Cheerless

To tell you the truth although I had time to blog yesterday I just didn't feel like writing. Further, I didn't really feel like doing much of anything. Do I sound like a whiner? You're probably spot on about that.

Seriously, I've no reason to complain, or not any major reasons. I think when Bruce left early yesterday morning it hit me that I'm tired of his traveling four days of the week. If I'm tired of it, can you imagine how he feels? In more than eighteen years of working for Darden he's traveled most weeks, but usually his schedule included flying out on Tuesday morning, returning most times by dinner on Thursday. So far this year he's been gone Mondays as well. When he's home he's working at his desk most of the time. In other words, my boyfriend is way too busy!

Sunday, he made some time to do a few things around the house, realizing himself that he just had to get away from his computer. While sitting at his desk all those hours he can see the bird feeder I put on a garden hook where the tree once stood so proud and tall. Occasionally, he'll see both the male and female cardinal that call our yard home, which is always a delight. Not quite so delightful was watching a rat climb up the pole to eat his full of the bird seed. Being the inventer that he is, he made a plexiglass disc which he hopes will deter the rodents. Further, he bought a rat trap, placing it in this aqueduct he'd fashioned. Remember the picture a few weeks ago with the rat/mouse peeking out? That's the structure. Horror upon horrors, yesterday afternoon I saw the rat in the trap just staring at me! Dead of course. Now what? When we talked last night Bruce asked if I could pick the trap up with tongs and place it in a plastic bag. Normally he buries creatures, however, this time may be an exception. As you can imagine, I'm not too hip to the idea--I don't even like to pick up dead roaches, let alone a dead rat! On the other hand, by Thursday night, leaving the rat there might prove problematic. I'll leave it up to your imagination okay? We discussed various male neighbors willing to take on the task. I think later on I'll ask the fire chief down the street to help me out on this one! Hopefully, he'll accept.

Another reason for my cheerless mood is, you guessed it, poor sales on Sunday. When I say poor, I mean really poor, the worst of the year. I know, the weather was warm, but still. Bruce figured my time at the market yielded about $5/hr, however, he did not factor in all the time spent ordering, picking up the prints, preparing them, and actually taking the photographs! Yikes! I told him to remind me why we thought this could be fun... Plus, they put someone next to my booth which did not please me one bit. Anyone who has visited me at the market knows I have one open side where people come to visit. Two chairs are there in case a visitor wants to sit. Sunday, none of this could happen very easily. Everyone who comes regularly asked me what was going on. Grrrr.....Knowing me as you do, you've already figured out that I did not take this lightly, or keep my thoughts to myself. Complaints were made. We'll see about next week....

All weekend I kept thinking the time had come for me to seriously start cleaning out my photo library. I was successful up to a point yesterday. I deleted and deleted. Then I had the bright idea to make some discs of family events, removing them from the library in order not to have to make any decisions about what to delete. Normally making discs is pretty easy in Picasa, however, this time I ran into some problems, frustrating me further and naturally contributing to my funk. I won't bore you with details--I'm still sorting it all out.

Leaving that task I decided to finish the book I'd been slogging through for two weeks. Russian Winter took me too long to read, only really picking up speed in the last one hundred pages or so. I picked it up at the library upon the recommendation of another patron who insisted I wouldn't be disappointed. Good, however, there are better books out there. In fact, one stood on my nightstand all the time I was in Russia. This collection of short stories is authored by Colm Toibin who wrote the magnificent Brooklyn. Do not read this one if you are easily depressed! Writing that is kind of funny because although I began reading in somewhat of a funk, the sad stories actually lifted my spirits! Great writing will do that to a reader....how I wish I had the gift! Encountering the kind of writing Mr. Toibin does makes me almost cringe thinking of mine...

Allright, already, let's move on....

I took this picture at the Polasek a month or so ago and they were so pleased with it they used it for the cover of the monthly newsletter which arrived in yesterday's post.

Unfortunately, the newsletter is now in black and white, however, the online version is color which showed the beautiful tabebuia tree in all it's glory. This statue, "The Sower" is one of my favorites by Mr. Polasek. Actually there's a fascinating story connected with this piece. He made it as a fairly young man for the Art Institute of Chicago, sometime in the early 1900's. Apparently, the Decency League of Chicago objected to having a 10 foot nude male sculpture in front of the Institute, successfully having it removed. Notoriety ensued. Later on, while in his 30's, Mr. Polasek was asked to head the sculpture department there, staying until his retirement. It was then that he moved to Winter Park to be near Ruth Sherwood, whom he later made his first wife at the age of 72!

It's the most fragrant time of the year with the confederate jasmine filling the air with it's sweet perfume.

Makes getting the mail a pleasure! Speaking of which, these days it's a pretty puny lot, mostly fliers and the like.

I was pleased as punch when this wonderful begonia, which has outstanding leaves, sent up this flower:

I bought this last fall, enjoying it each time I walked in the side door, never even thinking it would flower. Silly me, everything flowers!

Speaking of the Polasek, it's time for me to get a move on....the reception desk awaits!