In Which I Blew All My Grocery Money on Flowers

Red sunflowers from Beth

Three packets of sunflowers I forgot from last year.

White coneflowers

Purple coneflowers

Evening primrose

Blue false indigo







Black-eyed Susans




Morning glories (I think I’ve probably got enough seeds on the ground from last season, but I want to be sure).


Joe-pye Weed

Bush beans




Wishbone flower


Many of these are meant to go in the muddy part of the yard, to try to save it from itself. The hostas will go along the side of the shed. Marigolds will go in with the irises and roses. I know it’s another month and a half until I can plant anything, but, whew doggie, I had to do something to pull myself up out of this funk. I’m also looking forward to imagining next year, when the perennials will be settled and I can think about annuals.

The Butcher tells me there’s a possum picking through our compost pile. Well, more power to you, possum. There’s probably plenty of good, half-rotted stuff in there.

More of our neighbors’ wall has fallen into the creek. I need the Butcher to get with them before the spring storms come.

Still, I’m excited about flowers and I plan to take the packets out and look at them and daydream about where I will put them all every day until April 15, at which point, I will probably be inseparable from my yard. I might be a crappy gardener, but I love it. And this year, we will have more flowers than last year, and next year more flowers than that.  And that makes me happy.


Bwah ha ha, Mark Maddox

Seriously, people, I am swear, I’m about five seconds from going into the psychic political blogger business. There isn’t such a business yet, as far as I know… Oh, no, wait! I am predicting with my psychic powers that psychic political blogging will be a real thing and that I will be the perfect pick for it.

Remember just last week when I blogged about this hare-brained scheme Maddox and Overby had to reward their cronies with university presidencies?

And remember how some people were all like “Oh, no, I’m sure this is just about widening the pool to get the best potential candidates”?

Well, well, well, let us turn to the story in Inside HigherEd.

(People, I must warn you right now, before I even block this quote that, if you have drinks, you need to set them down and finish swallowing before reading what follows.)

Maddox said he was introducing the bill on behalf of “a friend,” but he would not name the individual. He did, however, note that the individual who brought him the bill was not currently occupying any of the specific positions noted in the bill, was not from the governor’s office, and had no direct interest in any of the chancellorships or presidencies in the state.

“For a friend??!!!” FOR A FRIEND??!!! BWAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. Like you buy condoms for a “friend” when you’re 16 or Preparation H for a “friend” now?! For a friend?! Oh Jesus. Seriously, “a friend.”  Well, in Tennessee politics as in life, “a friend” means two things: the person you’re fucking or yourself and I think we all know Maddox isn’t fucking around. Is Maddox’s “friend” hoping for a career path that leads him to a cabinet level staff position and then, maybe, oh, I don’t know, to chancellor of UT Martin?

A friend. Ha.

Over at Post Politics, the commenters are speculating that maybe this is supposed to open up the door for John Morgan. I would hope not. Not because Morgan wouldn’t be a decent choice, but because I can’t believe the people who surround him are such idiots that they’d think this legislation is necessary. First, there’s no advanced degree requirement from the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools. They say that, in order to be accredited by them, “The institution has qualified administrative and academic officers with the experience, competence, and capacity to lead the institution.” And the State code seems to give very wide latitude to the governing boards to hire who they want.

Morgan’s public service may indeed prove he has the experience, competence, and capacity to lead an institution, but there’s no point in making a law that demands a university treat ten years of government service to be the equivalent of a PhD. And I would hope that any potential college president (or his supporters) would have taken the five minutes I took to easily discover that, instead of wasting taxpayers’ time and money on this bill.

I mean, gentlemen, please. If you want to prove you’re qualified to run a major research institution, maybe show you can, oh, you know, do a little research.

Ooo, and there’s one more funny: “both of the bill’s sponsors said they had yet to hear any criticism about it.” Really, Maddox? Because my psychic powers tell me that you read my post last week and were complaining about it and I was, indeed, critical of this hilarious piece of nepotism. But, hey, if you want to pretend like you didn’t read my generous invitation for you and Overby to come over and befriend the Butcher in order to maybe set him up with a job he’s not really qualified for, that’s cool.

Your loss.


The Varsity Grille broke me, people. I spent all afternoon wishing I could shit and since then being like “enough already.” And the Butcher ate my leftover Chinese and the last of my chocolate covered pretzels.

Which, normally, I wouldn’t have minded or thought twice about, except that I thought all day, “when I get home, I will just eat my leftovers and have some chocolate covered pretzels and all will be right in the world.”

And when I got here?

They were all gone.

Well, it was probably for the best, as I couldn’t have enjoyed them for very long anyway.