Monday, June 08, 2009

40 Days and 40 Nights

I don't care what the calendar says. This first Columbine bloom of the season is the official start to my summer.

Oh, thank God! I thought to myself ~ as I peered out the kitchen window at bright sunshine. A glimmer of hope in this grey, dreary, overly saturated spring.

More first blossoms: Johnson's Blue Geranium peeks out from behind lush foliage.

My joy was short-lived. The coffee hadn't finished brewing when dark clouds blocked out the happy sun and another deluge was upon us.

It's a toss up, I suppose. The scent of fresh Lilacs is intoxicating but the cheery pink blossoms of Flowering Almond are pretty irresistible, too.

I guess it really didn't matter if it rained this weekend ~ which it did, as it has done for as long as I can remember.* And, will do for as long as Google can predict.

Because I was stuck behind closed doors in what could easily go down in history as the most depressing sales meeting I have ever attended.

And, I'm not even in sales.

So, just imagine how the sales reps felt.

Alliums standing tall
(Haze, if you're reading this, these are the ones I thought were tulips when you were visiting! Dang. I can't get anything right.


As a freelancer, I work with all sorts of companies. Some are sweet. Some are mean. This company is by far the hardest ~ for the most childish of reasons. They don't like me. They really don't! I don't know why they don't like me. I'm kind of nice...

Mom's Wild Roses are going hog wild.

As I sat there for hours and hours and hours, I tried to earn my keep by offering up [what I thought was] one good idea after another. They kept looking at me like I was the village idiot. At one point I actually went into the ladies room and sort of sniffed my shirt to see if, perhaps, I smelled really bad or something.

Non-stop Tulip action: Heirlooms that (apparently) bloom forever.

So, I'd toss out an idea and feel like a fool. Minutes later some fellow in the room would take my idea and repeat it to the crowd. Then everyone would smile and say... Oh, that's good... Huh? I dunno, seems hard to believe that in this day and age I could be considered 'a dumb girl.' But, maybe so. The good news is I survived and I guess that counts for something. Hopefully something more than a bruised self-esteem.

* Admittedly I don't have a great long-term memory. Or even a pretty good short-term memory. But, I do believe this is the rainiest damn spring I've ever seen.

However! This deep drenching has inspired pretty much every flower in my garden to get with the program.

9 comments:

Wunx~ said...

Well, I like you, I think you're nice. And I've never notice that you smell funny. (Of course, my nose is kinda deaf.)

Kate said...

Thanks! But, I'm still worried about being a dumb girl...

OmegaMom said...

Y'know, even Ruth Bader Ginsburg complains about this happening to her: she makes a suggestion or comment, and no-one even notices, then, a few minutes later another of the Supremes makes the same damn suggestion or comment, and the rest are all saying "Boo-yah! Great idea!"

You're in good company.

I'm glad your flowers are blooming, to counteract the deluge!

Kate said...

Thanks but that makes me a little sick to my stomach to think that Ruthie has to deal with such b.s. By the way, I am enjoying dotter's road trip art. :)

KC said...

Sounds like you need to go riding for sure. Winston Churchill said, "The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man." Just as good for a woman I would think.
And....I don't think a company would keep you for over 10 years if they thought you were not nice, dumb, stinky, and didn't like you. I'm guessing times are tough and they are feeling the pinch. I hope the rain didn't ruin all your great plans for them.

Kate said...

Karen, I think I need to make you my own personal motivational speaker. :D

And, yes! Rain or no rain, I am saddling up Meg for a long ride this afternoon. Even a slog through the mud will be 'good for my insides.'

Granny J said...

I like you. I also like your yellow rose and your wild stripey tulip. And I wish we had blue and white or just blue columbine down here in AZ, where the columbine are happy but yellow. Isn't this a weird spring here in the west???

Kate said...

Aw, thanks Granny. I like you, too. That yellow rose is probably 50 or 60 years old. I snitched it from my Mom's place.

Yes, this much rain is just bizarre. It's to the point where my waterwise perennials are drooping and suffering. Maybe they are drowning.

thismngardener said...

Who is mean to you? How dare they?? Let me at 'em!! grrrr.