I’m back, bitches! Bitches because I recently played bingo with drag queens, and if you’re not a bitch, you’re a whore, so feel the love and complement, readers. Drag queens, among other things like raunchy and obscene, are colorful and fun. That’s what my blog highlights, the colors of my garden and the fun in my life. So to channel the drag queens, I’m coming out. Not in the traditional sense because I’m not gay nor do I wear flamboyant clothing, but I’m a blogger who’s not blogging, stuck in a rut I must come out of. This is the recent state of my body, mind and spirit manifested in my garden……overrun, overgrown and completely neglected. Four years ago, John proposed to me with a two-carat, princess-cut diamond ring, and we planned to get married in Hawaii. Life seemed scripted it was so sweet. In fact, at times, it was scripted. When I didn’t like John’s original marriage proposal, he rewrote the scene. In my defense, he waited forever to propose and then got down on one knee when I was mad at him for not proposing yet…neither one of us was happy with how that played out. A few nights later, I came home to an aisle of red rose petals and glimmering white tea lights leading to a three-piece orchestra in our living room. He knelt down on one knee, told me how much he loved me, and gave me a proposal worthy of The Bachelor.
Then two years ago the script got hijacked by an evil soap opera writer who filled our story line with a child custody battle, financial problems, family estrangements, and wait…the doozy that should truly win me the moniker, Erica Kane…John found out at 40 years-old that he has a brother. Dun-dun.
Jerry Springer lives in Sarasota; don’t think we haven’t gotten that joke a few times too. But life goes on and so shall my blog. By outing myself, I’m forced to post and therefore forced to focus on the good things in my life. My garden is always the place to start because it’s about no one else but me. The hormonal teenager living in the house prefers a dark room and Xbox to sunlight and fresh air. There are no ex-wives lurking behind the crotons. And weeds continue to rule over the brick pavers in the front of the house because that’s not where I spend my time. The backyard is where I spot butterflies and get dirt under my fingernails. The butterflies didn’t stop visiting, I was just missing them. No more. Over the past two weekends, I’ve spent some much needed time in the garden – weeding, transplanting, thinking, forgetting, and healing. As my grandmother says, “Happiness is a choice.” With that in mind, I choose to garden. Here’s my progress so far.Next up on the coming out of my rut list: take down the Christmas tree. It is February.