|Lance struggling with making a windbreaker|
|New and improved windbreaker|
I've coined a new phrase and didn't realize it until my sister laughed at me. She called, asked what I was doing, and I said I was getting on my going into town clothes. The meaning, of course, changing out of dirty gardening clothes. I guess I do feel like I live way out there, and we do 'go into town.'
Adjusting. I'm still in that phase. I'm trying to decide which things I should keep working on and which I should say to hell with - let the situation adjust to me.
Okay - what to let go and what to adjust. I've complained about the dust before, and I'm not cleaning the floor everyday, but it still bothers me. Not adjusting. Until we moved here, I didn't kill - anything. Now, many bugs are my enemy. I've learned to kill. Adjusting. I like everything to have a place, and I do mean everything. No one else seems to care about this. I'm attempting to ignore or help others create places for their stuff. Halfway adjusting. We're on a fixed income. No more impulse buying. Adjusted. I prefer to write in the morning, when I feel most creative. BUT the garden work needs to be done in the morning before the heat is so overwhelming. So, I've found my afternoons can be creative. Adjusting most days.
And at the end of the day, my messy, dusty, unorganized existence is a happy one. I step outside, see the flowers on the perennials, the veggies in the garden and the lush green in the orchard. I sit with people I love at the table on the patio and share a meal (not cooked by me!), watch the sunset and enjoy.
I'll worry about the mess tomorrow. Unless I'm worrying about the wind or bugs taking out the plants.