... and a peach that's getting peach-colored...
These things are keeping my heart light, as I sit on the front porch, reading... waiting for my sweetheart to come home.
June 11, 2009
At the Peach Cafe....
... I've got a peach-colored rose
... and a peach that's getting peach-colored...
These things are keeping my heart light, as I sit on the front porch, reading... waiting for my sweetheart to come home.
... and a peach that's getting peach-colored...
These things are keeping my heart light, as I sit on the front porch, reading... waiting for my sweetheart to come home.
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71 comments:
Sigh. That was such a sweet sentiment it brought tears to my eyes. (Not that I cried or anything...)
When you are waiting for your sweetheart to come home, you are not just waiting for your sweetheart. You are waiting for yourself, the planet & the Universe.
Everything is peachy for Althouse!
Cool.
You could Be My Yoko Ono.
Although, If I Had $1000000, I'd like that even more.
Because... I would buy you a house.
And some furniture for your house.
(1) Professor Althouse has a peach-colored rose and a peach that’s getting peach-colored.
She also has a low-grade infection caused by Wilsonomyces carpophilus.
She might want to disclose that to her sweetheart.
(2) Speaking of fruit-colored roses, here in USDA zone 6b, we are very fond of the floribunda Fragrant Apricot.
It gets some black spot, but around here that’s par for the course.
My fellow Althousians, please file the foregoing under “Bits of Unsolicited Garden Advice #17.”
Moving to the country, going to eat a lot of peaches...
P.S. I deleted my 4:21 because it broke up Meade’s double comment.
I don't like it when that happens to me and I’m one hell of a nice, thoughtful and considerate sweetheart of a guy.
Go ahead . . . ask anyone.
Ha!
Also, I'd buy you some Bordeux mixture for that peach disease that Bissage - that one hell of a nice, thoughtful and considerate sweetheart of a guy - so nicely, thoughtfully, and considerately pointed out.
What a double fragrant sweetheart of a floriwunda bunda of joy he is.
I mean it.
No joke.
I kid you not.
Reading this post, after reading about Letterman and looking at lip-eyed Keith Richards, is like stepping out of a swamp and into the clean spring rain.
Meade,
You should by her a K-Car - a nice reliant automobile.
And get rid of all those boxes of mac and cheese in your cupboard.
On the other hand, you could just eat more.
Peachy!
Does this mean you're done grading?
I just finished that today, actually, changing the one 'I' I gave to an 'F'. If you don't do work, you don't pass.
Speaking of peaches and wine, here is a place for some excellent peach wine:
http://www.stonebrookwinery.com/
Limited distribution on the wine I believe, but they do have some at the tastings, and its not that expensive.
Come ona my house my housa come on, I'm gonna buy you everything!
Meade said...
Because... I would buy you a house.
And some furniture for your house.
But not a real peach dress (with rouching) -- that'd be cruel.
That so looks like my grandfather's porch and his rocking chair (which he kept indoors however). He's been gone a number of years now, but he was quite a character in his day.
I know that feeling. Every day I can't wait for my guy to get home from work.
ah, how sweet, I guess we can just say that everything is just PEACHY as opposed to coming up ROSES.
Uh-oh, Meade.
I don't know whether this is good news or bad news for you. You are younger than Althouse, true?
Growwl.
Why Cougars Crave "Idol" Runner-Up Adam Lambert
Wednesday, June 10, 2009 3:44 PM
By Newsweek
By Joan Raymond
Let's talk images. A snake. A butterfly. A young man with his shirt unbuttoned to his waist, pouting at the camera. Lots of chest stubble. Alone, each image is rather boring. Put them together, and what you have is a hotter-than-Johnny Depp new Rolling Stone cover of American Idol runner-up Adam Lambert. The 27-year-old dude who made guyliner fashionable again gave an interview to the magazine confirming—big surprise—that he's gay. What's really surprising: I can't stop thinking about him. And neither can any of my cougar-aged friends. We love Adam, truly, madly, deeply, in a kind of weirdly Mrs. Robinson sexual way. And the reason doesn't just have to do with our past lives as professional groupies. It also has something to do with biology.
Just a few short months ago, most of my female friends and I were clueless about Adam Lambert. We're busy, professional women, some of us with demanding families and children, all of us with demanding jobs. We never spent our Tuesday nights in front of the TV. Yet this year, for slightly more than two months, phone calls went unanswered and any type of social or familial interactions were put on hold on so we could plop ourselves in front of our sets at 8 p.m. to watch American Idol, the No. 1 rated show on TV, which none of us had ever bothered with before. It started innocently enough: A friend, waylaid by a flu bug, was channel-surfing from the comfort of her couch one Tuesday evening and saw a bejeweled young thing singing a scorching rendition of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire." She left us phone messages and tweets, saying, and I quote, "ohmygawdyouhavetoseethisemoglambowielovechildonAmericanIdol." We went, "Huh," but we tuned in the following week. And then we were gone.
My seemingly well-adjusted posse, myself included, morphed into archetypal Adam Lambert fangirls. We became Glamberts, besotted with the leather and rhinestones, the perfectly smudgy guyliner, the emo coal-colored coif and, oh, yeah, the preternatural vocal range. When we got together, we no longer talked about good books, North Korea or the recession. We talked about all things Lambert. We became the thing that we normally despise: a cougar court that fell into a gentle loin lust with a man young enough to be our son. And a gay one, to boot.
Same to you, big guy.
* blushes *
``A dog believes his master is at the door. But can he also believe his master will come the day after to-morrow? -- And what can he not do here? -- How do I do it? -- How am I supposed to answer this?''
Wittgenstein Phil Inv pt 2.
I like these cafes.
They give a chance to share something about ourselves... even if it's a Seinfeldian nothing. A nothing is better than nothing.
Excuse the effervescence.. it's all Redsox induced.
Talk to me trooper ;)
Pesche fresche o pesca di tresca?
The Georgia Peach Festival will held be this weekend in Peach County Georgia, which is 30 miles south of Macon at Warner Robbins, Ga. on the Flint River. June is a time for all things Peach.
"A dog believes his master is at the door. But can he also believe his master will come the day after to-morrow? -- And what can he not do here? -- How do I do it? -- How am I supposed to answer this?"
Wittgenstein Phil Inv pt 2.
"..perhaps we really do not want to know the answers to these questions. We should not despise the desire to be kept in ignorance -- are there not many facts about yourself and your loved ones that you would wisely choose not to know? Speaking for myself, I am sure that I would go to some lengths to prevent myself from learning al! the secrets of those around me -- whom they found disgusting, whom they secretly adored, what crimes and follies they had committed, or thought I had committed! Learning all these facts would destroy my composure, cripple my attitude towards those around me. Perhaps learning too much about our animal cousins would have a similarly poisonous effect on our relations with them."
Daniel C. Dennett
Animal consciousness: what matters and why.
Rooster shelters from rain under smooth sumac this morning.
If I had a Million Dollars.
And a peachy sweet summer's eve to everyone. Ain't life wonderful?
When all is said and done it's good to have a companion.
Of course, it doesn't rank with saving the world,
Only the sanity of every boy and girl.
For your listening pleasure:
Tab Hunter and Young Love
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRr5nwXUYhU
"sweetheart" is one of my favorite words.
I wander if learning what Titus looks like would destroy my composure and cripple my attitude towards those around me.
I'll take a chance.
My bid for a Titus Althouse and Meade picture (if he wants to) just went up to $50 bucks.
Yes, the pic is to be shared here at Althouse.
Meade's comment about taking his million dollars and buying Ann a house and some new furniture has me sitting and pondering...
While that sounds perfect for me, and maybe Ann, Meade, I wonder what the rest of you do with a million bucks?
I wonder what the rest of you do with a million bucks?
Oh that's easy. I would increase my bid for the Titus pic.
@Meade...
Although, If I Had $1000000, I'd like that even more.
Because... I would buy you a house.
And some furniture for your house.
The sentiments of a man in love. Isn't this what we want for the woman we love. This ,of coarse, means that we love her, want to hold her and care for her.
Love after 50 is wonderful. Strong, independent women,
"who know their way" are the best mate no matter the age.
As to the money, it comes and goes. $ 1,000,000 today can be
$10,000 in a month. You know the saying, "for richer or poorer".
True love knows no bounds and stands forever. As the kids say,"like no inflation".
I wish you two kids the best, now and always.
As to the money, it comes and goes. $ 1,000,000 today can be
$10,000 in a month.
Thats If an Obama czar even lets you keep it.
"Now we've moved into the realm of gangster government. We have gangster government when the Federal Government has set up a new cartel and private businesses now have to go begging with their hand out to their local--hopefully well politically connected--Congressman or their Senator so they can buy a peace offering for that local business. Is that the kind of country we are going to have in the future?"
Alfred Deller I will give my love an apple.
On the Three Ravens album 1955.
Lem, while it is ever so easy to allow any waking serious thought to move to the state of our nation, how about we take an Althouse post off from that tonight, and just roll with imagining something sweet as a peach.
Ahhhh. Young love. Althouse and Meade.
Also, I LOVE the cottage-y look of the Ohio digs. It is very northern Michigan style-wise, but with a swealtery southern look.
Peaches.
""sweetheart" is one of my favorite words."
One of my favorites too, AlphaLiberal. Well, as long as it isn't coming from the mouth of Edward G. Robinson.
Awww...
@ Lem The key so far is remain private. They may come for us eventually, but we will be the last. Obamas handlers will only go so far. There is too much money at stake. There are enough wealthy people in our country who will eventually stop this nonsense. The "small" businessman is the "cash cow" of this country. Guns, butter, and good attorneys will prevail. I hope!
Point well taken Penny, my bad ;)
I gave my love a cherry...
Lem, you give bad a good name.
I love how southern ladies call you
shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugah
hunnnneeeee
and sometimes baby or baby girl
with that mountain accent! And their hearts of gold!
It melts the heart.
Where I live, it is "aggressively lush."
I set up an outdoor room last Sunday, with an offset patio umbrella and super cushy chairs and a little table for my beer or iced tea.
I am off on medical for two months and I can't do jack physically, so I thought a lovely outdoor room with shade would be a perfect way to enjoy the sweet southern sun. And the cool of the evening.
Iowa had jungle hot steamy summer nights. The eastern KY mountains have cool summer evenings--it's unbelievable.
Yesterday I fell on my front stairs, my legs were tired from moving crap. I moved stuff out of the basement on May 9 because of potential flooding. I had to move that all back, and declutter and get stuff out of the house for guests. So my legs were tired and I didn't lift my leg high enough to clear the step and I stubbed my toe hard and reeling back in pain I lost my balance and fell off the next stair to the ground...all the way down I'm thinking I better not break anything! And I didn't. Some cuts and bruises but nothing serious.
I went rowing (sculling) today on a beautiful, remote, wild lake. I took my Strike Alert II personal lightning detector, and the forecast was iffy, so I knew I was taking a risk. But it's the last day for two months. I was getting blips on the display but I wanted to make it all the way up to the Hurricane Creek notch and have a rest. The sky was looking black so I cut my rest short and rowed steady and hard back to the marina. I was about 45 minutes up the lake and it's surrounded by cliffs--no emergency escape. I was rounding the corner to the marina when I started hearing nearby thunder and had close distance readings on the detector. I was getting off the water when I first saw lightning. I had secured my equipment in case of high winds and I was esconced safely in my car for about ten minutes before the storm unleashed. Perfect timing.
My house is super clean ready for guests. Sister in law and her daughter arrive Saturday, I get out of the hospital Sunday if all goes well. I am optimistic this is not cancer. Regardless, it's a good thing for my breast cancer risk management.
I am having a total hysterectomy including fallopian tubes and ovaries. My right ovary is huge and there's a solid mass or tumor within it. My CA 125 test was normal, and I had a negative PET CT scan in January, so I'm optimistic. There's only about a 20 percent chance it could be ovarian cancer or a mets of a cancer I've had previously. (I've had three primary cancers.)
Another great thing today, my favorite shampoo and conditioner that my stylist doesn't sell any more, is at JC Penney on sale with an extra discount coupon. Matrix Biolage Colour Therapie! They didn't have the smoothing gel though. I bought three large sets so I'm well stocked. It was way cheap compared to what my stylist was charging. Happy shopping score!
I report to the hospital at 845 am. Was unsuccessful at talking the doc into chipping in a bonus free bellyectomy lipo and tummy tuck. Rats.
Oh, and regarding the photos:
petals unfolding
succulent fruitflesh
That's sort of like a Georgia O'Keefe almost-haiku. Very female sexuality.
I hope my doctor doesn't cut my happy nerves when she cuts out my juicy bits tomorrow.
"... waiting for my sweetheart to come home."
I always think of hearts being a savory dish.
Sleep well, kyliz. Prayers and well wishes.
kliz, I don't know if you've retired for the night, but if not -- girl, all will be well. Let's go with that assumption.
I wish you all the best.
Yeah, best wishes, Liz. God be with you (and He shall)! You're in my thoughts and prayers.
And I thought I was having a bad day!
Liz. I am no southern girl, but sugah, baby girl, go to sleep knowing that they can cut as much out of you as they want tomorrow, but they just can't ruin your night at the Peach Cafe.
Good luck tomorrow liz
Liz
Ar Hyd Y Nos
Sleep well....be well.
Hey, good luck liz, thoughts out to you.
A prayer for your health and safety, and for you doc too, KLiz.
Looking forward to seeing you back here soon.
And Liz, I'm here to let you know that once you awaken tomorrow after the surgery, you're in menopause, full blown. This came as something of a surprise to me last week!
I pray that all is as you expect, and that your surgeon's good care brings you comfort. I am already feeling much better, and am absent the symptoms that sent me seeking help in the first place.
Your little peach is blushing.
Here, have yourself some jalapeño poppers made from canned jalapeño peppers, cheddar cheese, and won ton wrappers.
I nom nom nwom am such a * snort * pig I ate nom nwom * burp * the whole nom nwom nom plate, oink.
Red roses are grossly overrated.
The eastern KY mountains have cool summer evenings--it's unbelievable.
The cool nights are needed for making all that jelly.
http://lansner.freedomblogging.com/2009/06/11/real-housewife-saves-coto-home-from-foreclosure/25593/
_____________________
I'm a little late, Liz, fellow Southerner. I'll add you to my prayers. All the best, and hope you are sleeping well.
k-liz,
take care,
come back soon,
we need to read your next post
from your outdoor room
with the super cushy chairs
where you say
d'éist Dia le mo ghuÃ
I'm even later, KYLiz, but I hope things go well and your recovery is smooth and rapid.
Beth, I'm happy to read that you're so quickly getting better.
KentuckyLiz - I'm a bit late, sorry, and I wish you a successful surgery and a swift and full recovery.
MH
Liz, I pray all goes well. All goes as easy and quick as possible. All goes according to your hopes. I pray all heals quickly and in the midst of all of this you are able to find profound peace, and encouragement, and even laughter. May the pain and the bother go away quickly.
Check in again when you can.
KentuckyLiz, sorry I didn't see that last night. We all wish you well. You sound as though you have a great attitude, and I hope everyone around you gives you lots of support and love.
MadisonMan, thanks. I seem to be right on schedule. I have gone in to my office for about 3 hours for two days now, and that's been just fine. I am certainly slowed down in my movements, and can't pick up anything over 8 lbs (the "gallon of milk" standard), but so far, so good.
I didn't have the history that Liz has of cancer, so my main worries were just a general anxiety about anesthesia and the dislike of being in pain, and being bored. Anesthesia is apparently quite an advanced science, and boredom is a motivation to get on your feet and walking again.
I hope Liz has as easy an experience, relatively speaking, as I did. If she's having lapryscopic surgery, that's going to make for an easier recovery than an abdominal incision. Either way, that shady porch and lots of ice tea will come in handy.
Very late to this post, but had to wish kentuckyliz the best as well. Hope to see you posting again soon.
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