Home, Again

When I got home, I was able to pull into my driveway, all the way in, and park in the garage. I came in and the power was on and the cable and internet were working. In other words, with the exception of us needing to aid the landscaping, I am back to where I was Monday morning.

I almost cried a little bit.

I’m also hoping that instead of seven deadly plagues, I just had five annoying plagues.  So far today has been really nice, but I’m not going to feel confident that I have broken this string of bad luck until I wake up tomorrow and learn that I did, indeed, make it through today with my ordinary fortune.

But you know I was/am worried that the Barnes Cemetery cursed me.

I’m going to have to go back out there to satisfy my curiosity about the African American cemetery, so maybe I’ll just leave a little peace offering at the gate, just in case.

Anyway, the big news today about the whole Bell’s Bend thing is here.  As surprised as I was when I got that first email which lead to this whole archaeological controversy, I am more surprised that, even with me squawking about it, some MTC guy is still getting on the internet and claiming something exists which doesn’t.

I mean, do they not talk to each other?

I don’t know.  It’s very strange.

Also I have to find the camera because the one Tennessee Coneflower that is in bloom in my yard is just fucking stunning.  Really, one of the most amazing things.  The purple practically glows, it’s so light.

And my rosemary doubled in size this week.

I may not be able to grow flowers, but damn it I can grow me soom herbs and garden stuff.

Oh, Blog, How I Miss You

I’m happy to report that we have internet back at the house now, but I feel like I have been cut off from the whole world.  Because I am a giant overdramatic baby!  There’s so much going on and I have missed out on making snarky comments about almost all of it.

I spent the evening getting lessons on how to be a better feminist from the Ghost of Midwesterners Past.  Apparently many of the problems with the feminist movement could be solved by more whiskey.  Good to know.

Ha, I tease, but it was a good conversation.  I have to mull it over some, but I hope to get back to it.

Anyway, I’m sorry this has been so weird this week.  Ha, not sorry to you jokers, but sorry for myself, because writing here is good for my soul and makes me happy and I feel all discombobulated when I can’t.