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mallorys_cameraMy cold is gone (which I attribute to the miraculous healing powers of Zicam) so I went for a long stroll through the Vanderbilt estate yesterday and met my 10,000-step goal for the first time in practically forever.
I think the Vanderbilt mansion itself is hideous: a 19th century MacMansion that imposes itself upon the landscape without making the slightest attempt to harmonize. Sort of as though the Vanderbilts had decided to plop Grand Central Station in the middle of the picturesque and scenic Hudson valley.
But the gardens, the arboretum and the rest of the grounds are very wonderful indeed and will become increasingly more wonderful as spring progresses.
Some time this week, I will go down to the garden and begin reclaiming it from winter.
I saw thyme at the garden store this weekend:
One of my favorite all-time books is Edward Eager’s The Time Garden, which is all about a band of bored children who stumble across a magic creature—the old E. Nesbit formula—and spend their summer having fabulous magical adventures, natch.
There must be 20 types of thyme in The Time Garden, but there were only four in the garden store. Still. Maybe if I plant them, the Natterjack will come and take me on magical adventures.
###
In other news, I went to see Neighbor Ed. My bedroom window looks straight across to his driveway, so I get the full Rear Window view. I’d noticed he hadn’t moved his car in several days—most unusual for Neighbor Ed who is usually out having adventures—so I wondered if he was dead.
Not dead, nope.
Pulled a hamstring. He’d heard it go Pop! whilst in the monster embrace of one of those hideous gym machines and now is hobbled for who knows how long.
Neighbor Ed and I talked politics and taxes.
We both agree that the brouhaha around Biden touching women on their shoulders is completely ridiculous: Millennials have such prudish ideas about “personal space” that they probably don’t realize that many of the touchy-feely aspects of Boomer culture are a reaction to the fact that our parent demographic was so cold and repressed that they never touched anyone.
The first time I broached my native inhibitions and actually touched someone on the shoulder while I was talking to him, I remember feeling immensely liberated!
Of course, in the current cultural climate, I’ve gone back to keeping everyone at arm’s length.
This morning, I see that the woman who released the story about how Biden kissed her on the back of her head is amending that story to say, But I would still vote for him.
Too late, you silly bitch! I want to telepathically project into her mind. You’ve ruined his chances. I hope you enjoy years 4 to 8 of the tRump Presidency!
###
Ed also told me something that made me really angry. To wit, TaxBwana is still in operation in Staatsburg but asshole Charlie didn’t want to work with me there.
Why asshole Charlie would have any kind of control over whether or not I get to work at Staatsburg is ridiculous and symptomatic of everything that’s wrong with the TaxBwana organizational hierarchy.
Charlie is X-military and apparently disliked the way I challenged him on several things. He seemed to feel as though we were operating under some sort of chain of command.
So ridiculous.
TaxBwana is run by people—male and female—who look like they’re attending a Dwight D. Eisenhower impersonator convention. Except for Ahmad—a tRump supporter, by the way!—there is not one person of color working as a tax preparer.
Anyway, this discovery made me furious.
I’m an assertive woman, which means I’m a baaaaad person.
What century are we living in again? I forget.
I think the Vanderbilt mansion itself is hideous: a 19th century MacMansion that imposes itself upon the landscape without making the slightest attempt to harmonize. Sort of as though the Vanderbilts had decided to plop Grand Central Station in the middle of the picturesque and scenic Hudson valley.
But the gardens, the arboretum and the rest of the grounds are very wonderful indeed and will become increasingly more wonderful as spring progresses.
Some time this week, I will go down to the garden and begin reclaiming it from winter.
I saw thyme at the garden store this weekend:
One of my favorite all-time books is Edward Eager’s The Time Garden, which is all about a band of bored children who stumble across a magic creature—the old E. Nesbit formula—and spend their summer having fabulous magical adventures, natch.
There must be 20 types of thyme in The Time Garden, but there were only four in the garden store. Still. Maybe if I plant them, the Natterjack will come and take me on magical adventures.
###
In other news, I went to see Neighbor Ed. My bedroom window looks straight across to his driveway, so I get the full Rear Window view. I’d noticed he hadn’t moved his car in several days—most unusual for Neighbor Ed who is usually out having adventures—so I wondered if he was dead.
Not dead, nope.
Pulled a hamstring. He’d heard it go Pop! whilst in the monster embrace of one of those hideous gym machines and now is hobbled for who knows how long.
Neighbor Ed and I talked politics and taxes.
We both agree that the brouhaha around Biden touching women on their shoulders is completely ridiculous: Millennials have such prudish ideas about “personal space” that they probably don’t realize that many of the touchy-feely aspects of Boomer culture are a reaction to the fact that our parent demographic was so cold and repressed that they never touched anyone.
The first time I broached my native inhibitions and actually touched someone on the shoulder while I was talking to him, I remember feeling immensely liberated!
Of course, in the current cultural climate, I’ve gone back to keeping everyone at arm’s length.
This morning, I see that the woman who released the story about how Biden kissed her on the back of her head is amending that story to say, But I would still vote for him.
Too late, you silly bitch! I want to telepathically project into her mind. You’ve ruined his chances. I hope you enjoy years 4 to 8 of the tRump Presidency!
###
Ed also told me something that made me really angry. To wit, TaxBwana is still in operation in Staatsburg but asshole Charlie didn’t want to work with me there.
Why asshole Charlie would have any kind of control over whether or not I get to work at Staatsburg is ridiculous and symptomatic of everything that’s wrong with the TaxBwana organizational hierarchy.
Charlie is X-military and apparently disliked the way I challenged him on several things. He seemed to feel as though we were operating under some sort of chain of command.
So ridiculous.
TaxBwana is run by people—male and female—who look like they’re attending a Dwight D. Eisenhower impersonator convention. Except for Ahmad—a tRump supporter, by the way!—there is not one person of color working as a tax preparer.
Anyway, this discovery made me furious.
I’m an assertive woman, which means I’m a baaaaad person.
What century are we living in again? I forget.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-06 07:05 am (UTC)I don't like the sound of asshole Charlie. F*ck him.
Thyme is wonderful, but it dies in despair anywhere near me. Even mint isn't entirely risk-free in my presence. Lavender and sage seem to like me though.
no subject
Date: 2019-04-06 06:31 pm (UTC)