i can pickle that:
i know i'm finally home because on my kitchen counter i have a jar of red cabbage sauerkraut, a jar of lacto-fermenting pickling cucumbers*, and a jar of homemade yogurt. these, as much as the curtains and the art on the walls, are clear indicators of my nesting instinct. together we put up a storm door that had been waiting for some TLC for months (it took some pretty nifty engineering solutions from mr. monkey - thank god we each have our own talents, because putting things together in ways that are superior to their original design is definitely not something i am capable of.) mr. monkey reorganized the garage and i've been airing out feather pillows that had gotten musty. i only wish we could have a laundry line out back, but i'm pretty certain it's outlawed here - disgusting and shameful behaviour of the poors and the immigrants. don't want none of that here!
we had friends over last night helping us move the last of our (very heavy) polish stuff from tb's house to ours. the night ended close to midnight for me (already past my bedtime) but it ended much later for mr. monkey. i came down at 4 am ready to tell the guests to go the hell home, but they'd beat me by no more than an hour and all i found was mr. monkey sleeping sweetly on a quilt, covered by a sheepskin rug. he was convinced (and thus tried to convince me) that when he lied down it was the opposite, and far more logical, set up: lying ON fur, and UNDER a quilt but i remain unconvinced, especially in light of his inability to take the stairs up to bed. this sort of thing happens rarely, thank god, though it does tend to happen whenever these particular friends come over. god love them, they're very nice, but they are good neither for the liver nor for the old circadian rhythms. i've said it before: my ideal social event starts right after work hours, and ends by 8-9pm at the latest. anything beyond that and i get resentful and cranky. still, it's nice to be able to say goodnight and know that nobody will be offended.
sometimes you know your mind is entering a place that is one smidgeon removed from full on madness. it's good to catch yourself and step back before you plunge into that abyss. thursday i found myself standing at the back door, talking to the squirrel. it's been coming around daily and rummaging in my flower pots which are already pretty precarious because of the recent frost, and to distract it i threw down some peanuts for it. peanuts it just ignored like the dumb little furkin it is. so here i was, standing on the back stoop, talking to the squirrel (slowly and clearly, so that it might understand me):
moi: look, you moron! i gave you some peanuts! PEA-NUTS. RIGHT. OVER. HERE. don't you want them? listen, dumdum! PEEEEEA - NUTS. HERE!!!
then i realised what i was doing and i went sheepishly inside. the damn critter continued to ignore them and, with my track record with squirrels, i really can't blame it. but this batch is most certainly not poisoned, and i want it to leave my poor plants alone. but how do you reason with a squirrel?
on the topic of politics i will only say that i am so proud of all the women (and honorary women) who walked out today and spoke out with a big beautiful united roar. you go, ladies!
*yes, it's cucumber season in texas. go figger!