Outside

As I type this, I'm sitting on my front porch (not on a chair but actually on the concrete) - soaking up the twilight and staring proudly at my vegetables. (Yes, I'm that good of a typist that I can actually stare at plants while I type. Remind me to tell you someday about my Junior year in high school when typing was the one class that kept me from a straight A average. Needless to say, I was sufficiently annoyed to master that skill before the end of the next six weeks.)

I have FINALLY planted vegetables in some containers. For years I've wished I could have a garden but I have a very shady yard. I know I've blogged about it before - so really this urge to get my hands dirty and grow food for my family is nothing new. This time around, I already have a few baby green beans, some fabulous basil, baby cilantro and arugula and a nice little bunch of lettuce. I'm beginning to think it might really happen. Everything is in containers, and I keep them in my front yard because that's the best bet for some sunshine.

As I sit out here, I'm closer to being "Jennifer" than at almost any other time. I know I'm "supposed" to exercise or check things off of my to-do list, but nothing seems to matter as much as being out here and listening. It's corny, and I never thought I'd look at it this way, but I almost feel connected to my plants. It's bizarre.

Of course - if they let me down and croak then I'll probably take it personally and hold a grudge. It's a double-edged sword, I suppose.

Next weekend I'll be camping in a tent all by myself for two nights out in Bastrop (Boy Scout chaplain training...). As I sit here on my porch, listening to the wind in the trees, I'm excited about the idea and looking forward to sneaking away into the woods for a few hours with no one else around so that I can just exist.

I do love shopping and a great happy hour, but my home-grown baby vegetables beat out a top shelf margarita and a pair of expensive shoes any day of the week. Even if said shoes are red - and that's saying something.

Red Shoes

Those of you who follow me on Facebook know that I spent my first day of freedom cleaning/organizing my closet. I even posted "before" pictures, which elicited some pretty hilarious comments. ("For the love of all that is holy, we must SAVE THE SHOES!!")

As you know, the shoes have been rescued from the horrifying mess that was the floor of my closet (but is now perfectly clean) and are neatly set upon shelves. My favorite shelf is my shelf-o-red-shoes. As a matter of fact, I love this particular shelf SO MUCH that I simply had to request that my personal photographer take a snapshot of it so I could blog about it.

These wonderful red shoes sit at about eye level - and when I walk into my newly organized closet, they are sitting there, smiling at me (so to speak). Every single time - I smile right back at 'em. The red flats are a wee bit big and tend to fall off my feet, the bright red heels on the right hurt (sometimes awfully) after a few hours, but the ones in the middle are my Goldilocks shoes. They feel just right. I love all these shoes - even if they hurt my feet or stay behind when I take a step.

Now...if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to go Fandango some Toy Story 3 tickets and then I'll go up and smile at my shoes for a little bit longer.