Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Possible Whiff of Spring

Here in my valley this is the time of year where we gardeners start thinking about planting, designing flower beds, raised beds and cold frames.  If we are lucky we have a green house and start planting our peas and other cooler weather food plants. 

Me?  Well, since I'm not sure where I will be this summer, I am concentrating on a food garden at a friends place where she can take care of the harvest if needed and my raised beds are going to be mostly delegated to wildflowers and sunflowers.  The potato bed can just do it's thing. 

One of the biggest problems I've been having is getting things done outside, by myself.  Since the progression of my MS I just don't have the strength to do certain things by myself anymore.  Wait, what? Yeah.  I highly dislike asking the Hubby for help or even the Man-Child.

If you have ever had a project in your head, or even partially on paper and you have had to ask someone for help on one tiny, little thing like, um, let's say "lifting something heavy from "A" to "B"  and then they decide to stay and hang around, you will totally understand what I am going to get at here. 

What Really Happened

     "Honey?  Can you help me lift this big-ass board?", I asked.
     "What board?"  That one?  You can't lift that by your self?  OK, look out." He says while trying to hide a deep sigh.
     "I don't think you can either, so let's do it together. I need it over there," I said, gesturing where I wanted it, "just lean it on that tree there."
     "I can get it by myself if you just guide me." he claims.
     After ten minutes of him struggling to move this thing alone, he stops, wipes the sweat off of his brow and exclaims, "Well, aren't you going to help me?  This thing isn't light you know!".
     The board is now where I want it and I would just like him to go back into the house so I can finish my project.  But no, that is not going to happen.  
     The Hubby starts looking around at my organized mess and decides he needs to "help".  "Please, oh please, just go back in the house." I prayed.  But it was not going to happen.  He spent the next 30 minutes telling me how much easier it would be if I did this or that, waving his arms, gesturing and pointing at different angles of what I had started. And how it would be smarter to do basically everything a whole different way.  His. 
     I started putting my mess away as soon as I realized he was not going to go back in the house, and by the time he was done with this monologue I was washing my hands with the garden hose, pleading fatigue and although I know he means well, I was wishing I would have never asked him to help.

What Happened in His Man-Mind

     "Yup, the wife the other day had to have me help her build a whole damn flower bed.  She had everything planned out in her head, but I always end up finishing it alone."

Asking the Man-child to do anything is like pulling teeth, and then when I finally get him to sort of do the project, he has come up with a whole list of reasons why it would be best if we just did nothing at all.  He can be quite convincing sometimes. 

Well, I think I'm gonna go out and weed.  When you have an uncontrollable urge to kill something . . . might as well be a weed.


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