. . .
I’m alive. Despite the best efforts of about 300 dancers to induce a major stroke, I’m alive. I’ve survived another day of year-end shows. My deltoids are so sore from lugging costumes four blocks to the theatre yesterday, that I can barely lift my arms today. And all of that squatting to dress teeny-tiny dancers (and then to pick up, fold, and re-pack costumes), has resulted in inner thighs that are so sore that I can’t seem to get up and down stairs. Or walk. Or sit. And watching my absolutely exquisite advanced dancers on stage has resulted in a rather swollen heart – but I’m thinking that won’t kill me.
With only a week left in the regular dance season, I’m headed toward one awesome summer vacation. I picked up about 4,000 paint chips today – I’ve got furniture to paint, and walls to slather in brand new colour. I’m taking Rosie Beaucoup to Toronto to visit my sister and eat. (Yup, we’ll be doing lots of eating.) And I’ve got a million new recipes to try, along with some big gardening projects. People, it’s gunna be good.
On to business. It’s been a month since we planted our veggie patch, and it’s been the crappiest spring ever. Somehow we’ve got radishes – almost-ready-to-munch-on radishes. It’s very exciting for a first time gardener. The onions are looking good, the peas have started to branch out, and the beets look almost beet-like. We should be eating lettuce soon, and I think – just maybe – I see a couple of carrots that have survived the monsoon.
Tomorrow I’m going to transplant some zucchini. I’ve heard that zucchini is quite prolific, so if you find some squash on your doorstep… it was me.