Season 2 of New Girl just debuted on Netflix.

I’m not much of a TV while-it’s-happening person at all. I can’t get into it. And with my daddy’s love of HDTV and all that comes with it, everything seems to look more like an episode of Jimmy Neutron than what I’ve always associated with TV. I like lines on my flat people.

I wholeheartedly enjoy movies, as my collection attests. I like to watch them over again whenever it strikes my fancy. Good movies and good books share a problem: they end too soon. So I am addicted to television shows, on my computer, netflix or dvd. Sure, they often last much much longer than they should, leaving the loyal watcher slamming his or her head into any available flat surface wondering why they couldn’t have allowed the show to die a merciful death. It happens to most shows, the Andy Griffith Show being a prime example. I love Andy Taylor, Barney, Opie, Aunt Bea, Thelma Lou, Helen, Gomer, Goober, Otis, Floyd, the Darlin’s, Ernest T. Bass, the whole cast. I’ve seen every black and white episode at least a half dozen times. That is where my loyalty stops though. I cannot stomach the color episodes. With the color came change, and with the change went too many favorite characters and too many favorite story lines.

I do not dedicate hours of my precious time only to be tortured by people “leaving”, but it happens nonetheless. When Eric Forman left his basement to be replaced by Randy Pearson, it seemed a good time to stop watching. When Morgan Matthews returned from “the longest timeout ever” I was confused and had to go back a season to make sure I was remembering properly. I wouldn’t go for years having this boy as my brother and oh, well, he’s decided to go to Africa and make a difference, so I’m going to replace him with this other boy who sort of looks the same. Sort of.

Few shows, if any, end as well as they began, but they still get me addicted. Until about season 6.


The Truth of The Matter

Honestly, I am overwhelmed.

To begin with, I have a tendency to bring plants home from work. It’s a serious problem. But apparently it affects everyone who works at the garden center. My only problem is that my plants tend to leave my car and find their (semi) permanent home somewhere on the ground (sometimes) somewhere near where I intend for them to live. There they exist until supreme guilt sets in and I plant and water them. And there they struggle on until I get around to mulching them (still hasn’t completely happened). And then more plants half-die, or something new I just have to have comes in, and the process starts all over. Self control is an issue, it seems.

And then there is the issue of the vegetable garden. I’m an avid planter, and an avid eater, but not an avid picker or weeder. I have plenty of fall and winter seed to get into the ground, but my extremely late squash plants are blooming profusely so I don’t want to pull them up yet.

The squash blooms naturally bring me to the honeybees which seem to be doing well though I haven’t inspected recently. I should, as well as treat for varroa mites and begin preparing them for the winter. It’s on the to-do list, long and never ending.

Christmas presents. I have an itch to get my shopping started and finished. What do you give a brother in the Navy? On a ship?

Writing. I used to write. The thirst for putting words on paper was in my blood. But two completed books, three or four or five halves of books, trying to force myself to put words on paper, it quenched my thirst and was no more. There is an inkling coming back. I don’t want to scare it by jumping in too soon, so I intend to nurture it along gently.

To top my whole pile of overwhelmed off, I’m coordinating a craft fair in November, also setting up a booth to sell my wares. I have yet to figure out exactly which wares to focus on, much less create a stockpile of such wares.

And yet, every single morning (or five days a week, to be honest) I get to drive to work looking at a sunrise so breathtaking my camera won’t do it justice. And everything is not only okay, it is good. It is well.

Things That Never Fail

If you (I), go to a library book sale, you (I) will end up buying more books than you can possibly read in your (my) busy, day-to-day life. Not counting the ones you (I) have at home, unread, from the last book sale.

If you (I) decide not to start anymore projects until you (I) have finished a few of your (my) unfinished projects, the only thing you (I) will see on pinterest is projects that need started.

If you (I) go on a diet, suddenly everyone is eating all of these delicious amazing foods that you (I) cannot have.

If you (I) determine not to purchase any more yarn until you (I) have found a purpose for the yarn you (I) already have, your (my) mother will give you (me) her entire yarn stash.

If you (I) make a resolution to de-stress, everything will conspire against us.

If you (I) decide you’ve (me again) taken on too much and you (I) will not bring home another single plant until all of the other plants are planted and mulched, you’ll (I’ll) be offered free plants. (y’all should see my heaps of liriope and mondo grass)

If you (I) resolve to save as much money as possible, suddenly there are amazing sales on bee supplies. And if you (I) plan on expanding your (my) apiary interests by two hives next spring, you (and I) must take advantage of things like free shipping on orders of $100 or more over at Mann Lake Ltd.

*this has not been a commercial