Hello my friends!
Thank you for the kind words.
Yeah it's all been nutty. Very busy between work and having work done on the house, some of which I'm doing myself. . . personally I'm mostly sticking to the garden owing to my ability, needing roofers etc to handle the big stuff.
Was doing gardening and the garden divas, those little faeries that everyone was painting so frequently got pissed (in all senses of the word) that I was taking down some trees and pulling dead brush and so on. They were probably really ticked because I hadn't watered them much, but neglect was only part of what engaged their formidable earthly wrath.
My plan is to convert my backyard which had been growing wild for a long time, into a big ol' vegetable garden, which I would have to cage in because of the local varmints (raccoons, squirrels, possums, miscellaneous field rodents and a passing family of skunks that have moved on hopefully).
But since I hadn't consulted with the divas about gutting the wild scruffy garden and future plans, as I tore into the dying brush I heard tiny voices chiming threats at me, "We are not amused, you bloody crap garden dilettante! And you shall get your come-uppance forthwith!!! Take that!!!"
Whereupon they began jabbing at me with sticks and branches, and kicked me in the shins and slammed my hand between a brick wall and the handle of a pick ax. (ouch!)
But after nursing my guitar fretting hand, I rallied and returned to the garden the following day. I muttered, "Try to take my guitar playing away from me will ya?!?!?! I'll show you!!!!"
And I proceeded to tear out a dying bush wrapped in a gnarled grape vine that had been growing on an old wood shed. But it still had some mojo in it, and as I yanked and pulled at the bush, a branch poked me in the eye and deeply scratched my cornea!" And so I withdrew to wash it out with eye solution. Shortly then in my sleeping chamber with eyes closed, the irritation was so abysmal, I had to drive myself to the emergency room with only one working eye which watered incessantly.
After the doctor and nurse did several unnatural things to my eye, the doctor proclaimed my eye was deeply scratched. He covered it with a patch and said to come back the following day. So I drove home with one eye muttering, "Take away my art, will ya! Cursed divas are fighting rough! We'll see about that! @$)*&"
When I returned to the doctor, he looked at my eye and was shocked at how miraculously it had healed. And by the fourth day, the blurriness had mostly gone and I could see well enough to fork the garden (pitchfork that is).
So the following weekend I hired in a bull-like tough young Mexican lad. I donned my sunscreen and we marched into the garden armed to the teeth with machete and pitchfork and chain saw.
He has little English and I have only limited Spanish and we would communicate in a guttural hybrid lingo using lots of gestures and cash. When I was showing him what we needed to do I pointed to the bush that had scratched my eye and he made a gesture by chopping his hand into his palm and said coldly, "We kill it!"
I said, "Good man! Stout fellow!"
Whereupon the rest of the day we proceeded to lay low two trees, much shrubbery, and half the old wood shed. The day was OURS!!!!! VICTORY!!!!
Having cleared the field of valor of severed limbs and trunks of felled trees to a rented 20 foot trash bin, I was back at the wood shed chucking severed 2x4s into a pile for later use.
Heady from expanding my kingdom, while I relaxed, the divas took their revenge.
When I threw the very last timber, through my leather garden glove a long wood shard was driven in a blink. I gingerly pulled off my right glove, which was snagging on the splintery barb, and looked at my hand. Projecting from my little finger, between my palm and first knuckle, a quarter inch on either side was the little shaft of a wooden arrow with which some wretched diva attacked me.
In the Urgent Care room, the nurse took one look at it and made a face like she was going to puke, upgraded me on the spot and and waved me over to the Emergency Room instead.
Long story about the extraction of splintery old wood, but suffice to say, the doc and attendants and I had a great time making jokes and generally having a great time. The X-Ray tech was particularly amused. (I know what you're thinking but there were no drugs used except a tetanus shot and some local anesthetic and later a prescription for a bunch of antibiotics). Anyway it came out clean, no bone involvement or blood, and it was the little finger on my right hand, which very few guitarists actually use. So my guitar playing was simply on hold for a few days.
The doc told me to come back to Wound Care which I didn't really need, owing to the speed with which my hand was healing, and to Plastic Surgery, which I refused. I accepted the band-aid from Wound Care and returned to my garden.
As an asides, before I went to the E.R., I paid my henchman, and asked him to clean up and I would see him soon for more garden work. Talking on the phone, I heard him say in broken English that after I left, he too got poked in the eye by a rogue branch! "THEY GOT JOEL!!!!" (pronounced Ho-El) I lamented. "Oh, accursed (pronounced A-Curse-Ed) war!!! Oh, what bitter irony!!! All this fighting for what? For some portfolio of canned garden seeds cat #69300 of pre-genetically engineered miscellaneous vegetables??? Oh the humanity."
It was at that point that I called in a Tree Hugger to speak on my behalf to the divas. They went into the yard and while oddly embracing a tree, explained to the divas in the high language of the noble court, that there would be many many plants, vegetable types of plants cultivated and enjoyed, and that the garden was merely being renovated. . .
And so it came to pass that a cease fire was drafted and signed by all parties, bloodlessly, though it has been rumored that there may have been some abstentions, diva Ronin who remain as outlaws in hiding within the thickets in the yard.
So now that the house is nearly renovated, the situation with the garden looms nearer and nearer.
Will the peace hold? Who can say. But that is a question for another day.
So how are you?