Dig It

I planted my first garden this year. We had some lovely squash, yummy cherry tomatoes, even some mixed lettuces and a truly awful cucumber. It has been neglected of late and today I finally went out to “put it to bed” for the winter.

Before I actually got down to the task of removing the old stuff it seemed like WORK and I procrastinated forever. But once I got started this morning, the destruction of all the dying plants was cathartic and ironically, constructive.

I found myself plotting out next year’s bed, deciding to have only cherry tomatoes because they were so much easier than the 2 larger ones. And they tasted better! Then it occurred to me I would need to remember which basil plant worked best at repelling the insects (not the Italian variety). 

Part of me wants to put in some flowers next year, though I have no idea where to start. I foresee some research through the rainy months ahead.

There’s something elemental about digging in the dirt isn’t there? I’ve heard people talk about gardening being their therapy. I don’t think I’d go that far, but when I wasn’t beating myself up for neglecting it, it did make me feel good.

One night this summer I made JD and I a little salad to go with dinner. I can’t describe the feeling I got when I told him that ALL the ingredients were from our garden!  It was as though I’d won something!

I’ve thought about expanding next year and the idea is attractive. But I had my hands full with my little raised bed this time around, so I’ll play it by ear and see what happens.

Either way I am hooked…not on phonics either.

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A pair of docs walk into a bar…

 

Okay, not my cleverest title ever.  Being frustrated will do that.  I know this diatribe may be long overdue – I have no idea when these originally aired but I only just saw the two episodes of The Flash I’m going to rant about so if you’ve gotten over the disappointment just move along.  Similarly, if you follow The Flash and have not seen the finale of Season 1 and the opener for Season 2 you’ll want to skip this, as there will be spoilers.  If you don’t follow the show you can also disregard this post.  Or not.  I’m not the boss of you (to borrow a line from Wil Wheaton).

Still here?  Alrighty then.

Yes, I am a grandmother and within a month will be 59 years old, but I still like comics, from the comics page of the newspaper to actual graphic novels.  And I especially enjoy the movies and television shows based on said comics. Like the aforementioned Flash.  Unfortunately, suspending disbelief for the sake of entertainment isn’t always easy for me.  While we’re watching a show, my brain insists on jabbing me with snide little comments like “That would never happen in real life” or “You know there aren’t really any zombies, right?”  But I kick my brain to the curb and continue on because the shows are my brief escape from the “real world.”

However, at the end of the Season 1 finale and throughout the Season 2 opening episode of The Flash I couldn’t shut up my stupid brain. The minute Eddie shoots himself my mind starts throwing out the problems with that scenario.  Ever hear of the Grandfather Paradox?  I bet most of you have whether or not you know it by that name. Briefly, if you travel back in time and kill your grandfather before he fathers your parent then you should cease to exist. If you don’t exist to travel back in time to kill him, he lives on and fathers your parent, etc.

If Eddie (who is the great, great – I forget how many greats – grandfather of Eobard Thwane, the time traveler from the future who assumed Dr. Wells’ identity) kills himself before he becomes a father then the future Thwane should not exist, correct?  Well, Thwane disintegrates before everyone’s eyes right?  (See?  Spoiler right there.)  But that isn’t a complete resolution of the paradox.  Shouldn’t everything Thwane did not have been done?  The real Dr. Harrison Wells should still be alive, as should his wife.  Barry’s mother wouldn’t be dead, his father wouldn’t be in prison for killing her and Star Labs wouldn’t be built.  Okay, there could be some debate about that part because the real Dr. Wells intended to build Star Labs, but wasn’t going to be able to do so for some time.  After Thwane killed him and assumed his identity he accelerated the timing for that project in order to get home (back to the future – HA!  See what I did there?).

The writers of the show try to distract you from these paradoxes by creating an unstable black hole which Barry has to stop, and ending the season by killing off another character.

Season 2 opens six months later to find Barry vowing not to put any of his friends in harm’s way ever again.  However, the paradox continues because while Eddie’s sacrifice removed Thwane from existence everyone still remembers him as having existed.  For all intents and purposes, he’s just dead, or I guess, technically Dr. Wells is dead.  But if he never existed how does everyone still remember him?  Why would he need to leave Barry a videotape confessing to the murder of Barry’s mother thus clearing Henry Allen of the crime?  Say it with me:  She. Should. Not. Be. Dead.  And he shouldn’t have been there to make the damned video either!

To continue would be to beat a dead horse, or a dead time traveler if you will.  But I had to get this off my chest, or out of my head or something.  Whether or not I will continue to watch is up in the air.  This may have ruined it for me.  At least the logical part of my brain hopes so.  After working all day in the really real world the escapist in me still looks forward to suspending disbelief, if only for 45 minutes.

Of course I’m way behind on Agents of SHIELD and Arrow, eventually Daredevil will be back and of course I need to get caught up on The Walking Dead!  I hardly think I’d miss The Flash.  Yeah, right.

 

To Tweet or Not to Tweet

That is so not the question.  I started to join the Twitterverse back when my old blog was active but it just never clicked with me.  Every now and again I will get emails from Twitter reminding me that someone I follow has posted something COOL, or AWESOME, or INTERESTING.  When I get those emails I do what comes naturally – DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.  I’m already way too plugged in to electronics to voluntarily add another tether.

But I saw this image on TheMetaPicture.com which made me almost want to sign up again. Take a peek and see what I’m talking about:

cool-Shakespeare-Tumblr-Twitter

It helps if you’re familiar with this song by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis:

Was that awesome or what?  Hey, would Janey steer you wrong?

Thank You Dear Stranger

Tuesday’s aren’t my favorite day of the week.  It still feels a bit like a Monday, it’s a day short of mid-week, and it feels like there’s a reallllly long time till the weekend.  Then this morning I get to the station just in the nick of time to jump on the train, with the result there are very few seats left.  So yeah, Tuesdays suck.

Because of the dearth of seats I was forced to look for one upstairs.  I don’t like riding on the upper level of the train, I’m not sure why.  But this morning I’m glad I did because I got to see you, Dear Stranger and that made my Tuesday so much better.  On my way past you I caught a glimpse of the screen on your tablet and saw a few people wearing brightly colored garments which might have been uniforms.  While I can’t claim to recognize the specific program you were watching, I recognized the style I guess you could call it.  The brief look I had reminded me of the old BBC show Red Dwarf or something from a similar time period or genre.

I took the seat across from you and for several minutes I tried leaning my head back and closing my eyes, earbuds streaming my playlist to drown out the recorded PSAs and neighboring conversation.  One of the problems with being on the tall side is that seats designed for the average person aren’t all that user friendly.  In order to properly make use of the headrest I find myself slouching, which necessitates stretching my legs beyond my approved area.  Eventually I gave up and sat up straight.  Pulling out my own electronic device, I took my turn at Trivia Crack, blowing a really easy question and bouncing the first game back to my brother before picking up another crown in the game with my gal pal and then missing the very next question.  Switching to Solitaire City I glanced out the window while the game loaded.  With the sun still in hiding the glass was so reflective I caught sight of you shaking in your seat.  It took a second but I realized you were laughing and it made me smile.

Turning back to my phone, I played a few hands of solitaire and listened glumly as they announced the train would be delayed just outside Seattle.  “Let’s call it ‘freight interference’” the guy said.  Really?  You’ve just informed a train full of commuters they’re going to be late for work.  Does it matter what you call it?

Again and again my eyes were drawn to you, whether your reflection in the glass or your in-person face across the table from me.  You wore an almost perpetual smile and every now and then you would shake with laughter at something you saw on screen.  And every single time it made me smile.

So thank you Dear Stranger.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you for making my Tuesday so much better than it might have been.  I hope your Tuesday is as nice as you’ve made mine.

Crickets

I’ve always counted myself lucky to have the work schedule I do.  I really like leaving the office at 4:15 every day.  If you have to work outside the home for a living then getting home before dark is awesome, especially in the Pacific Northwest where it gets dark damn early in these waning months of the year.  Sigh.

Today I appreciate my schedule even more if that’s possible.  For those of you who follow me, you may recall the new secretarial support model we started back in May – Shared Services.  Well there have been many changes to the original make up of the team:  our fearless leader left the firm and I stepped into her shoes; our extremely excellent litigation-experienced secretary quit to go elsewhere and now we are once again 4 – and merely adequate at litigation.  Okay, that may be minimizing our experience level.  There are three of us who know our way around a court filing and a fourth who tries.

But that’s not the point I’m working toward here.  With only four of us scheduling can be challenging.  It doesn’t help that the firm promised the attorneys covered by the team that there would be someone available until 6 every night.  That’s usually fine as we have two secretaries who stay later – one until 6 and the other until 5:45, usually.

“Usually” changed once it started getting dark earlier.  L practices Conservative Judaism, requiring that she arrive at home before sunset each Shabbat or Friday to you and me.  During the Fall and early Winter months that means she leaves earlier each Friday until the solstice.  Then the timing will reverse until she’s back to her usual 5:45 departure time.  So she left here today at 4:45.

Then there’s our newest addition, C whose regular schedule keeps her here until 6.  However, her son is a high school senior this year and tonight was an important senior event which she wanted to be a part of.  Of course she had to go!  Meaning she left here at 3.

And finally, J had prior plans to visit her son out of state, also leaving at 3.  Leaving little old me to man the torpedoes all by my lonesome till 6, or nearly then (I’m sneaking out a little early so I can catch the last train out).

Have you ever been in an office setting after 5?  It’s the equivalent of a ghost town.  Oh there are some die-hards still toiling away in their offices, but they’re few and far between.  It’s freaking eerie in here people!  But heck, you know me.  I have to look at the bright side – I’m actually writing a post on my computer and not my phone!  How cool is that?

Now if I can just get rid of those damn crickets…

 

Family Skeletons

Last month JD and I spent a weekend with  family. No surprise there really, except it was MY family! Whoa, I’ll bet some of you didn’t even know Janey had family did you? You know…since I rant so much about JD’s family? Right? Okay, okay don’t all answer at once. It was rhetorical after all.

So Janey had the closest thing to a real vacation in a good long time, including four days off work and a road trip (cue the crowd going wild)! What? I got a little excited, so sue me. Well, I was excited till my butt went numb about two hours into the drive. Makes me wish I could sleep in the car. At least then I’d be oblivious till I woke up.

For three nights and four days I got to hang with my brothers and one of their significant others at a cabin we rented in Cheney. We did old people stuff like soaking in the hot tub, playing cards and hitting the buffets. And we talked. And talked and talked and talked.

Because of the age differences we could have been only children for the few memories we share. Being the oldest I have more memories of when we were all together but after I left home they had entire lives I wasn’t a part of. It was enlightening to say the least. I had no idea they’d both spent some time in jail or that they’d battled addiction like our mother, though that isn’t surprising in itself.

Naturally one topic that came up was dear old Mom and we were all agreed that our mother was a slut. I know that sounds harsh but it was true.  She had issues of her own that probably sent her looking for comfort and security in the arms of Mr. Right Now.  Many many Mr. Right Nows. Each one of us siblings has a different paternal unit. That’s a total of four (our baby sister couldn’t join us). Then there were at least three more who she did not make a baby with, that we know of anyway.

But that was old news mostly and we moved on. The tidbit that I most enjoyed learning was some genealogy. Our great grandmother (or great great, I never did get that straight) emigrated to the US from Germany via an ocean cruise during the second world war. She was Jewish.

Now you have to understand the background here – none of my family was all that religious except my grandmother, who was a practicing Christian till the day she died. My uncle, her youngest child eventually followed in her footsteps, as did I when I was younger. No one ever talked about or for that matter thought it important enough to even mention that we had Jewish roots.

Judaism isn’t only about religion as many of you may know. Based on my limited experience, I understand it’s also about heritage and history. It’s a race like Caucasian or Asian or African. And it passes down not from father to son, but from mother to daughter. So because our great (great?) grandmother was Jewish our grandmother and mother were Jewish. Which means I am Jewish! Wow!

Yeah, not much of a skeleton I know. But imagine my pleasure in sharing with my in-laws that JD didn’t marry a shiksa after all!

Happy Weekend!