Failing Silence and other stories

If you missed it Monday, I'm on partial vocal rest. And as it turns out, not talking is not easy. Everyone tells me I'm a quiet person, but even I like a good conversation with friends or family. Also, I tend to ramble when I get nervous or tired. Which is most of the time. Not talking to Lou feels like mourning, so I hardly hold back with him, and I'm also the sort of person who talks to herself. A lot. And to the cat, and the plants, and miscreant drivers, and inanimate objects, and anything else I can pretend has chosen to listen.

Incongruously, this week I talked myself hoarse discussing vocal problems with a friend who has also experienced them. I learned a lot from her, though.


* * *

All my basil and chive starts have died. This makes me terribly sad.

On the other hand, our back yard looks like this right now (click if you want the big version):

Blooming from left to right:
neighbors' pink cherry, our pie cherry, tulips, apple tree,
something yellow belonging to neighbors, dogwood tree

Also, my row of baby lettuce is just as a row of baby lettuce should be:

There are adorable little kale plants coming up behind,
but they're hard to see in the picture.

We'll say much less about the spinach, which has had a lousy germination rate. But the currants are all, like, "We loooooooooooove it here":

So are the dandelions, of course, but...

And the peonies and the bluebell hyacinth things and the old rose are equally thrilled:

Shot my shadow right into this one. Oops.

And making me very happy: The strawberries are finally blooming.

Shadowed this one, too. I suck at photography.

But I am determined to grow basil and chives, if I have to hang them from the ceiling near a south window in my house. I. Am. Determined.


* * *

Maia: "You're not sitting properly. Could you level out a bit?"

Me: "Maia, if you're going to be on my lap, you have to LIE DOWN. You're blocking the computer screen."

Maia: "I just don't see how I'm going to get comfortable."

Me: "Ow! We'll talk about comfortable when you're not standing on sensitive internal organs."

Maia: "Well, MAKE A PROPER LAP OF YOURSELF."

Me: "You sleep on the stereo with your head hanging off, and you're not happy with my lap?"

Maia, turning in circles: "If it were a sunny day, I'd go sleep on the stereo, but it's cold and you're warm. Move your elbow so I can curl up in it."

Me: "Dadgum it, cat, SIT DOWN NOW and stop messing with my arms. I'm trying to type."

Maia: "Ooh, I've got it. I'll sleep across both your arms. Cool beans. This is perfect."

Me, wondering whether a cat sleeping across both elbows will make me more likely to develop full-blown carpal tunnel syndrome: "I guess I can work with this..."

* * *

Writers' link of the week: Interesting post from Sarah LaPolla on the fact that writing what you know will be entirely uninteresting to most people unless you have a good storyline behind it.

* * *

Music of the week: In all the world of music, this is just about my favorite kind of voice to listen to.



* * *

Random amusement of the week: Places cats are apparently as comfortable sleeping as the average lap. And more, a few of which are repeats. And then, to put a little perspective on the cat-picture phenomenon, this. (H/T my father-in-law, who emailed me a bunch of these awhile back.)

* * *

The house is clean, the tomato plants are out in the semi-sunshine, a load of manure has been dug into the vegetable garden, and I've practiced the piano (albeit very badly.) And I have a blog post together. Somehow I've gotten all this done without yet having coffee.

COFFEE.

I'm going to correct that little oversight right now. Happy weekend!