I think my husband and I are certifiably crazy.
On Saturday, we did the annual “close out the garden” day at our veggie patch. We harvested the last of the beets and carrots, cut back the Comfrey, transplanted about twenty Peony rhizomes to the front of the house (and gave ten away to a friend… too many peonies…), and pulled all the mulch back from the soil. Then, Husband roto-tilled while I heaved well-decomposed manure into the back of my father’s truck, one shovelful at a time. Then… Well, manure was applied to fluffy-wonderful soil, the mulch pile was neatened, the compost bin shored for the winter, and we were done.
We don’t have to touch our veggie patch until Spring.
We did all this with toddler in tow, amazingly, and he spent the whole day outside, even his nap. We left home at 8:30 in the morning, and got home at 5 PM. I was exhausted, dirty, smelly, and ready for a big mug of tea, my comfy clothes, and Diana Gabaldon’s Echo in the Bone. My son was ready for some play-time with real toys, even though he had enjoyed the pile of leaves, rocks, errant planting tools and the dog’s slobbery squeaky balls (Dog being a Jack Russell, who, for the first time in his life, shared his toys. It was amazing…). My husband had rings of dirt under his eyes, around his nose, through his hair, and under his nails. We had a crate full of produce to process, a mountain of laundry, vaccuuming… the house was a mess.
But then, this is where the crazy kicked in.
Two hours later, we had showered, dressed, bathed the baby, vaccuumed, scrubbed the bathroom into sensibility, cleaned up the living room, set a ten person table with good china, put a pork roast on the BBQ, plated sushi and vegetable appetizers on the table, decanted wine, thrown two freshly made apple pies in the oven, and welcomed the first of our guests.
Oh yes. We did.
We hosted a dinner party.
Our son played with everyone, handing them toys, asking “up-a!”, and generally being cute in his footsie PJ’s. I stumbled about like a drunken person, escaping to the kitchen each time I needed to yawn, and guzzled lukewarm coffee with a couple of extra strength Advil. My husband? Infuriatingly, he was alert, bright-eyed, and in his element, bouncing about like he hadn’t spent the day raking and walking behind a roto-tiller up to his ankles in garden soil. Either he was slap-happy and getting his second wind, or a really good faker.
I wanted to bop him on the head with a spatula.
It was quite the scene, trying to clean a house in two hours. We scurried and got the kitchen, livingroom, bathroom, and dining area clean before guests arrived, but our rooms and downstairs? I cringed as I gave a (requested) tour to a guest, explaining that we had been away all day, hence the maelstrom of laundry flung to the four corners of the earth in several rooms. Err yeah… I wasn’t expecting to give a tour, so we had shoved the mess that we couldn’t sort out into a room where we could close the door. Doh…. learned my lesson there! Hide the mess better next time!
Once we had demolished the vast amounts of food provided by pot-luck, I took a quick respite and put our son to bed. As I sat in the rocker, letting him get drowsy to bedtime lullabye music, I could hear the laughter and conversation, muffled through the door, my husband’s laughter louder than anyone elses. It made me smile, and relax. We had pulled it off! Unbelievably, what was supposed to be a “informal pot luck” had turned into a ten person sit down dinner and games night, complete with munchies, tea in wee little china cups, and wine. My husband was happy, and relaxing, so it was a great thing to do. I suppose I tend towards being an introvert when I need to unwind and relax, and he is the opposite. The get together had been his idea, not mine, but I had eventually relented and said ok, so I was complicit.
I must say that although I was dead-dog tired, my feet screaming, my arms and back moaning in protest of many shovelfuls of messy stuff earlier in the day, I was refreshed by good food, great wine, and good friends. I was not thinking about tomorrow, when the “overworked” hangover would kick in.
We cleared the table for a good game of Pit after dinner. Much hilarity and shouting ensued, as anyone familiar with the game can attest. At one point, I had “pitted” with Oats three times in a row! It was a new game to all but myself and a couple of other people at the table, so I think everyone had a good time learning how to play a great game. We left out the bear and bull so the game would be simpler and go faster. It was a lot of fun, and I very much enjoyed it. I was too tired to really be on my game, and hence was lagging behind in points by the end. That was ok.
At the end of it, my husband and I rolled into bed at one in the morning, thankful that our son was still asleep. I was now really sore through my arms and back, and studiously ignoring the humongous pile of china in the kitchen to be washed. I didn’t want to think about it, and the stiffness from a day of gardening that would invade my muscles before morning. As we fell asleep, I shook my head and muffled overtired giggles at the insanity of our day.
Yup, crazy. But I suppose, in a good way.