Garden Plan

I'm working on planning the garden for next year. Last year, we didn't do much in it because our garden is so crappy sun-wise and I didn't really have time to get into a pissing contest with our downstairs neighbour (she kept trying to plant things where we had already planted things...."I was thinking about putting some garlic here, what do you think?" "Um. That's my herb garden. See these plants I'm picking right now? I put them in my food to make it taste better." I won't talk about her destroying our mint - it's too upsetting.

This  year, however, I will have time to stake my claim properly. And with carte blanche from Steve to do whatever we like to the garden in the name of vegetable growing, I intend to get rid of the ugly, invasive tiger lilies from the front patch and plant tomatoes there. Beans and peas in the area we have previously used for tomatoes (they will supposedly do better with less sun than tomatoes). The really exciting part of the plan is that we are going to experiment with container gardening on the roof of the garage: eggplant and sweet pepper.

Cookie Exchange

I'm going to a friend's cookie exchange party this afternoon. I am a good cook, but not being that into baked goods besides pies, I don't make them very often, so I'm not all that practiced and I don't have a "special secret killer cookie recipe". I made 2 kinds: glazed lemon and snickerdoodles. Ryan wanted snickerdoodles. They are never my first choice - I just do not see the point in them, eternally not cinnamony enough, I always feel that I could do just as well eating sugar on toast. I added extra cinnamon this time, still not cinnamony enough.

Anyway. I talked to Casey yesterday, who introduced me and the other friend and found out that I am going to meet a girl, my age, who just had a baby and "is very active".

I think that people are conspiring because I put a facebook post up the other day that read, "Hello mini-retirement/last 7 months of freedom" and this was cause for concern: some people don't understand my sardonic sense of humor. Also: I'm a little resentful because it's not like I don't already have enough fucking people telling me exactly what pregnancy is like/going to be/how I will feel/etcetera. Also: I feel annoyed that I can't complain, darkly, jokingly, as I do about everything else under the sun, but this subject is some how taboo. I come from the perspective that there is humor in every situation. And if I can't laugh about this then I will probably cry, because so far (this is for you all those women that say, "Oh I loved being pregnant, it was so amazing), it has sucked a lot.

However, just because I've been a miserable pregnant lady so far and not gushing about babies to everyone or rushing to pick up stranger's babies and posting pictures of my uterus on twitter, it really doesn't mean that I am not going to love my baby or not be a good mother. Promise.

My week.

I've given myself 4 days: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and today. These 4 days were for indulgences, particularly today: I have not done much today besides read 67%* of "The Year of Magical Thinking" by Joan Didion.

On Monday, my boss, fed up with me missing work due to morning sickness, declared me useless, implied I was untrustworthy and asked why I even bothered coming in at all. I won't lie: it hurt at the time. I'm not really all that upset though, because, despite the shock of having a grown man childishly storm into my office, rifle through my things, hurl insults at me and then storm out, I also know exactly what I did at that job and know that I am a) useful and b) trustworthy. I just got pregnant, which, as far as I can tell, I am allowed to do. So, these 4 days haven't been me wallowing in depression. I'm pretty sure. After he left my office, I emailed him a note saying I wouldn't be returning.

At the time, I didn't know how I was going to react. I came home in tears and lay down on one of the dog beds with Jeeves for awhile. Rather sadly memetic and cliché, I sobbed into his fur. He's a good sport and puts up with this from time to time. Then I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was going to be one of those weeks or months where I couldn't face waking up in the mornings or going to sleep at night.

I pulled my shoes off and crawled into bed.

People keep asking me if I'm excited to be pregnant. I can't give them the "correct" answer because excited isn't really the word for it. I'm never excited about things until after they've happened. I'm not overly friendly to people I don't know that well and I have always had a revulsion towards the false, immediate intimacy that is so expected of women these days. False emotions go along with that and I simply can't say,  "Yes! Oh my god, I'm over the moon!"

What I am is: Apprehensive. A little scared about a number of things. Looking forward to it. Anxious about a number of things. Curious. Aware.

Anyway. I woke up after my nap and Ryan came home. He seemed pleased not to find me bawling. I was a bit surprised myself, but, I really think I'm not all that stressed because my boss was and is just plain wrong. It would be more upsetting if I had actually screwed up. Believe me, as someone who has spent a lifetime perfecting turning feeling horribly guilty about things that have barely anything to do with me into catalysts for debilitating, crippling, depression, I am certain that if there was a grain of truth to what I was accused of, I probably would have jumped out a window.

Instead, I did the dishes and ate some lasagne ad thought about what I plan to do next week, after my miniature holiday is over.



*I have a Kindle, so I know.