This is finally getting somewhere. On Sunday I did a bit of digging at the corner of the porch and sifted a hideous amount of rocks, most white marble chips (thanks, previous owners) out of the soil, threw in a few handfuls of tulip bulbs and then planted those hostas (hand-me-downs from Peter’s grandparents via his mother’s front yard, and having languished in an overgrown jungle corner of our backyard since we relocated them to put the new porch in). Then I stood up, exhausted, and loudly declared myself done working for the day.
And then I made this flagstone path! Because I overdo things. And it looks good and is worth the stiff back. I keep walking out of my way all the way around the house on arriving home from the studio just so I can happen upon it from around the corner like this and admire it and bask in my self satisfaction.
Waffle House breakfasts: 4
Hotel breakfasts: 2
Bottles of red wine: 3
Gin and tonics: 3
Cute ladies groping me: 1
Number of times I got hit in the crotch with a fake weapon: zero! (down at least 20 from last time)
Meals eaten in a hotel bed: 2
Mean tricks played on strangers: only one, but it was a good one:
Things I just spilled this very large jar of walnut ink on:
-the work table
-the studio floor
-sheets of paper and bookbinding tools not yet cleared away from last night’s class
-my leggings, which means my leg is going to be dyed brown by the time I get home
Let this be a lesson to you: don’t keep your extremely stainey inks in these ridiculous topheavy flip-top sealer jars.