In The Spirit Of Gardening, I Am

March 31, 2015March 31, 2015 / Ally Bean / 12 Comments

We have no pansies in our planting beds this spring.

I don’t know where my mind was last fall, but it wasn’t on planning ahead for pops of color, courtesy of pansies, around the house.

My bad.

No, instead, the little bit of color that we have in the planting beds is from a few bedraggled, unenthusiastic, ancient daffodils who look like they’re huddled together outside taking a smoke.

If they could speak, they’d be talking in an old guy NJ accent, asking each other for a light. “Hey, Murray! You got a lighter over dere? Whatcha say you lets me use it. Tanks, buddy.”

I feel that I’m working with the landscape crew in spirit.

The crew started our spring cleanup yesterday, but it takes them a day or two to complete our property. When we used to do the clean up ourselves it took us at least 4 weekend days, working together for 8 hours each day, to get this yard looking snazzy.

Too much for us.

So today while the crew is making things tidy outside, I’m inside perusing garden websites and gardening catalogues. It’s amazing how many plants and garden doodads we need when I apply myself to the task of helping the landscape crew in this way.

And that, kids, is what’s going on around here. I’m waiting for the big reveal after the landscape crew finishes, feeling that this expensive indulgence is worth the price. And I’m grooving on the idea that when you get down to it, middle age has its perks.

Morning Calm Disturbed, Questions Raised

February 26, 2015February 26, 2015 / Ally Bean / 24 Comments

The Incident Described.

Me at 6:15 a.m. Ambient lighting on in kitchen. Coffee brewed. Mug in right hand. Sitting at kitchen counter. Left elbow on counter to provide support for head. Eyes closed. Thinking about a popular saying* and its applicability to the life of a writer.

Husband enters room. I mumble something akin to “good morning.” But husband, who is always too awake in the morning, decides to revert to his 8-year-old self, slobber on his finger, then put his finger up my nose. Leading to the following:

me wide awake;
me wiggling out of his reach;
me laughing; and
me wondering about something.

The Questions Raised.

After the above incident, the focus of our subsequent early morning conversation was on defining exactly what makes up a wet willy. Keeping in mind that this is a PG13 blog, I ask you:

What do you call a slobbery finger up the nose? A wet willy? Or something else entirely?

The Asterisk Explained.

The saying I was thinking about, taken from medicine, was: “when you hear hoofbeats, think horses not zebras.” In other words, go with the obvious diagnosis/explanation. Or as applied to this particular post, go with the most recent event in your life, even if it is devoid of profundity and seems a bit silly!

In Which Fuzzy The Squirrel Seems To Blame Me For The Snow

February 24, 2015February 24, 2015 / Ally Bean / 26 Comments

IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANY control over the weather.

However, during this last cold snap I’ve gotten the distinct impression that Fuzzy the Squirrel, our resident goofball + star of many posts, has begun to blame me for the snowfall and wants me to suffer because of it.

I say this because he’s been consistently unwilling to get with the blogging program and permit me the honor of photographing him. He knows that he is a favorite feature on The Spectacled Bean.

~~Idiot squirrel.~~

~ ~ • ~ ~

THIS NEW BEHAVIOR IS PECULIAR BECAUSE Fuzzy is by nature a show-off who in the past has adored having his photo taken.

Pausing… so that I can get the camera angle adjusted in a way that flatters his well-maintained physique.
Positioning… himself around the grounds so that I can create a glorious tableau vivant.
Pondering… his world so that I can snap a close-up profile shot that flatters his ruggedly handsome features.

~ ~ • ~ ~

SO WHEN I NOTICED HIM CLIMBING Tree #3479 to his home the other day, I hesitated about grabbing my camera. I wondered if he’d be in the mood for a photo-op, but I decided to try, figuring that Fuzzy couldn’t hold out much longer.

He needs attention.

Thus it is with great pleasure, and the implied blessing of a narcissistic squirrel, that I give you my latest photograph of Fuzzy the Squirrel, titled: ~~Rodent With Bad Attitude In Winter~~ Our Dear Friend Enjoying Winter.

In Which I Become A Cliché & Make Myself Laugh

February 12, 2015January 28, 2021 / Ally Bean / 25 Comments

I ate dessert first last night.

I wasn’t certain if I was hungry so I had a snack of yogurt and homemade granola, which I sometimes have for my dessert.

After I ate it I was sure that I was hungry so I made myself a lovely dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes and broccoli and cranberry sauce.

Zen-Den was traveling for business so it was just me dining at the kitchen counter.

• • •

It wasn’t until I started cleaning up the kitchen that I realized that I’d eaten my meal in reverse order.

I started laughing at myself.

I mean, no one thinks that they’ll be the real life embodiment of a pop culture cliché gleaned allegedly from a woman born in 1892, yet I managed to do it.

By accident, of course.