This week has been a week.
There are so many things going on that make me feel sad, furious, and helpless all at once.
My son seems to have figured out my patterns.
As he stood, scratching my back—I seem to have taken the place of the family dog—and the music for The West Wing starts;
“I know you are stressed about politics when you start rewatching The West Wing.”
Just like that.
I am not used to people seeing my patterns like that. I like operating from behind the curtain.
But he catches things. Probably better than anyone in the family.
Yes… The West Wing is my comfort show. That theme music is like a bowl of ice cream for my stressed-out soul.
The West Wing, with its Sorkin optimism, led by what they referred to as an intellectual elite President—I would give anything to have that now—and a staff led by Leo, who, in his curmudgeon raspy voice, always had heart behind everything.
The problems of twenty years ago still plague us, but after watching an episode, I always felt we learned a little and elevated the conversation a bit. Reminding us that the world is complex. Issues can’t be watered down to a campaign slogan or sound byte for the news.
A lot happened behind those once magnificent walls of the White House.
Now I feel like the beginning of Married with Children, with all the green trash slop thrown on it. It’s Mad Magazine come to life.
It has been a week.
Somewhere between a beautiful theme song and the normal chaos of life around here, our raised planter beds came.
And suddenly we were outside in the sun, foreshadowing the heat of summer to come. Putting together planter beds and planting a vegetable garden.
Well, in all honesty, I pointed and strategized; my husband did the work.
He went to the garden center by himself without me dragging him, and there is a possibility he secretly liked the idea. I noticed we have a bit of a pepper patch. I just hope he remembers to wash his hands after handling the habaneros.
But our real reason for doing all this was to grow strawberries. We did 18 plants, and our youngest goes through a Costco clam shell in one study session. Hopefully, we have strawberries all season.
However, I have the feeling we spent $500+ to save $20 on a large growers carton, and between the squirrels and the birds, we might be lucky to get a handful.
I always thought gardening was supposed to be relaxing.
Apparently, no one told the squirrels.
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We have a similar habit. That make-believe world of WW often seems to have more humanity and wisdom than real life. And yes, it does calm me and remind me that “Married with Children” has its funny moments, but hope always wins out. Good luck with keeping out the squirrels. They can be tricky ones. Ha, ha.
The West Wing seems to be a writer’s show. I just rewatched Posse Comitatus and saw it completely differently.
Thank you for the wishes of good luck against the squirrels—I will need it. There’s a woman in the neighborhood who feeds them. It’s a coup.