Uterus Garden

My uterus fell out.

I can’t go to work with my uterus out. What will people think? Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get any work done.

Round and round thoughts like these circled in my head…. and then I woke up.

I didn’t lead with the fact that this was a dream because that’s usually when people walk away, zone out or log off (can you still log off? Is that even a thing anymore?).

This is not the typical underwear at work, falling off the side of a cliff or teeth falling out. It was incredibly specific and real. 

So naturally, I had to poll the women at work. “Um. Yes. Girls, what does it mean if your uterus falls out? Er, um, in a dream?”

One: Pregnancy

Two: Happy that you’re not having anymore kids. So happy that you don’t want your uterus anymore.

Three: OMG. LMAO.

Four: The internet says dreams about your uterus could mean you’re working on something creative.

Me: Like my garden?!

Four: Yes! That’s it!

And that’s how my garden got its name: Uterus Garden.

A pact with the wasps

I have a problem.

We moved into our new lakehouse without realizing that a family already occupied the house. A family of wasps.

Wasps scare the bejesus out of me. I’ve been stung by a wasp once. I was 14 and I’ll remember is that it’s the stuff of nightmares. The plan since then has been to avoid wasps altogether. Don’t go in their house and they won’t come in my house. We won’t be meeting for tea, we won’t swap recipes and neither of us will be getting hurt.

So here I am, unknowingly breaking the pact I made with waspkind¬†all those years ago. I did it. I did it to myself. And now, one of us has to go. I called the Bug Guy, or Master of the Creepy Crawlies, as I imagine him when I make the appointment. He came to my house and told me that I needn’t fear and my pact should hold firm because these are mud dauber wasps. “They’re not aggressive. They actually eat spiders. They won’t hurt you,” he promised.

After weighing the fear-pounds of spiders vs. wasps, I begrudgingly let him leave without spilling any wasp blood on my newly planted hostas.

These are good wasps.

These are good wasps.

These are good wasps.

I said repeatedly as I grabbed my hedge trimmers.

These are good wasps.

These are good wasps.

These are good wasps.

I plugged in the trimmer and readied the stance to clean up miles of boxwoods in front of my house. Then it began.

Bzzzzz!

Gah! What the-!? I smack my own face.

I look around. Nothing.

BZZZZZ!

AGHH! I jump and run across the lawn. Ok. That was a wasp.

After 5 minutes of repeatedly telling myself that “These are good wasps. They won’t hurt me.” I went back to the bushes and got back to work.Then left and right the wasps began dive bombing

As soon as I turned on the trimmer, they came out. Left, then right, then left again. The wasps were dive bombing me! I’m hopping and dancing across the lawn in a hibbity-jibbity manner as I try to get the bushes done.

My 8-year-old yelled that they won’t hurt me and I can only hope the neighbors don’t think I’m having some sort of seizure, what with all the spasming and neck wrenching.

I finally finish trimming the hedges. It looks like Edward Scissorhands first sculpture, maybe before he actually got good and was just hacking at foliage with his razor-blade fingers. But… the job is done. I guess.

Now the wasps have a less overgrown place to raise their wasp babies and peace between Danielle and waspkind¬†has been restored… until next time.

I don’t ask for much

I don’t ask for much. Just 15 minutes alone with a sandwich at a house by a lake.

When Donnie moved us out of our first home to downsize, I told him, “I’m never moving again, unless…. it’s to a house on a lake (half-joking) and we hire movers (totally serious).”

So when he switched jobs again and almost simultaneously found a house on a lake, I wasn’t sure how to react. Too good to be true. All I needed was 15 minutes and a sandwich and all my dreams would come true.

So put in an offer, it was accepted and all we had to do is sell our house, in two weeks before we left for our family vacation. That’s totally, completely, and in no way stressful at all (looks into xanax). 

We’ve been in this house for about a week and a half now and it still feels like a really long vacation. It wasn’t until I folded laundry this afternoon that it finally started feeling like home. We’ll probably be living out of boxes for the next five months or so but… at least we’ll be doing it while looking out at a beautiful lake. 

Now, to get me that sandwich.