Did I say I was getting caught up? It didn't last. Work is difficult; the new people aren't working out very well, and I'm drowning in too much undone work. I no longer snap at people; instead, I find myself silent all day except for conversations with clients and vendors. My good mood is intact, if shallow. Underneath is a kind of bleak determination to keep going. I work, and work, and work, and when I'm off the phone I sit quietly, worried about the poor service my clients are receiving because we don't have enough people to handle the job. Soon, I fear, we'll start losing accounts. I am not sleeping well. I have halved my caffeine intake because I don't need it. Too many worries, too many problems. I am wired on stress.
But I have my ways of decompressing when I get home. Currently, I'm finding doing chores a very satisfying way of achieving a sense of accomplishment. The house is looking rather tidy if not entirely fur-free. And, of course, I'm obsessed with my garden.
I spend what little spare time I have thinking about what to plant where, and whether or not certain plants are dormant or dead, and if I dare commit to something as large and long term as a tree. Every night when I get home I rush out back to see what's changed in the garden. I truly can't stop thinking about it. Friday night I dreamt I went out to the ixia bed and started digging them up to see why they hadn't germinated. "I'm sorry, but you had your chance," I said to them sternly, and I removed them all. Saturday morning I went out to give the container box a speculative look. Lo and behold, three of the corn lilies had thrust thin green shoots above the earth. They probably got the psychic message, because I assure you there was nothing to be seen on Friday.
Denise and I hit the nurseries on Saturday afternoon up in South San Francisco. We had a great time because the weather turned warm and sunny. I came home with a sunburn and my favorite color of geranium. Somewhat embarrassingly, it's called Disco 98. It's a vivid fuschia pink with a subtle red around the edges, and I used to line the steps of my house with them. I would put some in containers out front if I could find more; alas, this was the only one at Orchard Supply. I also found a magnificent pale lilac columbine which is now ensconced in pride of place next to the corn lilies whose yellow blooms should look lovely next to it. Here they are:
I also cut down the last of the evil Cthulhu plant (I curse whoever thought such a resource-waster would look pretty) which has so many roots that no matter how many times I dig and cut and yank them out there are always more the next time I dig somewhere. I'm sorry that the greenery is gone, and I don't much like being able to see into the neighbor's yard, but the hideous stuff grew top heavy really quickly and took up most of the miniscule space in the built-in container boxes. My forearms still ache from hacking at it with my big pruner, but I feel triumphant. I am going to plant Chinese Lanterns in there this week, and Honesty if I can find some. I love plants that look interesting in the fall as well as the spring. Those weird orange pods of the Chinese Lanterns will look really cool next to the flat, golden coin seed pods of the Honesty.
Tonight's Hornblower episode had a superb scene set in Pinewood Studio's massive water tank. I was glad I didn't have to film a shipwreck with wind and rain machines roaring around me, soaking me to the bone. There was an equally impressive dinner scene. The table settings looked wonderful, particularly the handblown drinking glasses. I also thought the costumes were perfect. I'm extremely picky about this, disliking films that show everyone in perfect period uniformity; in every age, old people tend to stick with the fashions of their younger days, not wearing the latest styles, and the young wear more exaggerated versions of whatever is popular. It's all pretty wonderful for a died-in-the-wool Regency fan. An enormous amount of research has obviously gone into the production of the mini-series, and it shows.
The latest travel plan is to, yes, go to France after all for the total solar eclipse, but go on to Italy for a few days. We will stay in Paris only long enough to view the eclipse, and for John to purchase vast tracts of old French celebrity magazines and ship them home to himself. I will go to Versailles. Then we will go to Rome because I must see it, and I never have. We will stop in Florence, too. It will be a very quick, busy vacation, but it will also be more affordable than Chile and Argentina. Well, maybe not for John, who treats Paris like the world's finest thrift shop. Still, it suits my budget better this year. I'm sad about Chile, but Rome's not a bad substitute.
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