Of Panties and Pansies

"$4.99? That's too much for panties." The cashier released my newly acquired undies from their plastic hanger bondage with a scoche of distain. The other three pairs (why is it a pair when it's only one piece? Whatevah.) were only $1.99, the appropriate price I suppose. But what else was I supposed to do? I was facing a bleak week at work, and there was really nothing for it but to shop my blues away. Which of course didn't happen. Which would also explain my purchase of not one, not two, but three six-packs of pansies, not to mention $20 worth of makeup, less than an hour later, though dead-heading and fertilizing, the great wheel of gardening, is far from my to-do list these days. But the pansies and hostas are now in the flower bed and I'm sure will bring me peace. At some point. Soon. Surely.*

So of course shopping wasn't a solution to yesterday either, a particularly icky day, but I couldn't help trying to seek solace in consumerism after leaving the office. Witness the paper bag full of fine New Zealand wool purchased last night that now languishes in my craft room that probably won't be knitted up for quite some time. Recall the stomach ache that lasted what felt like all night last night from the rich Thai food I bagged after the wool gathering incident. And the hot chocolate chip cookies I baked up also proved to be ineffective against professional angst.

But now I sit, 18 year old deaf cat on lap who threatens to nuzzle the laptop off aforementioned lap, typing, the bed and blankets calling, and life feels…numb. I think, I believe, I hope, this feeling will fall away and somehow I will feel "lively" again. Sooner rather than later, I hope.

Excuse me while I bake up a few more Trader Joe's chocolate chip cookies again. I'm sure that will help.

*We watched "Airplane!" this past weekend, so stop calling me Shirley.

*****

Colors:

Spring is almost here. First, out here, it's all about yellow: acacia trees and mustard and daffodils. But now it's the white-petaled chamomile daisies in the dog-walking field and apple and peach trees enrobed in pink and white and pink again, and flowering quince punctuating the freeway that is flagging the arrival of spring. Oh, and the recently purchased rust-colored and purple pansies help too, as well as the lavender hyacinths popping up near the rose bush. This time last year and the year before, their blooms were consumed by snails, but not this year--perhaps the frost was a factor this year.

And green, the bright juicy green of the grass everywhere. Yum.

Another color I'd forgotten about? The black, as in Women in Black, who stand every Friday at the main intersection of the small town where I work , protesting the war. I drove by last week and flashed the peace sign, something I don't think I've done in earnest since 1970. As a pre-teen clad in homemade hot pants and cheap go-go boots, that couldn't have added much to the war-ending effort, but hey, not much else presented itself.