Things Are Different

Dear Brain,

Well, when will you learn that things never go quite the way you imagine them. Things are variously, worse, better, or just completely different than the way you spent so much time anticipating they were going to be. Rarely are they ever even close. So Brain, why dont you give up trying to anticipate, and just concentrate on whatever is going on right now?

I understand, Brain, that without you trying to anticipate how much we would enjoy living in our own honest- to-God-house, we might never have done all the crappy work we needed to do to buy one, so I guess you have that point Brain. Some anticipation is necessary. I guess maybe its OK to plan for the outcomes you'd like, and anticipate the pleasure they will give you. Just don't live in that future Brain. Make sure we're stopping and smelling the rosemary along the way, right?

I mean, take digging the garden for example. I never pictured the misery involved. The only parts of home gardening I imagined were the "walking-out-the-door-and-picking-bushels-of-lovely-organic-produce" parts (which produce I would repair to the kitchen with and cook up all sorts of delicious, healthy food a la Martha Stewart). I'm glad I decided on a very small plot to start out because, even though the past couple days of rain have softened up the ground to damp sponge consistency, it was still 2 hours of hard work to dig all the ex-lawn out of my tiny little 4'x4' area. Lacking a wheelbarrow, (maybe a little of the imaginatory anticipation should have been given over to the tools needed for vegetable gardening, ehy Brain?) I used a big, purple, ten gallon, plastic tote to drag the unwanted grass and dirt chunks across the yard. I found a suitable spot for them next to the compost pile. I'm worried they may spring back to life, hydra-like, and send out double or triple the number of new grass shoots. I've heard it is very tough to kill a lawn (though you wouldn't know that from the way people are constantly obsessing over them, fertilizing them, and watering them-in flagrant disregard of the drought restrictions!). Everyone else on the block will have delicate petal princess grass that dies if you call it names, and I will get the Mexican Burro of lawns that just refuses to quit no mater how much you make it suffer. (By the way, B. has laid down the law. I am NOT allowed to have a burro in the backyard).

Well lacking a well rounded imagination I also didn't forsee just how proud I'd be after sweating furiously over my tiny little four foot by four foot square. Imagine how great I 'll feel when an actual plant pops up? No, on second thought Brain, lets try not to live in the future so much. Lets concentrate on enjoying the patch of mud and mulch we just dug. That and the cookies I'm about to attempt to bake. I'm such a domestic goddess these days!