Camping & Conventions Do Not Mix

To clarify: Camp Grandma and any conflicting events are not advisable. Upon returning from the annual convention, I found a messy house and a very unhappy camper.

My hubby.

The same man who assured me things would be fine, go ahead and go, blah, blah, blah, had an aloof and irritated manner under the surface. I recognized this because I also am a pouter. Although he urged me to go, he seemed resentful that I was not there to run things.

Everything ran smoothly, no one was hurt, arrested, or otherwise. But I was not there. He could not depend on me to handle things. You know, the things that he pays no attention to when I am there. Many things are handled that he knew nothing about. Until I wasn’t there to handle them. Bad Grandma.

When resentments build up in your mind, they eventually find their way out. While the dust settles, a tense, misty-eyed silence ensues until the one who exploded approaches and explains what just happened. We quietly explain our emotions. Then we hug and make mental notes to ourselves to pay more attention to each other’s feelings in the future.

Even strong, loving relationships can hit a momentary roadbump. Humans are not perfect beings. We all know this, and yet somehow we expect the ones we know and love to be.

Which is completely ridiculous.


The Strong Survive

After one month, the ‘forgotten flower’ seed pot now has three larger sprouts, and the tiny, wispy ones have faded away.

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I transplanted an avocado tree into a bigger pot and added soil to the other trees, then fed everybody. I had to take a shower afterwards, as I managed to soil myself (so to speak), just like baking. The flour mess is incredible. I have some fabric with a cute gardening print that I have been saving to make myself an apron. The time has come to do just that. In my spare time, of course. Maybe while hubby is at the rodeo this weekend…

Spring/Summer weather is finally stabilized. I love waking up, and the room is warm. Our windows are open, and fresh, warm air (along with dust, pollen, and the occasional skunkiness) wafts through the screens. We locals refer to this as “Mountain Air.” Way more preferable than the “Country Air” one experiences on Interstate 5. If you live in California, you know the stretch of road I’m talking about.

I would be remiss if I neglected to give you an update on my table garden.

The Table Garden

The table is positioned near the corner of the deck, to the right of the French doors. It is a monstrous metal and glass concoction. Because the glass top is coming loose from the steel frame, we rarely use it.

The eyesore it is, we keep it because it is perfect to hold plants, kids’ crafts, and put together puzzles. We just have to remember that we cannot lean on the table. We know this rule, and yet even Grandma is guilty of disturbing the glass. It needs to be washed off and covered for summer. In my spare time, of course.

[My spare time will be this week because Camp Gma opens this weekend and there are messy crafts planned.]

An interesting dilemma has come up. My smallest avocado tree registers on my Chat Plant app as a “Shea” plant. Unless you can grow a Shea tree from an avocado seed, one of us is wrong.

To be Continued…