|National Archives and Records Administration photo, 1937|
I feel like her right now, because I just started a another new job. Now don't worry, I still have that great new job that I started in June. I just added another one, a six-month temporary position which hours worked out exactly opposite my other job, and with an offer I couldn't refuse. So.....
To say it's nuttier than a squirrel farm around here is a bit of an understatement. Two new jobs in four months, and learning the ropes to both. Four kids in three different schools. Football season. Guitar lessons. Homework. Lunch box times five every weekday. Every day I throw in coffee, throw on clothes (and hope I don't miss) and throw kids out of the minivan on my way to the office. Second shift laundry, cooking, and cleaning. We're in the adjustment phase right now. Which is just my polite way of saying: Ahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghaahahaagghhh!
Deeeeeeeeep cleansing breath.
I did manage a few minutes to homestead the homestead today, because iris corms came in the mail:
I love how instead of wrapping things in plastic and labeling the bags, they just wrote the name of the variety with a Sharpie on a blade of iris leaf. That's 'Babbling Brook'. Isn't it poetic? Do you ever pick plants because you fell in love with the name? That's exactly why I chose this one:
|American Iris Society|
Iris corms are the weirdest thing you ever saw, because they are basically a root that not only wants to be horizontal, it doesn't particularly like dirt. They're supposed to be planted with their upper third exposed; if you plant them all the way underground, they won't grow. They also don't like wet feet, so well drained soil is important too. If the corm in the photo above looks a little dry, it is. But that's my naughty bad, not the company's-- the box came a few days ago, and I finally chucked these babies in tonight after work in the last few rays of light. Now they take root, snooze all winter, and grow next spring. That's what I like about fall planting. It's like a promise you make to your garden, and to yourself, and to the future.
I thought about that as I was shoveling soil: making promises for the future. The second job is sort of like that too, since I'm hoping the extra income will lead to some good things for my little Cape Cod, like a new roof and some other critical upgrades. Gardening makes me philosophical that way.
Have a good weekend with your own homesteads. Me, I still have this waiting in the corner of the kitchen:
But I've decided not to blog about the kitchen painting project again until I have something to show for my work. That ought to keep me motivated. At any rate, it's a break from a full week of figuring out the tab stops on my Smith Corona.