I Want This Dress In Deep Rich Bottle Green

The lovely Christy  has blessed me mixedly with an award:

I now must reveal five addictions and make five other people do the same. If I'd received this award in the 80s, I'd have been honor bound to begin with my addiction to black shoes, but I am thankfully in recovery from that one. I'm more of a "propensity" type than an addiction type, but I have come up with 5 things suitable for general consumption. So, here goes.

My name is Kelly, and I’m addicted to

1. My Laptop  More precisely, I'm addicted to googling people and things that don’t do wonders for my self-esteem and compulsively checking blog comments, FB updates, and emails.

2. The Pacific Northwest  I am meant to live there. I dream of Oregon and the San Juan Islands daily, and would love to retire to a craftsman cottage in either spot and grow lots of peonies.

3. Very Nice Hotels  I’ve had insomnia issues for years, and I always sleep well in a cold, dark, quiet room on a good bed with tons of pillows. I also like to take my laptop to the bar and people watching in conjunction with addiction #1.

4. My Goofy Dog, Kaiser  He’s a pain in the ass, my husband is allergic to him, and I have to do all the work. But those eyes! And all that love!

5. Procrastination  But I will make significant progress on this one tomorrow, believe it or not, I promise!

I honor the following bloggers: Do You Realize?, What I Saw Today,  Redmolly Picayune-Democrat, Cheerio Road, and The Savvy Navigator

Harvest

Today, Small Child and I saw our first V of geese.

A few days ago, a beautiful, giant full moon hung low in the sky.

Here and there, leaves go golden.

The squirrels have been frantic for a couple of weeks, and Large Dog has been in what can only be described as a manic state.

And exactly one year ago tonight, I wrote a post that ended with the words, “I wish it would rain,” words that crossed my mind endlessly today as my feet crunched across dry grass on cracked earth.

All signs point to autumn. To fall. To harvest.

But I’m anxious.

I have not been tending my garden lately. Since I began blogging 18 months ago, I’ve sown many seeds (consciously and otherwise). I grew weary of carrying water when the rains stopped. I’ve veered off into the easy subjects, partisan politics, sentiment-at-hand. 

Honestly? I’m not even sure I remember what seeds I threw in which direction. I didn’t keep good records. Some plants looked promising but withered in the brutal summer sun. Others I just abandoned, too busy to water. Entire sections fell to mysterious blight. I put a few seed packets down and forgot about them; plants sprouted right out of the paper. The months have been that way.

The months have been so much that way that often many go by without a glance at the garden. But autumn forces the gaze.

Some of those seeds have grown into plants I really can’t ignore any longer, the kind that crack walkways, ruin foundations, choke out desirable species. The tough, spiny ones that can live without irrigation or attention. It’s time for me to face my fear of runaway vegetation. Gotta thin, prune, mulch.

I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way. You only have to flip on the news or walk through a store to hear uneasiness, fear, and worry.

But not all gardeners have been dithering or wringing their hands. I admire their work.

One is seeing her children through transitions joyous and painful, making enormous sacrifices yet still finding time to laugh, play, create and be a wonderful friend.

Another has, in what most find a daunting economic climate, listened to his heart and birthed a second successful business that feeds his soul.

Yet another, who completely plowed under a marriage of many years and lost much in the process, found not only freedom but also a second go at love and parenthood.

Finally, a friend and fabulous writer with talent and discipline and wit persevered right into a two-book deal.

It’s been a heavy year, friends. I don’t know what I’m going to find out there when I pull on my gloves, pick up the shovel, and start digging. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll find succulent autumn vegetables, as much as I adore them.

Whatever I find, I’ll do my best to make it relevant and readable. If not, you can always toss it in the compost.

A first (and likely only).

It seems I've been nominated for a blogging award. Her Other Evil Twin loves my blog. How do I know? She emailed this to me today:

I feel like Sally Field.

Like a chain letter, such awards should leave my blog quickly, according to The Rules:

1. The winner can put the logo on his or her blog.
2. Link to the person from whom you received the award.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Put links to those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs you nominate.

Who to nominate? This is where my shyness kicks in. (Stop laughing! I'm an introvert. It's true. Really. Ask the MBTI.)   I read many blogs, but I don't feel comfortable nominating high-traffic blogs I frequent, particularly since many don't post such awards.  So I will nominate my blogrolling friends:

Do You Realize?

Juvenescence

Lithia Writer's Collective

RedMolly Picayune-Democrat

Peru-Loco 

What I Saw Today

Savvy Navigator

If the award doesn't fit in with your site's aesthetic, I understand completely if you choose not to display.  But know you are loved.

Old Roman Symbol and Bookkeeping, I left you off because you, ahem, need to blog already! I had to choose between Northward Leadership and Savvy Navigator, but since they're related I went with the new addition.

Paralytic Hiatus

Stick with me, pals.

I've been smacked upside the head with the moody blues. Glum, foggy-headed funk.  Hot, humid, lethargic word-cement.

Inspired by Christy of Juvenescence and Lithia Writers' Collective, I'm going to attack the block from a different direction and attempt to put together a room of my own, physically and emotionally. One with a door I can close.  Click here for some excellent examples.

I may post a meme or two in the next few days, just to keep my fingers busy.  If you need things to read, do check out my blog links, as I've added a couple. Her Other Evil Twin is a true mystery woman. While I've never met the author of RedMolly Picayune-Democrat face-to-face, I figure -  in the blogosphere - one degree of separation qualifies. I attended public school with Old Roman Symbol from second through twelfth grade, but haven't seen him since 1977 (same with  What I Saw Today....maybe a reunion would shake things up?).

I think this is probably Texas' version of Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I once read an article about summer sufferers, including one woman who went to bed each night with two-liter Pepsi-bottles full of water she'd frozen to keep the night sweats at bay.  Not a bad plan at all.