I love owning a house and the idea of making it a home, but when it comes down to it, i’m just not a fan of all the housework. Domestic bliss, schmosmestic smiss, am I right, ladies???
Last night I spent two hours in the making-eating-cleaning of a nice dinner. And while I’ve tried to tend to my garden as best i know how, I’ve watched over the last few weeks as it’s become a candidate for Better Homes & Gardens’ “don’t ever effing let this happen to you” section.
Brandon scolded me a tad over my harumph-ing, saying i need to be more tolerant of menial tasks. Well.
Tonight a little before dark I put my ho and myself to work.
(My Ho, Myself: Many’s the professional athlete’s memoirs with such a title.)
And guess what…I enjoyed myself. Sportin my rubber-grippy garden gloves, picking out the weeds and grass with care, I actually started to feel like I might just like this gardening thing.
Made me think of The Secret Garden:
where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow.
The wise old gardener Ben Weatherstaff says that to Mary Lennox while they workworkwork on the old SG. (ps—How do you not become a master green-thumb with a name like Weatherstaff…)
And it’s about cultivating good habits while you’re cultivating the ground.
Fitting to think about today as I started reading The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp.
I just started it at lunch, but I can tell it could be the jumper cables my mind’s been hankering for. She’s a proponent of habit and structure as necessary catalysts to creative work. Hm…more of those “menial” tasks I grumble about. Must be careful in my quest to be spontaneous, ever-learning, ever-changing to not rule out the value of habit and structure.
I can cook and garden and not end up Stepford.
Thought it’s no surprise witht the volume of Mad Men i’ve been ingesting this week (oh yeah, so i started watching it since my last post. or, you might say, devouring.) I’m a little wary of casseroles. And gender roles.