I know you're sick of hearing me talk about how I'm eating the flaxseed muffins I made myself yesterday, with whole-wheat flour, which who even knew that was a thing. But lemme tell you, I outdid myself. They.Are.Delicious.
I've been eating this damn healthy food for two weeks now, and you all keep asking if my headaches are gone. NOT YET. I mean, I have only had one mild one, on Friday, after that disastrous day, but that's not an unusual amount for me. I can go two or three weeks, and then I'll get 800 in a row.
The point of this study is if this diet affects my head long term. And for all I know, I'm in the control group and I'm doing this stupid whole grains, fresh fruit, lots of fish crap for naught.
In the meantime, let's talk about my yard. Ooo, June! Don't ever stop! You rivet me!
So here's my yard now, and I know it's cute and all, I do. But remember how my back yard was mud, and all I had was mud, and my name was mud, and if I sang the blues I'd be Muddy Waters? Remember that? I had a series of men come over and tell me what I should do, and one guy had suggestions I didn't want, but when we walked back to his truck, he said, "You know, I could make your front yard so cute."
Then he started telling me his plans. Like, making the monkey grass, there, more symmetrical, and once he mentioned how asymmetrical it was I got bothered by it. And getting rid of my '70s bushes and putting in low hydrangeas and wrapping jasmine around the white posts and I WAS SO SOLD.
So, first of all I hired him to cut my lawn and he does 20,000 times better of a job than the last guy, who was a nice guy but he didn't edge or blow and this all sounds dirty. My yard makes me pleased every time I come home.
New Lawn Guy (let's call him Lawn Greene) came over this weekend, and drew me a little plan, which I am now obsessed with.
I mean, I can only pay him do to a very little at a time. Like, step one, go get the jasmine. That's it for now. So, all told, this will take around five years, but what else have I got to do?
Oh, it's so exciting.
I invited the guy in Saturday, so he could draw me his little blueprint, and naturally Edsel greeted him at the door with something in his mouth. Edsel cannot go to the door empty-mouthed, it just wouldn't be fittin'. So instead he brings his toy, or my shoe, or if he's desperate, the remote or a piece of paper.
"Oh, he's friendly now," said the lawn guy.
"Does he bark at you when you're here to cut the lawn?"
"June, I wouldn't be surprised if this dog killed an intruder. He goes to the windows and snarls and shows his teeth and even drools. I've actually seen his dripping fangs."
This dog. This dog right here. With the doilies and the simpering and the, okay, few puppy attempted murders under his–well, he'd never wear a belt. Under his Ashley Wilkes milksop gold sash.
Edsel is a man of many mysteries. He's a boiling caldron under that rangy frame.
Yesterday was our six-year anniversary, Edsel's and mine. He and I have had quite a stupid year. It was also the one-year anniversary of when I moved out of my year abroad and into Kaye's, a thing I hadn't noted till Google Photos showed me what I was doing a year ago. I think that's a good sign, that I didn't note it and sit in my rocker and be Miss Havisham about it.
All right, I've got to go. How many of you think I will forget to bring the laptop back to work and have to turn around and go get it once I've arrived? How many?