The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

There has been an Easter miracle in my very own home: a blessed resurrection in the backyard ~ Fish is alive again and swimming around just fine. I thought he was dead, in fact, the fishy equivalent of nailed to the perch, but he must have been resting. He really has gotten huge and beautiful; for some strange reason the water in the bathtub has cleared up a bit and I got to truly see him today. I'm wondering if I could sell him on Ebay as an exotic Koi and/or the Second Coming, but that would be mean and unfair to Fish, not to mention a logistical nightmare. I doubt those federal express mail pouches are all that water tight. In other good news, the bank got back to me and has placed a fraud alert on my account, although on calm reflection I have realized that a) there probably wasn't a checkbook in the glove compartment and b) the kind of people who dedicatedly search your entire car but end up taking only about 73 cents in filthy pennies and some hippie jewelry are probably not the same kind of people who go in for identity theft.

Also, I put in about 3 solid hours worth of work on the garden and yard and it's starting to look good. I have made a resolution to work in the garden one or two hours a day from now on; this will trim my waistline, which is woefully in need of some major slimming down action and make my garden look awesome, or at least like somebody at some point did something out there besides drink beer and smoke cigarettes while staring at the weeds and sighing. This is good, but in the bad category, it occurs to me that if I spend an hour a day, every day for the next five years, doing nothing but ripping out honeysuckle and wild blackberries, I may make a tiny dent in one corner of the yard which will probably immediately fill up with poison ivy or kudzu.

In the bad category, my organic gardening status is really falling down. Not only am I going to spray the roses for black spot again this year, because otherwise they inevitably get, what else, black spot and all the leaves fall off (yeah, thanks, I tried the cornmeal and the aloe and the dish detergent and walking widdershins around them naked chanting to the vegetable god - no dice) but at Lowes today I bought a giant industrial sized plastic jug of deadly plant poison and I proceeded to spray it on the aforementioned wild blackberries that are intent on taking over my yard. I know, I know, this is wrong and evil and bad in so many ways, but I'm tired of being ripped to shreds while trying to mow the lawn or plant anything, and every year they get bolder and more aggressive. I tried pulling them out by the roots, and maybe it's something that Baron Sacher von Masoch could have gotten into for kicks, but those thorns go all the goddamn way down into the ground and they can penetrate anything I'm wearing.

And the Ugly category: I'm pulling my personal ad off ActForLove.org because in two or three weeks, despite the fact that everyone says that all women get at least a couple of emails from losers on all internet dating sites, I have not gotten anything but three winks, one of which came from somebody named KinkyMaster. I am a woman, so far as I know, and there's even a picture of me up there, wearing a skirt and a tight shirt; hell, I must be a woman, because not only have I borne & breast fed kids, I've been known to enjoy shopping for clothes, I crave chocolate once a month and, final proof, I've gone and paid someone money to wax my eyebrows, something men simply do not do. Except for metrosexuals, I guess, but I hardly ever meet any of those. But according to online dating, I guess I am not female, or, I am so creepy I can't even attract the creeps. Except KinkyMaster. I'm not quite desperate enough yet for KinkyMaster - besides, he lives in Raleigh. So fuck it: I can feel insecure, hideous and unlovable all by myself without the help and validation of the internets, and thus the profile shall vanish in a puff of metaphorical smoke.