tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84826285572843177902023-11-15T09:24:36.847-05:00La jardinière constanteThe misadventures of a Pixburgher in Balmer, Murlan. Who also grows plants n'at.Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.comBlogger232125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-74356141452331781192012-02-28T23:37:00.004-05:002012-02-28T23:42:12.026-05:00masochism, or just plain nuts?Hello, poor neglected blog. I've... been a little busy.
Make that a lot busy.
Make that ZOMG what was I thinking? busy.
Yeah, nothing quite like a heapin' helpin' of WTF was I thinking, piling on this madness while dealing with, you know, the soul-crushing grief (yes, still-- and don't judge unless you've also experienced something like my 2011), the unending insanity I can't talk aboutConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-15817995381896196182012-01-04T01:36:00.000-05:002012-01-04T01:37:57.364-05:00A (wo)man said to the universe:A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!"
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”
(apologies to Stephen Crane)
2012 is here (though perhaps not for too long, if the doomsayers are correct and you never know-- a broken clock is right twice a day). I'm unspeakably relieved that 2011 is done, without any more damage Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-12093867325926521222011-08-08T23:52:00.001-04:002011-08-08T23:53:09.625-04:00Splashed.I done did it. And I raised $421 for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. And I'm all swum out.. for now. My shoulders and triceps have felt like they're made of lead-- not sore per se, but heavy.
I didn't do great. I did downright awful. But I guess everyone's got to start somewhere.
I'm sure I'll forget enough (the suffocating panic that set in through the firstConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-59754942350425833132011-08-06T13:06:00.004-04:002011-08-06T13:13:39.549-04:00splash.I'm about to leave for the pool for my last practice before tomorrow's big swim. Just a short, kick-heavy practice. My triceps were a little sore yesterday from Thursday's work, and then my contact started hurting on the one night I forgot my glasses and I had to cut everything short. Bleh. Not that it matters, because my practice has gotten so screwed up these past two Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-50187407925256810742011-07-31T09:32:00.003-04:002011-07-31T14:33:31.864-04:00Here we go again.I'm so over 2011. Can we move on to 2012 yet? The universe clearly wasn't done having fun at my expense this year, and now I've lost both grandmothers and my brother in the space of four months. Of course, my training for my big swim is wrecked with just one week to go. I'm physically and mentally exhausted. It's not just this latest loss, that of my other Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-22111062764533352862011-07-18T22:16:00.003-04:002011-07-18T22:17:02.575-04:00Swim, fat chick, swim!On the plus side, I can tolerate a swim suit again on my toasted back (which is still pink and peeling for the second time-- EW-- but the pain is, well, not quite gone but acceptably deep seated enough to ignore). On the down side, getting my first real taste of swimming out "there" in the cove (and not within the defined guarded beach) was a rude awakening. I sucked, which...well, Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-84992297538588299202011-07-12T21:37:00.004-04:002011-07-12T21:44:44.962-04:00crisped critterDear blog,
Long time, no write. What can I say, it's turning into a hectic summer. Which probably isn't the worst thing in the world, because that means a little less time to ruminate and cry, but it's also not leaving me much time for myself. Or things like laundry and litterboxes.
The hollowness from losing my brother is cementing itself pretty well in place. It's justConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-57479060488213692782011-06-21T20:24:00.002-04:002011-06-21T20:56:53.444-04:00The sun's setting early on the longest day of the year thanks to the coming storm. Rain. Shower? It'll probably peter out before anything actually falls. It's weird. Among the things I miss most about Pittsburgh is the weather. Sure, transplants-- and natives-- bitch endlessly about the lack of sunny days, but I liked having a lower risk of skin cancer and I liked my landscapes green. In Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-90559316060232804812011-06-04T08:35:00.000-04:002011-06-04T08:35:21.839-04:00snap!So my parents surprised me with a new camera, and now I've graduated from my going on six year old Kodak point and shoot to a Nikon DSLR. Which is pretty cool. I mean, my Kodak has been a great camera. It's simple to use, it's gone most everywhere with me the past five years, and I've taken some pretty decent (if I may say so myself) pictures with it. Like Troy Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-14361525417769490122011-06-01T21:36:00.001-04:002011-06-01T21:45:32.066-04:00hot and botheredI know that Memorial day is the unofficial start of summer, but it's quite literally the day I cried uncle to Baltimore. Something about an extra hour of traffic, non-functional air conditioning, a 94 degree apartment and miserable felines, and watching my incredibly straight (the straightest caucasian hair around) hair downright curl that just caused a SNAP! kind of moment. But it's okay now.Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-49115842858084246072011-05-24T22:18:00.000-04:002011-05-24T22:18:19.928-04:00masochist, or just plain nuts?I'm starting to look at doctoral programs. Clearly academic amnesia has set in. Plus... it's going to cost me. I'd rather work and attend school part time (we'll pretend it's an all consuming hobby), and because the two programs I'm interested happen to be at private schools, it's going to cost a lot. A lot- a lot. As in, I can either pursue a doctorate or buy a house before I'm 40. Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-36950740482723671432011-05-22T22:07:00.000-04:002011-05-22T22:07:31.676-04:00stll here. ish.Long time, no blog. What can I say? I've been trying to reclaim something that resembles a life (between spending most weekends on the road), but my efforts all ring false and hollow. My poor cats are none too thrilled that I spend relatively little time at home, and what time I do spend here is spent actively engaged in some distraction or sobbing in a fetal position. I exaggerate for Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-85161605582447884832011-04-28T21:26:00.001-04:002011-04-28T21:27:19.182-04:00::insert clever blog post title here::Oh Penguins, my Penguins. They did better than I thought they would, given how the season went. But still.
Wow. Almost 1/3 of the way through the year, and I'm frankly pressed to come up with anything good to say about 2011. Some well-meaning souls have noted that I'm doing so well. In actuality, I'm holding on by the tips of my raggedy fingernails, gritting my teeth to make it through eachConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-53029014324765636152011-04-25T23:46:00.000-04:002011-04-25T23:46:51.213-04:00gimme some rope, I'm coming loose..I've been listening to Wasting Light on repeat. I do love me some Foos. Wasting Light may not be a life-altering album, but it's solid and pretty much what I'd hoped for and not entirely unlike aural comfort food (even though it really makes me want to learn how to play guitar). The Letterman webcast? Pretty fricking amazing. Thank you guys for your most excellent timing with this release.Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-7893266763917492182011-04-20T17:49:00.000-04:002011-04-20T17:49:25.349-04:00give until it hurtsI started donating blood regularly because of my brother. I teased him almost every time I donated telling him that I was paying the blood bank back for all of his withdrawals. Plus it never hurt to boost the supply in our shared type, however temporarily, just in case. But today was the first time I've donated in memory of my brother instead of because of my brother.
Not an opportune thought Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-59594568456274545292011-04-20T00:09:00.001-04:002011-04-20T00:10:41.777-04:00Yup. Definitely not the best day I've ever had.Well Nick, neither the Bucs nor the Yanks could pull it off today. And the Curve game was postponed (they're having an Al Tuna bobblehead giveaway on July 8th-- I think I have to go after missing the St. Francis bobblehead last season). I'm sorry they all played crappy baseball (or no baseball) for your birthday.
Happy birthday, Nick. Wherever you are.Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-49688863201634058312011-04-18T21:28:00.000-04:002011-04-18T21:28:01.639-04:00splat.Tomorrow should have been my brother's 29th birthday. I'm kind of prepared for it to not exactly be the best day I've ever had. Not that knowing makes it any easier. I can't not think that I should have booked a room in NY so we can go to a Yankees game. Or how much he'd love all of the crap going on for the Civil War sesquicentennial, all around me. I have those thoughts that I need to do Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-42048845461857897782011-04-11T01:13:00.001-04:002011-04-11T01:17:25.783-04:00Wicked insomnia tonight despite the precautionary measures I took. Unfortunately, it's too late to do much else. I'm screwed.
It's partly my own fault. I feel guilty for neglecting my apartment and plants and my poor, poor freaked out cats. I feel guilty not being physically present for my parents. And in my guilt-induced insomnia, I played with my phone and tried to clean up my texts. Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-78302220018439529472011-04-10T18:38:00.000-04:002011-04-10T18:38:22.625-04:00gimme, gimme shelter, or I'm gonna fade awayMy brother & I disagreed vehemently about music at times, but the intersection of our musical tastes included a shared intolerance for all Bruce Springsteen and Rush and appreciation of the Who, Rolling Stones, Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson, Hendrix, the Doors, Pink Floyd, and others. Of course, we rarely could agree on what we were in the mood for at any one given time when in the car together, soConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-84485883024337056872011-04-07T22:45:00.005-04:002011-04-09T19:04:56.637-04:00Because I clearly haven't been through enough lately, and because all politicians are at their core about as mature as your average two year old, there appears to be a pretty good chance that I'm going to be furloughed. Which, you know, after dropping cash like a madwoman on all of the incidentals that two deaths and funerals in a row seem to bring and with gas jumping to new heights and the Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-83150259791173950312011-04-04T21:18:00.000-04:002011-04-04T21:18:40.765-04:00My feeling of suffocation in the vacuum of loss isn't completely metaphorical. Apparently I'm having a common reaction to grief and breathing a little too shallowly. Good to know, I guess. I mean, I'm incapable of sleeping properly or holding a pen (shaky hands), so why should I assume that I'd be able to breathe properly?
I indulged in a few things from Amazon (some people are slaves to Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-10079420435906510162011-04-02T01:10:00.001-04:002011-04-02T05:36:30.387-04:00Opening day. Lots of pain. And not just the kind from Nutting-induced indigestion.
My brother was a baseball savant. I mean, it was kind of creepy at times. And how someone can be BOTH a Pirates and a Yankees fan, well. I take full responsibility for the Yankees thing (an unintentional consequence of a souvenir), but the Pirates thing? Well, you could call it quixotic. And hilarious. Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-36003713249740010592011-03-31T18:32:00.001-04:002011-03-31T18:32:38.509-04:00home againI drove home (funny calling Baltimore "home") last night in truly terrible weather, forced myself to go to work this morning, and got treated to a check engine light coming on as I pulled into the lot for my pains. Loverly. But. I'm home, and it's nice to sleep in my bed again and shower in my own shower. In the last two weeks, I've only spent three nights in my own bed. No wonder the brats Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-9483697265341237012011-03-28T22:55:00.001-04:002011-03-29T07:53:14.024-04:00I'm really beginning to hate funeral homes and obituaries and flowers and all of the accoutrements of death.
Because March clearly hasn't been bad enough yet, my grandmother passed away this morning following several days in a palliative care/ hospice type ward. Friday morning I was told they didn't think she'd make it through the night. So I left work, grabbed a suitcase still half filled Constant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8482628557284317790.post-68936993704942489882011-03-23T20:55:00.003-04:002011-03-23T22:29:14.771-04:00Cleaning my brother's watch tonight. It's taken a third of a bottle of rubbing alcohol and scores of q-tips and cotton balls to clean away the grime of working with his hands. Now it gleams, cleaner than it's been since it was new-- though etched and pitted and scratched and dinged.
I looked on my brother's face for the last time on Saturday. I never knew the last time I'd see him alive wouldConstant Gardenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00773400570805939973noreply@blogger.com0