Maybe It Doesn’t Help

Asking for help doesn’t seem to be as effective as I advertise it to be. “Ask for help! Don’t go through it alone!” It seems that asking for help just makes people think you are crazy. And makes them think a) they are saviors to your cause, making it about them rather than about the hurting person, or b) they get angry because you’ve lost your marbles and the inconvenience of it pisses them off.

Either way, not what I was expecting. And I won’t ask for help again.

Simply Flawed

I don’t enjoy feeling like someone is angry at me, and not knowing what I did. No one enjoys it, I’m sure. It does seem like some people deal with it a bit better than others, though. Water off a duck’s back and such. Wish I could be that way. But instead, I’m a dweller. An over-analyzer. And possibly somewhat paranoid.

Character flaw. Just adding it to the list now. Some days I feel there are just far too many flaws than time to fix them.

I’m tired today, and so grateful it’s Friday. My job is a heavy backpack that I like to sling onto the floor with a clunk once Friday at five rolls around. Then comes the disappointment over those all too high Friday night expectations. I’m not 25 any more. Hell, I don’t know if I was ever 25. I’ve been a mom since 18. On once you’re a mom, there seems to be no age but your child’s.

I’m out of energy, out of motivation, and running out of hope in this dead end high desert disaster. The barrenness sometimes seeps right into me, gets me to the core, and I have to do what I can with books and home facials and online shopping to get to another day.

My life is measured by the delivery of Amazon boxes.

At least it’s something.

Going Back

It’s the depths of winter here in rural Wyoming. It’s draining. It’s disheartening. And it seems never-ending. It’s a strange, isolated place. And oftentimes, I feel like a strange, isolated interloper who has gotten a bit lost and just planted myself here, perhaps because there’s nowhere else to go.

I miss being able to see the ground.

I’ve been writing on a different blog for the last while, because I felt like I needed to do something different, go off in a new direction, even if the movement only took place online. It didn’t help at all. I still feel a little bit stuck, still wonder what I’ll be when I grow up, and still am not sure what series of events has led me to being who and what I am at this point in my middle-age.

I’m not miserable. Just somewhat bored, restless, a little stir-crazy. But, truly, everything is fine, with maybe just a tinge of blah.

There’s a really creepy little place a few miles out of town, called Teddy Bear Corner. No one knows its history, but for decades, people have taken old teddy bears and stuffed animals out to Teddy Bear Corner, and strapped them to a post.

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People think it’s funny. Endearing, even. I find it to be hideously bizarre, bordering on macabre. The way those stuffies just hang there, bleaching in the sun, gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies. This is a strange, strange place. That photo is a summertime photo. I didn’t take it. It’s from the news. Teddy Bear Corner is a regional curiosity-slash-atrocity. At this very moment, Teddy Bear Corner is probably, literally, buried in six feet of snow. Literally. I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that.

So, I’ve addressed the facts that it’s snowy and it’s strange. It’s also cold. It’s so cold, that many weekends, when the roads aren’t closed due to drifting snow, we escape to Salt Lake City for some warmth. And Salt Lake City in winter isn’t exactly a tropical paradise. But it’s usually about 20 degrees warmer than my front yard, so I’ll take it. And it also has about three feet less snow…

So by mid-June, all of our snow should probably be melted, and I might be able to plant a few flowers, which the deer will promptly eat. This will annoy me, but it will be fun to see the deer, so I’ll just replant with deer resistant salvia. I know I should just plant the salvia to start with, but I love planting flowers of all colors and varieties, so I’ll plant my deer food anyway, and take pictures, so that I have record that my yard was pretty once, for about five minutes in June.

Wyoming has the coldest summers in the continental United States. This is something I actually like, because extreme heat makes me faint. I don’t know of a single home in town that has central cooling. It just doesn’t get warm enough to justify the expense. I have a little portable air conditioner on wheels. I used it three afternoons last summer, not consecutively. Summers are sublime, but Seriously-So-Short. Tomatoes have to be shipped in from Utah. We can’t grow tomatoes here. We have to grow things from Siberia like turnips. Turnips under little mesh tents, so that the deer don’t eat the greens.

I’m bound and determined to grow a tomato plant in a five gallon bucket this year. I’m going to lug that thing outside for some July sunshine, and pull it back inside at night. If I’m successful, and get a tomato or two, I just might cry. I’m actually certain I’ll cry. I cried when I saw the first tip of a tulip leaf last year. I actually said out loud, “Holy Mother of God.” And then I promptly took a picture, and later that day…yep…deer.

Now, I do count it as a “blessing” (Oh, how I HATE that word…but anyway…) that I live in a place where deer frequent my yard…frequently…  But dammit, I’d like to be able to eat my own lettuce, see a Columbine bloom, and have my LED-lit fairy cottage and its matching furniture and pink flamingos not be trodden on by so many little feet.

It’s probably time to stop whining now, and just finish my herbal tea. Oh, but before I go, I must just quickly say that I have no TV channels (we don’t get them here), and my little Hyundai has been parked in the garage since late October, because it can’t navigate all of the snow. It has to hibernate all winter, and I have to drive a way-too-big pick-up truck.

But at least we have Internet. And Teddy Bear Corner. Wanna come visit? 😉