Before. Please God, Let There Be An After.

Wow, it's so overwhelming. I absolutely adore my house, but it is in desperate need of some serious gardening.

Last month, we paid the last bill for our building contractor. That means no more 7am jackhammer alarm clocks; no more strange, dirty men wandering in and out leaving muddy paw prints; not more frustrating conversations with my passive-aggressive contractor; no more frantic phonecalls to the financial planner ("what do you mean we didn't win the lottery?!?!).

So now I can address the pathetic bareness that is my landscaping.

I'm going to start with a list of plants that I like. Then I'm going to sit around and obsess about what my beds should be shaped like for...oh, a decade or two. Don't want to rush into anything. Then, I'll fret over whether I should suck it up and do everything myself (let's face it, in my world, the women do the manual labor) or hire someone to do it for me.

If I hire someone to do it for me, does that mean I'm spoiled?

When people gasp in awe of my gorgeous setting, and ask me, breathlessly, "Did you do all this yourself?" do I still get to answer, "Why... yes." And toss my hair nonchalantly?

Would I be failing at the job of teaching my darling children the value of sweat and elbow grease?

Well, these are the questions. Or at least a taste of the first fifty thousand questions. Aren't you excited??




Here goes...somethin'.