Death by sunflower...and corn

So much for my bold resolution to blog every three days. That's the problem with publishing your resolutions for the blogosphere to read: if you fail to make good on your lofty claims, people know. I was certain that once the corporate shackles had been struck, I was going to WRITE, dammit! WRITE EVERY DAY! I would work on my blog, my book, my short story collection.

Wanna hear my excuses?

1) August is always a busy time of year for me. You know, a peach lavender jam/pepper jelly/chili sauce/salsa kind of month. But thanks to my enterprising husband, it's also become a harvest-40-sunflowers-before-7:30 a.m./pick-185-cobs-of-corn-before-3 p.m. kind of month. It's become a fish-the-pink-umbrella-out-of-the-cornfield and check-the-money-jars and make-sure-you've-set-out-enough-corn kind of month. I ache all over. My fingers are raw and stained. So typing sucks. And by dinnertime, my brain is broken. So there.

2)Somehow, I'm busier being home all the time than I ever was at work. All that laundry and cleaning I used to ignore leap out at me now. Domestic guilt figures largely in this equation, too. Before, it was, "I just worked a full day. I'll deal with that pile of nasty underwear and socks tomorrow." Now it's, "Crap. I'm at home all day. By default, this nasty underwear pile is my responsibility." Plus the kids, hilarious and darling and joyful as they are, run me ragged. Dylan has learned to crawl out of his crib and Jade has decided afternoon naps are just so passe. They both want me to play and cuddle, which is nice, but such requests tend to be made when I am making supper, hanging laundry or am elbow deep in corn husks. And I only have the kidlets home with me Wed-Fri!!! I am an old, tired mama bear.

3) I bought a new Mac Powerbook in a fit of rage a few weeks ago. D's laptop kept flashing me rudely with the blue screen of death in the middle of important YouTube videos, so I finally cracked. It's not like me to make expensive online purchases, but hey, it was either that or dump D's laptop in the lake. But I am a technical dullard, so even though I was impressed with the mac's incredibly intuitive user instructions, it took me a little while to get it up and running. I still can't figure out how to connect to the wireless internet because D conveniently "forgets" to help me look for the password; I think it's his way of punishing me for "forgetting" to tell him about the purchase until the day it arrived. When I led him by the hand to the dining room table and silently pointed to my glowing new grey pet, he was quiet for a moment. Then: "You're gonna have to sell a lot of sunflowers, Kimmy."

4) Finally, I woke up this morning to NO INTERNET at home. Seriously? It's Monday, the kids' daycare day - my BLOGGING day, for pete's sakes. So I'm in the coffee shop, banging away on a sticky keyboard and downing my fourth cup of their potent java. I'm listening to the drone of the various breakfast clubs (aka senior citizen gossip sessions) around me, the guy who keeps whistling at his toddler like she's a chihuahua, and the crash of dishes through the kitchen door, which is beside my left knee.

Don't worry, I'll fill you in on the whole garden market experiment. Just as soon as I get groceries, make 16 jars of jalapeno pepper jelly and put out today's supply of sunflowers and corn.