Botanical Magic

 It was a simple request: talk to the girls.

The girls being the plants currently approaching the flowering stage down in the basement grow tent. It seems one of them appeared to be developing pollen sacs, a masculine trait that, if left to continue, could pollinate the rest of the plants, and we don’t want that.

Nope. This tent is a girls club (no offense, guys, but only the females grow the prettiest flowers). So a pep talk was in order. Some spiritual woo woo coaching to get them all in line, and all working together for their highest good.

So we opened up the tent, and I approached them, gently caressed each stalk, as I reminded them all of their purpose: to maximize their feminine powers to grow the biggest, most beautiful purple buds. Eradicate the masculine from the tent once and for all, as it had no purpose here.

They listened. The offending pollen sacs disappeared. The buds are HUGE, glittering with trichromes. No plants were harmed in the process.

Was it magic? Were the pollen sacs ever really there in the first place? Curious to learn more?

Welcome to Down the Rabbit Hole. I never know where it’s going to end up, but most days are infinitely fascinating, and full of the sparkly stuff that make living such a joy. Follow me if you can, I’ll leave a red thread for you to find your own way out.

Funny thing, the actual rabbit holes in my backyard are not very deep. Sure, they contain more baby bunnies than I think should fit in there, but bunnies are squishy.

The deepest rabbit hole, one I visit frequently these days, is the world of AI in writing and creating. ChatGPT of course (go ahead, say it with a French accent, it comes out as Cat, I farted!), Bard, Dex, Claude (sounds like a romance novel now), Midjourney, which somehow involved arming squirrels for battle, and much more! 

But for now, it’s still summer gardening season! Oh the places we go when there’s gardening on the brain. Sunflowers! Oregano and Basil … Bella donna and cannabis.

Trichromes and terps.

Come join me down the rabbit hole! Magic and shenanigans will ensue; at the very least, there will be a story to tell.

 (gratuitous puppy pic)

I'm still spending a lot of time away from home and pups and children (who are technically grown up but they're still my children, just taller and they drive). Even as the seasons are changing, Spring is here.

Been skimming old journals for nuggets of brilliance amongst the ramblings. Found a few that made me chuckle (How many times do I have to search Vegan to get you to understand I don't eat meat and do not need any recipes for "game"?!!!)

An old poem (don't judge, just enjoy!)

Standing out on the stoop

Waiting for Milo to poop

the grass is wet

don't hesitate

Just get out there and poop de doop!

Words of wisdom: 

Don't let the weights get dusty.

Done is better than perfect.

The bad always screams louder. Kindness is quiet.

Train the doggies.

And over and over again: Again, I'm the weirdo.

Sometimes said in a voice of triumph, more often explaining why I was left out of something, an event, a discussion, a judgement from someone. It's been a life long habit, explaining away other people's reactions as something wrong with me. Or sometime embracing it, as a long term goal: I AM THE WEIRDO.

I'm going with it. The older I get, the less offensive it is to onlookers and innocent bystanders anyway. More like waving a flag for my people.

So the morning pages, ramblings of a newly single mom of teenagers, has some value still. And of course, my current journals, which stay unread for now, should hold some nuggets I can come back to in a time far into the future. Or maybe in just a couple of years.

Either way, done is better than perfect.

Getting my shit together and keeping the sparkle alive.

 The Thing about ADHD (and I know I have not mentioned that here before, but it's always been here for those of you who know, you know, and those of you who don't, well ...)

Morning brain dump is necessary. Must get out a bunch of words that may or may not make sense. And lately I've been actually making progress towards putting words in places where they can be found again, and re-worked, and actually used in something. Whether that something gets published, or paid for, or just submitted as an assignment for a class (always taking a class, ALWAYS learning something new), or added to an idea file to be used later. There's still lots of notebooks, pretty ones, and yellow lined legal pads. I try to keep that to three in my laptop bag, and they have 3 separate ... and now the word escapes me. Three separate subjects? No ... one for class, one for web site, one for HABOD stuff (Hartwick Alumni Board of Directors, yes I'm giving back to my school in the one way I can do best, Communications). 

Did I hear laughing? Communications being what I do best? OK, so maybe this jumble brain doesn't always make things clear to the normie world out there, but I can HELP others do it. I'm a facilitator there. And yes, I can actually write. Here is for the brain dump. Not even edited, much.

How effective I am at keeping things separated is another story. But at least I can find some things. With the assistance of my trusty Post-It notes.

And I've been traveling between two homes lately, without losing too much between the cracks, so I think I can finally speak on some ways to manage the ADHD brain (at least for this late stage of life, so more on that later).

Basics: coffee, coffee, and more coffee, as needed. Or other caffeine sources, depending on what is available. It has taken me years to figure out the right amount, but when added to a steady flow of movement (workout, yoga, dancing, pacing, fidgeting), things settle down into a flow. As long as I have control over my schedule, which is why, as everyone has known for most of my life, I am unemployable, not fit to be anyone's worker bee. But I can get shit done when the chips are down, when the deadline looms, when I have the freedom to make my own choices (however odd those choices may look to the uninformed onlooker).

Getting older, attaining Crone status, finally getting my shit together, and keeping the sparkle alive.

A Revival

 I'm back. 

Took time out for a JOB, 0 stars, do not recommend.

I never actually stopped writing, just stopped writing HERE. As in, since nobody actually reads this, there's no link from my web site (www.pattihermes.com, which is currently under Re-Construction yet again), why do I need to publish anything here?

Practice, practice, practice. 

And my hand got tired of holding the pen.

So, here we are, reviving the old, old blog, because there's a history here, and sometimes I like to look back, if only to wonder What The Hell Was I Thinking?

Coming from my current place on my own pedestal, older, wiser, maybe a little battered and bruised, but I'm sticking with the WISER. Always on the self-improvement path, learning new skills, improving old ones, and just basically trying to be a better person for this world. 

Not perfect, never perfect. Just better, most days.

And now, back to working on the web site, the full-time freelance writing business, and all things writing, and stuff.

I will not sit down and be quiet

Chicago Women's March 1/21/17 photo by PHermes

So taking part in the Women's March in Chicago last week was big for me. I have some strong opinions, but have never actually taken part in a political protest before. In fact, before the 2016 election, (my 9th Presidential) I'd only ever been to one political rally. In 1992, when Bill Clinton came to Boston, my former husband was interested in going, so I went along.

This year was different. No longer married, I had no partner to spur me on, nor to dissuade me. None of my friends invited me to join them. In fact, none of my friends were able to join me when I invited them. Not to the Bernie Sanders event, not to support Tammy Duckworth's Senate campaign, and finally, the Women's March. I went alone.

I'm a writer, not a doer. An introvert who would rather stay home and read than do just about anything. This is way outside my comfort zone. But to do nothing makes me even more uncomfortable.

So I got off the couch. I joined the crowds of women and not a few men on the early train into Chicago on a Saturday morning. The mood was uplifting. The conductors seemed especially friendly and helpful. They seemed to take a special joy in their work that day, in support of our cause.

Smiles and comraderie abounded in my fellow travellers and I was adopted into a few different groups along the way. The press of the crowds in the city made staying together an exercise in futility, so I let my new friends slip away and turned around to make more new friends. The feeling of "we're in this together" was strong. There were a few angry anti-Trump chants, the occasional profanity-laced sign, but the overwhelming vibe was that of positivity. A lot of humor, a lot of solidarity among the ages, from strollers to great-grandmas.

Chicago Women's March 1/21/17 photo by PHermes

We're all in this together. A little incredulous, as seen in the signs of "I can't believe I still have to protest this shit." We've been shocked out of our complacency. Yes, I am incredulous that a bunch of men still think it's their role in society to control women's choices by legislation. Not sure what to think about the so-called democratic process that put a madman in the White House, but it sure got my attention.

And now I've had a week to process the events, amid the daily onslaught of executive orders coming from said madman. And a few days sick in bed to hide away from the news. Nothing's changed, and there's much work to do.

If you're comfortable with the madman in the White House, then sit back and enjoy the ride. I'm not, and I most certainly will not sit down and shut up, no matter how nicely you ask. This is our new reality and we all have to deal with all of it.

Chicago Women's March 1/21/17 photo by PHermes

Sick Days

It's rare for me to get sick. Until The Pumpkin started high school this fall, it was rare for anyone in this household to get sick. But after homeschooling his entire life, he joined older brother by jumping right into the pool of viruses that live in a school of nearly 3000 students (plus faculty and staff). He struggles mightily to fight them off, but some are just too much and he ends up taking many trips to the nurse's office, and staying home more often than either of us wants.

So now it's my turn to join him in his misery. Bleh. 24-48 hours of Bleh deserves some mindless channel surfing. But I don't have cable, just an antenna for free broadcast tv. It's fine when I want to watch a specific show, but pretty limited for channel surfing. I end up flipping from one negative political ad to another. It's not helping my headache.

"Negative ad" is really just a euphemism for outright lies and blatant distortions of the truth to influence your vote. Just another use of mass media to hack away at what's left of democracy. It's not about electing the best candidate for the job at all. Only taking sides, and promoting one set of ideas over all others, and winning. And shouting down truth-tellers so that voters only hear the stories that will promote the status quo.

When I think about all the voters who don't get their information anywhere else, it's no wonder our government always seems to be a mess. Who could work with any of these characters portrayed on tv?

It's no wonder so many people feel depressed this time of year. You feel like your vote doesn't count, like your opinion doesn't count, and your way of life doesn't count, unless you have enough money to donate to the right causes and the right candidates. And all the screaming about the end of the world if the wrong candidate should actually win.

But every year, every "day-after-election-day", life goes on. Those who did not win their race pick up the pieces and get back to business. The rest of us breathe a sigh of relief as the commercials go back to hawking prescription drugs for what ails us.

Good thing there's still radio stations that play music.

School sucks

This homework is gonna be the death of me.

Wait, let's address the elephant in the room. Yes, it's been two years and some months since the last post, a rather pleasant suzy-homemaker post about homemade english muffins. Shortly before the shit hit the fan and the world came crashing down around me. So it took awhile for me to pick up the pieces and put some of them back together in a way that may or may not work. But I'm trying, making it work for what's left, making something new out of the mess that was. So now ...

back to the goddamned never-ending homework.

Homeschooling was never this much work. I rarely stayed up past my bedtime for any school-related assignments. If the boys had to stay up late to finish something, well, then they got to sleep in the next day. We Did NOT Lose Sleep for School!!!!

But now the almighty Algebra regularly keeps me up at night. English essays are worth losing sleep over? Yet another Packet for (this is ridiculous) PE. Yup, even PE assigns homework and tests. Because public school has to suck the life out of every single student, every single hour of every single day.

Back when my oldest was a freshman, he quietly did his homework until ... he didn't. Just stopped. For three years. Pretty much until he found classes, and teachers, who realized that overwhelming the students with tons of homework doesn't accomplish anything.

Now, the freshman of the hour regularly falls asleep while in the midst of his piles of homework. I can't help but wonder exactly who thinks this is making him into a better student? And to top it all off, the sleepy one has become quite clumsy and accident prone as well (but nobody thinks it has anything to do with a lack of sleep).

I'm a firm believer in natural consequences. So what shall they be for the perpetrators of our torture? Too tired to come up with anything good right now. But later, after coffee ...