Drear

We haz it.  Not cold, not warm, overcast and breezy, damp but not raining.  That's what dreary is and it's here.  Today I really need to clean up the yard, getting up leaves and dragging all the dead stuff down to the curb because it said in the newspaper the other day that the leaf pickup will end soon, that they've already extended it into November and need to get all the machinery, etc. ramped up and ready for winter.  Guess that means I have to too.  Although I don't think Mother Nature's totally on board with autumn.  What makes me think that is, see, our maple tree was pretty much leaf-free when we got home from our vacation in mid-October, but the neighbors' much bigger maple tree was still vivid green.  That was three weeks ago.  Now the neighbors' tree leaves have turned yellow and fallen, falling like rain last Wednesday when it was windy.  Today I noticed that those trees are essentially bare but at the end of the block, about 100 yards away, is a green tree and one of the row of trees behind us is green too.  What is up with that??!??   At least the wind today is in a cooperative direction so it won't be blowing leaves back at me when I'm raking/blowing... maybe I'll mow, I have to swap the mower and blower today anyway so once I get a bottle of gas preservative I could mulch the daylights out of the leaves on the lawn and only have to deal with the ones on the patio.  I leave the garden ones alone--they're winter cover, right?

I actually had customers yesterday.  Custom-erzzzzz.  Like, more than one.  And they bought things, not only airfills.  I felt like a real sales person there for a minute.  Huzzah.  Next week I work four days again with Wednesday off (so I'll have a day to walk Porter) and then Mrs. Boss comes home for a while (we can only hope) at least, that is, until her planned "shop" dive trip to Curacao in February.  (what do you want to bet she works in a ski trip in January?)  I'll be glad when she's back, I like my familiar rut.  (I suspect that's a bit of envy talking; I don't really mind working different days and all that packing and flying would probably get old really fast, but it sure looks like fun.)

November 9--Vincent van Gogh, Oleanders.  Pam could smell the rotten flowers from the top of the stairs.  She should have thrown them out the night before but she forgot.  By the time she walked into the front room the morning sun was streaming in the window, heating up the metal jug they were in.  That sent the odor of dead flowers in stagnant water wafting through the whole house.  She breathed through her mouth as she carried the reeking mess out the back door to dump it on the compost pile.  Her rescue mutt, Bingo, loped at her side.  She removed the clutch of nearly dead blooms and dropped them on top of the heap, then she poured the smelly water out on the ground.  A pale pink disk poured out too.  She bent to peer at it and was horrified to see a human ear.  Bingo darted forward, picked up the ear, tossed it up, then caught it again.  "No, Bingo, no," she yelled and grabbed for the dog.  Thinking they were playing, Bingo stayed just out of Pam's reach.  "Drop it, you crazy dog," she said.  "Just don't eat it," she said under her breath.  She sat down in the dewy grass at the thought.  Bingo trotted over and dropped his prize in her lap.  Pam fished a tissue from her pocket and got up to call the police.  She lived alone.  Bingo hadn't barked and he always barked at strangers.  She wondered whose ear it was and how it had gotten into a vase of flowers in her parlor.

Yikes.  I have no idea where that ear came from.  And not a clue why the dog didn't gobble it down.  Author's license, I guess.  If you figure it out, let me know.  Seems like time to find something to eat and then get this day on the road, my to-do list is too long to spend the day knitting on the couch (which is what I'd like to do).  Plus I need to finish up my presentation for Thursday night's Bay Lakes Knitting Guild meeting.  (whatever possessed me to say I'd do that I do not know.)  Adios.
--Barbara