Odds. No Ends.

For the past seven or more days, I was under the impression that I had suffered a cello injury. Yes, that's right: I had bowing pain in my shoulder. It's the same pain as that which I suffered years ago when I slipped off the rock climbing wall and tried to catch myself by one arm (yes: my bowing arm), thereby wrenching any shred of ligament in my already midlife shoulder. THAT shoulder injury took months to heal. And it occasionally still rears its ugly head. Like last week.

Tonight I was out playing Throw the Object for the Bloodhound. And I got it sorted out: this is not some random cello injury. (No wonder that Spouse o' Mine looked askance last night when I told him I thought it was cello-related...) This is a pitching injury! I should be icing my shoulder like the best of them: Nolan Ryan, Dizzy Dean, Rollie Fingers, Lefty Grove...

Last week I witnessed ants, building high dikes around their ant hole/ant hills. And today's Bible verse: In Proverbs 6:6-8 (KJV, because that's the way I like it), King Solomon the Wise said,

"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest."

I think I like KJV because it uses fun words like sluggard.

And I have been a bit of a sluggard. There seems to be an inordinate amount of mud and cat fur in This Old House. In my defense, the weather has been such that That Spouse o' Mine and I have been spending most of our time outdoors whenever possible. With bikes. With mud. And animals.

And I have been antsy about getting some sort of garden started so that I will indeed have a harvest to gather in the later months. That Spouse o' Mine cautioned me this morning not to set my already-huge tomato plants out today...a possible frost warning is out.

That doesn't bode well for the four banana trees I put out this weekend. But I have to admit, having that extra 1/3 of our mudroom back is a delight of sorts. I have a window to look through once again, as opposed to a host of banana leaves.

We have a chicken in the oven, along with rice and other nice things, and now I am going to grab my gardening basket and head out to my garden to pick "a mess o' greens" for dinner.

Collard greens, ya know.