Home alone

My weekend alone is nearly over, and it feels like it just flew by. Husband is returning from Atlanta tomorrow. Sister came back all happy and relaxed from my mom's house awhile ago, but then I had to take her to her dad's house shortly afterwards since he always has her on Mondays. Bean is here with me, but she's gone to bed a little early tonight, tired out from fighting an internal battle against the green snot monster. That stuff'll wipe a baby out.

I had a very pleasant Sunday indeed, and feel completely back to my regular self. All those tips I listed a couple of days ago for maintaining my sanity? They totally worked! In fact, I'm blogging right now on my second cocktail of the evening. So far no typos, 'cause I rocked my typing class in high school, but I may ramble a bit.

I spent both of Bean's naptimes today working in the yard. The weather here was a little chilly, but windy, clear, and gorgeous. I busied myself with pruning back all the honeysuckle vines and forsythia bushes that line a long stretch of our backyard for a good hour and a half, trying to make way for the fencers. It pained me to prune back the forsythia as much as I had to--all those little yellow flowers are just opening here. But if I'd left it to Husband to do, the carnage would've been far worse. I learned very shortly after we bought this house 3 years ago that my dear Husband is not to be trusted within a 10-foot radius of a pair of pruning shears. (Am I the only one out there whose spouse gets a terrible gleam in his eye at the prospect of taming some overgrown shrubs?) I also began to understand that there is a hierarchy of yardwork that I was previously unaware of. Pay attention, married female gardeners! Flowers and non-woody green plants are yours. Anything with bark that grows taller than your knee is the domain of the male. It doesn't matter one iota that your man doesn't have the slightest clue HOW to prune to make a plant healthy or shapely or less crowded in the center. Pruning shrubs and trees is just part of being a man, okay? Okay. So I had to sneak it in when he wasn't around.

I AM rambling, aren't I? Better go poke the fire and then poke around in the kitchen for some dessert...