that author for a workshop? Easy. Need something organized? I'm your girl.

But I often get trapped in small decisions. Where to go for dinner or what to order once I'm there. Whether or not to call and invite someone over or wait for them to call. Which fun things we should schedule for vacation, because of course we won't get to do ALL the fun things in a given location, and I might pick the wrong ones. Things that aren't that important, but that, for some reason, feel very important at the time, even though my brain knows they're not.

I'm not sure what to do about it. It seems to go along with the rest of my personality, which is a little more nervous than a lot of other people's. Maybe it's like one of my friends told me once--I wemble because I care so much about everything. Probably too much, but maybe that's better than the reverse.

Which is all a very roundabout way of saying that, at long last, I have a livejournal. Don't know how much I'll post, but here I am!


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