Jun. 21st, 2011

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There's an interesting phenom going on of very, very chic-ass shelter blog girls performing authenticity, of a kind, while photographing their perfectly-styled anthropologie houses and projects. I think they're so hot. They're way slicker and chic-er and street-er than the shelter blog aggregation sites, where bloodless vampire aggregation stylists just trawl the nets for other peoples' pictures.


Also Dasha Shishkin, this Bushwick Russian painter chick from Vogue magazine -- yes, if you can make it there, you make it anywhere! -- and this midnight in the garden of Southern gothic honey badger chick from etsy, Jen Ray, who takes the Alabama Chanin white trash boho Blue Bayou thing I dote upon one step farther.

You do know Randall's interesting clip on the honey badger, yes? I wish somebody would do a book on what hip young people learn by watching Nature:

Here is Jen Ray's iconographic take:


I am becoming human again, after nearly 20 years of superhuman hypervigilance. Something scary scares me and makes me tired, as opposed to being something I have to face and get through and ignore while I face another one.

Scary medical appointment of a quotidian nature gotten through with actual fear and also grit yesterday; patent has run out on scary medication meaning generic works good for like $80 less a month. I nearly got tears in my eyes at the pharma and blurted, This means I can buy new clothes. I need to get rid of that mentality, didn't know I had it.

Being bitten perhaps 40 times by big honkin' red ants while sifting soil excavated by industrious young E did not frighten me.

The fiery pain from ankles to hips went away almost the minute I asked it to.

We piled the soil from the flower bed trench E dug on top of five anthills. Within two days, not only had they colonized the pile, they claimed it for their own so insistently they freaked when I started shovelling the soil into my new soil sifter to sift in back into the trench.

West Flower Bed Lined With Chicken Wire
These piles of $oil, amended with purcha$ed compo$t from $oilutions, disappeared back into their gopher-proofed trench just after this pic was shot. The ant-infested pile I'm sifting back into the west trench is in the left foreground, with what I'm sifting out of it to the right.

I am making a compost lasagna in the trench, consisting of lawn cuttings (8 inches), free South Valley ranchito horse manure (1/2 inch), and seriously crappy gravel-filled, hand-sifted, Rancho Atomico soil (2 inches, lightly watered), which hopefully will have turned into compo$t by fall, when we install landscape shrubs (Pee Gee hydrangea tree, sand cherry, and...elderberry?) on the rear west wall.

I love the smell of wire cutters in the morning.

Some long-ignored areas of my life are being amended. Perhaps with manure. I am reminded of the profile in the New Yorker of the man whose vision was restored after years of blindness.

It made him motion sick.

I need to focus very quietly and carefully on this.

Did I mention when E and I travelled to Martine's ranchito in the South Valley to excavate free manure, which E, a city boy, had never seen before, I wore flip flops (did you expect less) and swallowed a bug?

Worthless Wire Cutters Gum the Dawn
Gopher-proofing the flower beds. Plastic bin full of free South Valley horse manure. Chicken wire for gopher-proofing spread out on the ground to the left.

On no account must the Apache plume and other native desert plants with which I intend to under plant it (pink penstemon, prairie clover and globe mallow/sore eye poppy) come in contact with the amended soil. Nutrition and water would kill them.

Wild snapdragon, penstemon palmieri.

Sphaeralcea monroana.

Dalea purpureum.

Apache Plume - the Troll Doll hair bush
Apache plume.

For dinner last night I had mango sorbet and honey-Dijon-flavored almonds from Walgreen's, where I went to get AfterBite.

It's worthless for ant bites.


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January 2012


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