Sorry. I've had a lot going on.

 

I've started a new post a number of times, and every time I got distracted or something came up and then then it just sort of fizzled out.

Stress will do that. Year two of a pandemic that most of the country seems content to ignore in some state of willful ignorance and acceptable losses. A new-to-me-car that developed issues almost immediately (The '16 CRV needed a new catalytic converter to the tune of $2k. The dealership made good on it, thank goodness.) More layoffs at work that have left me down another boss and out 6 direct coworkers. I'm the only one left in the States who does what I do. A bathroom that has been in a state of half demolition since last August. A living room in a state of half completion since December. A neighbor who is happy to fly Trump flags and other distasteful... yard adornments... that I get to look out at every day.
And a relationship that had run it's course, with a breakup that occurred right before Valentine's Day.
I have the best timing.

My front morning view taken through a piece of antique reclaimed red glass.

As the one who instigated the parting of ways, you'd think that I'd be all over this by now. But you'd be terribly wrong. My partner was my best friend and confidant, who I'd been with for close to ten years. We had grown together in many ways, starting that day in Boston when we didn't get blown up at the finish line only because of a last minute change of route and the grace of God. But we had started to grow apart as well, and though I hate to say that Covid killed our relationship, it drove home to me that we were built on shared experiences. When that was taken away, we were reduced to 2x a day phone calls. I experienced a frightening disphoria that I only was able to identify in hindsight. He had become a voice; when we were finally able to be together, his voice no longer matched the person I remembered in my head. For me, it became a process of meeting a new person every few months - a person that I was supposed to have intimate familiarity with - who wasn't who I remembered. His voice became uncoupled from his physical self in my head. There were a lot of other issues as well, related to distance and life's paths diverging.

I guess I've changed too, though I feel more like I've been standing still and the world has just past me by.

 

It has made working on the house - something I thought I would have more help with than I got, something I'm more comfortable working on specifically because of my relationship with him - hard. Sometimes impossible. Memories bubble up and won't leave me alone, so I walk away from the work bench and tools and try to figure out who the hell I am - who is this person who's lived in a strange sort of limbo for years - who may or may not be able to tolerate people in my space any more. At 1 month shy of 42, likely past my ability to have a family, it's.... daunting... to even consider what dating looks like today, and I wonder about my worth in the world and if I'm compatible with anyone left on earth. It's easy to doom-spiral when you can see as far backwards as you think you can project forward.
I guess that's why they call it a mid-life crisis.

When all else fails, find something hard to do,
like moving 2 yards of dirt one drywall bucket at a time.

So I'd better get a move on with the house, because there's no knight in shining armor who's going to show up and do it for me, never mind that if I want it done and done right, I'd better do it myself. (Which, if you've had any sort of therapy, you'll recognize as absolutely not a healthy coping mechanism. But it is what it is, and it's what I've got left.)

I've completed the raised beds out back as much as I'm able to at this time. Built the last far back bed, ordered 2 yards of dirt and got everything filled. The dirt isn't great and needs some amendments, but with the cost of gas right now, it was actually cheaper than having some driven down from the farm.

Before the last bed (far back right)

Trying out the hugelkulture method of bed-filling (fill the bottom with wood).
It'll rot and break down, and most garden plant roots don't got that deep anyway.
It will probably take the box with it when it goes. But that's a tomorrow's money problem.

Bye wood! Rot peacefully!

All three beds (two are 3' x 16', the one closest to the house is 2' x 16') are done. I'm considering a load of mulch for between them - after I fence it off, mowing it turns into a pain in the neck.

I'm also considering 2 yards of crushed stone for the bottom of the driveway. Everyone cuts the curb, which had made it sort of a muddy mess, and now I've caught the postman turning around here (which is fine) but he also missing the pavement. We'll see.

⥈

I participated in a fundraiser for the Bangor Humane Society to help my friend Monique - you make a  donation, they take the image of a pet you submit and assign it to a random artist. You could get a professional, or you could get a picture from the local 1st grade art class (that's part of the fun - you have no idea). These were the three pictures I came up with. Short haired dogs are the best, but I got better with fur on the grey cat. Considering I haven't painted in a very long time, and never seriously, I don't think these are embarrassing.

I also washed the screens and got them in, which is terribly exciting.

I went into Boston for Palm Sunday, which I hadn't done in over 2 years. While I was there, I decided to take in the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum. I'd forgotten that none of the art is labeled, which drives me nuts, but I guess it's part of the directions of the trust. (She didn't have to label anything, and wanted it to stay the way she had it when she lived there.)
The courtyard is stunning, as always.

More people than I prefer these days, but so pretty.

⥈

Any who. I promise to try to be better about regular posts, but sometimes it's hard to tell if anything is really worthy content. 

Until next time, remember that evening snuggles and ice cream are two very good things.

(Ice cream sandwich not featured in this photo.)