Sunday, July 5, 2009

Has Anybody Seen a...Michael?


Well I am back. To say that I haven't enjoyed my hiatus from blogging would be a gross lie. And to say that I've reaped great satisfaction in shirking my journalistic duties would be true. Nonetheless, it's time to end the Summer slump and get back to the serious, world-changing duties of publishing my indispensable thoughts in my small corner of the world wide web.

The love of my life and I have not been idle these last couple of weeks. Hopefully between her blog and the Ford Retort, you'll be able to piece together a picture of what has been happening with us. We've had a wedding here, a wedding there, an outing here, an outing there, and of course a little bit of work. You know how it is.

I devoted some time and real estate on the Ford Retort to the master bathroom renovation that took place not long ago in our house. What received considerably less attention was a bit of landscaping in our yard that Jamie and I undertook. Thanks to the good folks over at Deep Roots, the moaning and groaning was considerably attenuated (they put in beds and borders; Jamie and I planted). I'm very pleased with the way everything turned out, but since I still haven't figured out who is responsible for making it rain, I've dragged miles and miles of hoses and sprinklers around the yard for the last month.

At our front door, Jamie planted several flats of Zinnias. Before we move along, I need to emphasize that these Zinnias belong to Jamie. I have nothing to do with them. I don't water them (unless it's with a bleach solution). I care for the them in no way. I hate a Zinnia! Given the choice between planting Zinnias and breeding African cockroaches, I'd say bring on the crawling critters (uhh...that made me shiver). Frankly, the Zinnia strikes me as a bland and uninteresting flower. It must be a flower that the French adore. Even more frankly, I think the French dog that lives next door to us is very fond Zinnias. You know the French dog...I've mentioned him before...he barks in French, strides in an uppity manner, and voted for Obama.

Winston never cared for the French dog, and I am confident he wouldn't have cared for Jamie's Zinnias. After all, Winston barked with a slight English accent, walked around with little sophistication, and voted for McCain (although he did so grudgingly due to McCain's faux conservative credentials). So if you stop by the house, please admire the aristocratic Japanese Maples and the variegated Monkey Grass, but if you kindly will, simply walk past the Zinnias.

1 comment:

Sarah Denley said...

Glad you're back....you're pretty much dead on about McCain. Also, your thank you note so eloquent. I had to share it with my mom, who is sort of an etiquette Nazi, and she had never seen such a well-written thank you note by a man!