Jun. 16th, 2003

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So, I weeded out the poppies, cleared some ground near them to transplant the tallest ones (because they're crowding out the beach poppies), cut back-and-deadheaded the roses, cleaned the roses and put them in buckets of water until I can figure out who to give them to, weeded the lawn, used some of the slates and cedar border thingies we bought a million years ago to make a fence around HM's playhouse and a path to it, put a border around her little garden, cleaned out all of the ancient dead leaves and stuff by the shed, put the ancient dead leaves and stuff (ex-by the shed) inside the border around her playhouse, transplanted some violets and volunteer hostas into it, got all the tools and bags of potting soil and composted manure into the shed (25 pounds each, dammit. If you are a gym-goer in the tristate area, I'd be more than happy to let you do pointless repetitive labor in my yard for free, although it might leave you too tired to race old ladies for those all-important seats in the subway), set up a reading corner near by in the shade, with ancient bouncy lawnchair and a big chunk of marble to put ice water on, cleaned off the patio, put the accumulated weeds into the brown compost pile near the compost container, did laundry, made low(er) fat creme fraiche for today's strawberry shortcake which was supposed to be last night's strawberry shortcake but I was too damn tired (lower fat creme fraiche is kinda like heart-smart butter, conceptually, but it'll make me happier when I'm eating far too much of it), did two loads of laundry and soaked the once-proud pillows in the bathtub with some of that powdered hydrogen peroxide stuff, got an evil sunburn and collapsed at seven.

Of course, now it's Monday and I can go back to (ahem) work.

It's lovely and cool outside, though, and the birdies are chirping and the breeze is making the wispy little clouds float across the sky and the usual morning flock of helicopters is scouting the local highways and I'm going to take my coffee outside with some Robertson Davies and maybe in half an hour or so I'll have the energy for a hot bath.

Note: sunburn + goosepimples = a very very strange feeling.

One happy note: we generally don't do the house-proud thing, and we've had trouble getting plants to live. As a consequence, the house has looked ratty and we've been besieged by real estate agents and people cruising the neighborhood for likely bargains. Yesterday a house-cruiser in an SUV slowed down in front of the house and said to his (discontented looking) passenger "It's too late" before they sped up again and tore away into oncoming traffic on the road that runs perpendicular to ours.

I guess he figured someone else must have bought it if the yard didn't look like hell.

Having a gazillion inches of spring rain (at least it feels that way) is a lovely thing, after years of drought.

edit: did I mention the border for the plants out front we built out of stones from the garden and construction debris (bricks, mostly)?
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This, in the Guardian:

"The difference between being black and being gay," said one gay activist, "is that you don't have to come down at breakfast one morning and break it to your parents: 'Mum, Dad, I'm black.'" In American politics at present it also means that if you're black, you are less likely to be the subject of overt abuse from Republicans. And if you are, then you can at least usually expect them to be punished for it...

really good article, about how homophobia may end up hurting the Republicans more than racism does.

Should, I think, have thought better of the title, which is

Gay is the new black

It's clever, but it doesn't work.
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"Congratulations, you now have the cachet of a low-level Tom Arnold, only without a show"

Dennis Miller, 2003 meets the pre-9/11 Dennis Miller, who occasionally made some sense and still had a career.

via his boggness.
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Hume Cronyn died.

He signed his book for me. The twinkle extended a few feet from his body.

I'm sorry.
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Feel free to look around, but I think what you're looking for is here.
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