Because dirt is ew.

A few years back I blogged about how deeply ignorant I was of gardening, landscaping, farming in general, and really, just keeping house plants alive. It's not that I don't appreciate and understand how vital farming is to all our lives, or the satisfaction and even zen that many find in home gardening and landscaping (ok, I don't get the latter as much, but whatever). No, it's not that at all.

Often, you put in time and hard work and things go inexplicably wrong. Like when plants don't thrive, or get ravaged by pests. Gee, I'm so glad I bothered. I'm so glad I weeded, and watered, and watched for weeks so I could grow this one tiny, lumpy ass pepper right here. No, I don't wish to learn from this experience. I just wish to stomp around, rip all this bullshit out and go buy it from the store. I have a day job, dammit.

I also hate when people casually throw around fancy in-the-know gardening words like "pruning," which, by the way, always makes me think of someone shriveling into a prune.

What happened to that boy!?

Oh, the Smith boy? Yea, he just up and pruned. Isn't it awful?

A pruning? Gasp! Tragic! He's so small and wrinkled now. 

Yea. He's weirdly sticky, too. Terrible thing.

Growing up, I was surrounded by farmers and gardeners - we lived on a family farm in Italy, with chickens and turkeys - our neighbor, who did most of the farming for us while my dad ran his mechanic business, had an apricot grove and raised pigs...our backyards connected with a small wheat field and a tiny vineyard and we had walnut and fig trees. I even picked fava beans, split them open, and ate them on the spot...yea I know it sounds like a romantic movie set in the sunny Italian countryside and maybe you want to punch me right now. But it's all true. It was like a movie - except the part where everyone gathers for the pig slaughter...but don't worry, my parents didn't let me watch (pssst I could totally hear it though). My grandma, however, happily let me assist her in killing and plucking chickens. Italy was no joke.

Back in the States, my grandparents, who lived across the street from us, kept an impressive vegetable garden, the harvest of which (is that what you call all the stuff that's picked after it's ripe?) was plentiful enough to give tons away to neighbors and friends. They also had flowers and lovely shrubbery all around the house and kept everything neat, weeded, and pretty. On their own. Like magic.

My parents grew tomatoes and other stuff in our suburban backyard for a while too...I don't recall what else because I was too busy being annoyed that they made me water the tomato plants during my super important teen years, when I had places to be and people to see. Two big coffee cans per plant. So.many.plants. The point of all this is that despite being raised this way, none of it stuck or rubbed off on me, or seems to be in my blood. None.

Fast forward a couple decades to home ownership and the years of wanna-be gardening and landscaping - trial and error, motivation followed by utter neglect, confusion and doubt, and I will finally admit that despite some new skills and a few minor successes, I hate it all. So, after all, that's it - that's what it is: I hate getting dirty and grubby, toiling in the yard until I'm completely beat, only to realize I'm barely making a dent. Also, there's nothing worse than surprise worms and other squiggly, squirmy little creatures, so obviously pissed about being disturbed. When I see a shed snake skin, I gag uncontrollably. I can't be alone here.

The only things I like about gardening are my flowered gardening gloves - I own several pairs. Like I do every first pretty day of Spring, I dig a pair out of the garage and spend a few days wandering around acting like I know what I'm doing...gloves on, rake in hand, all sorts of determined. Mostly I push the wheel barrow around and freak out about how much needs to be done, imagining the armies of weeds getting ready to sprout just under the surface...and I replay in my head the way all my green-thumb friends start talking in seasonal smack:

Oh, I am thinning out the Fuckface lillies, do you want some?

Time to cut back the Smugjerk bushes!

Better deadhead these delicate Know-it-Alls!

I must take a cutting of these Pompous Perennials!

Hmm, the tomatoes must have Blythering Dumassery disease this year.

I love you all, green-thumbed friends. But that's how you sound to me on the days when I can't tell a weed from a rose bush...or on the the day I realized I killed the parsley. I KILLED THE PARSLEY. As an Italian, I should be able to grow parsley in a desert - no? Clearly I bring shame to my people.

I also don't think I have any rosebushes, but if ever I did, I probably pulled them. Oops.

A couple of years ago, I was under some sort of possession, and went apeshit buying up flowers and building little rock walls, and mulching, mulching, mulching. I still don't know where it came from, but I was excited, machine-like, and felt all sorts of accomplished. Unfortunately, it seems it was a freak occurrence, as I've yet to see a return of that strange, trowel-wielding, dirt-loving, sod-ripping woman who took over my body for a few weeks. She was something. She even saved all the little tags from the plants, imagining she'd hole punch, catalogue, and use them as reference for proper care. She was mistaken.

Yesterday I spent most of the day outside - there's still a couple of patches of snow left (ugh, for real) so I didn't get too involved, instead opting to take a mental inventory of projects. I also raked a bit and crushed my big toe while dumping the wheelbarrow. Don't even ask me how - I couldn't tell you. I'm just not built for doing such dirty, lifty things. I almost tipped the whole damn thing (which is nearly as tall as me when upright, by the way) down the hill in our woods, so I suppose my toe saved the day.

Despite my disdain for most things dirt, I'm finding lately that I'm willing to play in it a little bit more - mmm...well, it's early...I will  revisit that thought. I realized yesterday that maybe instead of running around from area to area wanting everything done NOW, I should try to focus on one area or project at a time. The downside to this, of course, is that when I'm finally finished, I'll look up and the weeds on the other side of the yard will be big enough to eat me. And the prune boy will be hiding behind them, smiling.

Closing in on 40

I've come across a number of online essays about turning 40 recently: realizations and confirmations, pauses and platitudes, anecdotes and affirmations. I suppose I've put in the time to read some of these because I'm closing in on this number myself (not till late July, suckas!), and it's always nice to find someone else reflecting in a similar way. They've inspired me to compile my own list of absolute truths observations and experienced(ish) suggestions to share as we enter the middle decade of life. I have no idea how many items I'll end up listing here, but it may not be 40 on the nose, or any sort of pre-set number, because one of the things I've learned as I approach my 40s is that sometimes you don't know where you're going to end up until you actually arrive:

1.  Make up rules for yourself and stick to them - until you don't want to anymore. Like going to bed by 10pm every night. Except Tuesdays and some Fridays, and also stay up as late as you can handle...which in truth is not very late anymore. So pretty much just go to bed when you want, it will all work out.
   
2. Speaking of sleep, it will now come in one of two ways: Great or Awful. Nothing in between.
3. By now, a pedicure is no longer a luxury...and it can be seriously restorative, speedy therapy on the cheap. Get them as often as you can afford. Pretty feet will always make you feel better, I promise. Not to get all philosophical, but why not pamper your dogs? They've been walking, running, and holding you up your whole damn life. Give them some love.
4. While you don't need a TV series to remind you how lucky you are not to have lived through the 50's and 60's, you should watch Mad Men. Shit was awful for women in a much more transparent and cringe-inducing way it than it is now. Also Jon Hamm.
5.  You don't focus on flaws anymore - instead, with a little age and wisdom of your own, you can learn to step back and see how the physical 'flaws' of a man or woman work together with everything -  and you start to find that everyone has an inherent beauty, and the flaws actually accentuate it. And yes, most men are actually getting hotter as they age...but I'm convinced it's because they don't fight it. Although a few maybe should. Don't be too jealous though, ladies, because it does stop. There's distinguished, and then suddenly decrepit. Like The Crypt Keeper. But back to the beauty and lovely sentiments...
6. You realize slowly that your own flaws work that way too. You stop hating your body or your this or your that, and loving yourself as a whole. So just take care of yourself and your inherent beauty will just happen...and it spills over, and you find more confidence than you ever imagined you would have. Confidence is visible and beautiful - and it's not to be confused with arrogance.
7. In a related way, you start to appreciate your body, too. We are in decline, wether it's obvious yet or not, so love and appreciate yours for where it is right now. If you want to change it, go ahead, but please do it lovingly and with respect.
8. Big Girl Pants - otherwise known as BGPs: We should all have by now several well-fitting pairs, clean and ready to go at a moment's notice when you need to grow the eff up. Have a couple spares to lend out as well. Wear often. Feel free to mix in Sassy Pants as needed. Remember that people will treat you in the way you let them.
   
9. Eat more eggs. They are really good for you.
10. If you have young children, you know that their hair smells better than anything on earth.
11. Say things that need to be said. Talk about things that people don't want to talk about. Use your BGPs as necessary. You don't have patience for bullshit.
12. Avoid most drama though. By 40, you should be able to figure out 11 & 12.
13. Reserve some drama for your spouse. Then it's not drama anymore - it's called passion. It will serve your relationship well.
14. Back to patience - yours is precious and available only in small doses for those who deserve it.
15. Say no to stuff regularly.
16. Be on time most of the time. People who are habitually late are...exhausting.
17. Don't be habitually early either. Those people are equally exhausting.
18. You can't carry every torch. Just pick a couple. One at a time is ideal.
19. Smiling is wonderful, but Resting Bitch Face prevents wrinkles!
20. It's ok not to want to play with your kid(s). You're not here for their entertainment.
21. I kind of want reading glasses. When will my eyesight go? I think I'd be hot with reading
    glasses. I really want to shop for reading glasses. I got excited the other day because I thought I almost squinted at something close up...but it didn't last. Come on, eyeballs - start aging!
22. If you've made it this far without a Brazilian, there's no need to go there. If your guy can't deal with your womanhood, call his manhood into question. Only agree to it if there is a specific compromise: you both get one. And you'd both be dumb. Weirdly bald and dumb.
23. You can still get a random zit at age 39. And you'll be intensely and irrationally angry about it.
24. Don't buy the cheapest dish detergent. You'll just use a hell of a lot more.
25. Actually, don't buy the cheapest of everything if you don't have to. For most of us, by 40, we've learned how money works. Don't be afraid of it. Figure out what that means for you, and what 'worth' means to you, and make changes accordingly.
26. Good shoes are always worth it, by the way.
27. Lesbians are totally on to something. Next life.
28. If you've wanted a tattoo, what the hell are you still waiting for? Keep it below the neck. I mean, you are 40 and all.
29. Make peace with your family - or at least try, and try again, and keep trying. If you have a close family, relish in how fortunate you really are, and nurture your relationships with them. We are seeing the effects of not doing so as our friends and peers experience loss in their lives.
30. Learn the 4-7-8 breath and try to remember it every night before you go to sleep.
    
31. If you've made it to 40 without becoming a coffee addict, or at least appreciating everything about coffee, you are pretty fucking weird and I'm not sure I completely trust you. You've got to be on something. What is it? Oh, right, lameness.
    
32. Pasta should be cooked al dente in moderately salted water. Salty like the ocean. Also, don't buy cheap pasta. Yes, there's a difference. I'll know if you serve me cheap pasta. And I'll judge you.
33. It's ok to not continue some family traditions. It's ok to create new ones. Just be upfront about all of it, and pick your battles.
34. Learn what terrifies the people around you. Keep that info tucked away for when you might really need something and you're not getting your way.
35. Just kidding, that's awful.
36. Still worth noting though. It's ok to think about it.
37. Buy good bras. Your boobs deserve a stage.They are superstars, after all.
38. Teens and people in their early 20s are complete idiots, aren't they? They'll learn. Hopefully. By 40.
39. Some regrets will happen, even if you're one of those "no regrets" people (I call bullshit on those people anyway). What's apparent now though is that while those regrets might still be there, even if they can still tug at you a bit, they don't really matter. They're just good information for navigating the next decade.