Don't be fooled. Inside this thin coating of sweetness is a fiery core of total insanity.

Monday, November 26, 2018

In The Doldrums

You've probably noticed I haven't been posting much for the last couple of months. I'm doing fine, still gardening like a madwoman, just not much interested in sharing about it on my blog.

Do you know what The Doldrums are? Basically it's an equatorial region of the earth where a lack of wind causes sailing ships to make no progress.

That's been the state of my blog for a while.


I could write about what I've been doing in the garden, but because of the time of year, it doesn't really look like much yet. Plus, I've been in a foul mood.

So, bear with me while I veer off into a rant about a few things. If it bothers you, feel free to stop here. Go read (or reread) someone's uplifting post about what they're thankful for this year.

Social Networking

In many ways, social networking -- and blogging is a part of that -- has been a great way for introverts (I am one) to communicate with the world. But...



But social networking also sucks ass, in all kinds of ways.

Facebook, for example. I deactivated my Facebook account almost two years ago now and haven't missed it yet. I really should go back in and delete it completely, but I've forgotten my password, and I dread any interaction with them to try and get it back.

Read this. Why the fuck are you still on Facebook, putting money in Zuckerberg's pocket?

Then, there's that nagging feeling, every time I get on Instagram and check out the wonderful, curated images, that everyone except me has a perfect life and has the perfect garden and is having the most fun in the universe. The certainty that I'm the only flawed gardener out there with a garden full of dying plants, thriving weeds, and huge areas of bare, ugly soil is such a drag. Come on, Instagrammers! Someone post some ugly pics, so I can at least have a little shot of Schadenfreude.

By the way

I know




The Holidays

What can I say? I'm a bit of a Scrooge. The only authentic feeling the holidays elicit in me is a sense of mourning. I mourn the young woman I used to be who loved celebrating them, and who found meaning in them. Who searched and searched for just the right gifts for loved ones, or sometimes made them with her own hands. Who spent the holidays surrounded by family, and treasured family dishes and recipes. Now a darkness descends on me every fall when I sense the holidays approaching, which unfortunately happens earlier and earlier as the shops put their Christmas and Thanksgiving merchandise out in August. It's a marathon cooking slog, for a meal that is hard work to prepare, that requires shopping in grocery stores packed with people (shudder!), and takes less than 15 minutes to wolf down. On the one hand, it makes for a very nice, cozy, unstressed meal with just me and Nigel, and he is very appreciative of my work and he always compliments my cooking.

Everything Else

I was going to mention the news, the wildfires and climate change, and politics and the state of the country, my health and my increasing age, but maybe I'll just say "ugh." Every day the news is either depressing or alarming.

If you went to that link above about The Doldrums, it says

The word may be derived from dold, an archaic term meaning "stupid", and -rum(s), a noun suffix found in such words as "tantrum."

Anyway, I'm still here.