Cut back at Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and July 4th. For Spring pruning, cut back to buds at the base of the plant.

Would be nice to put in some Joe Pye Weed this year.

Two nights ago, James was here with 3 friends for an overnight. He and Tyler had been here on and off all weekend.

I was able to clean up the kitchen and put the basement clubhouse in order before knocking off last night. This morning, I reorganized the blankets and pillows and got those put away.

Yesterday, I finished putting super phosphate on the flowering shrubs in the back, including the lilacs, hydrangeas, Montauks, butterfly bushes, peony and St. Johnswort.

I’m pretty much done with pruning and possibly even weeding for now.

Today I shall clean up the section of the basement reserved for Ron’s trunks and boxes.

I also want to spread the mulch, load the truck with throw-aways from the basement, get to Fedex or UPS and attend a talk at Mahoney’s.

Well, that didn’t work out as planned.

I did get most of the basement cleared out, but not all of it.

I didn’t touch an inch of mulch.

I did load the truck with most but not all of the throw-aways.

I did get to Fedex but not to Mahoney’s or to the beach clean-up.

I invited James to come over to do a yard sale. We set out tables and posted signs, but we just didn’t have enough good stuff to make it worthwhile.

Plus, it was cold, windy and unpleasant.

I ended up with four boys (James, Tyler, Shane and a new friend, John). Tyler stomped on my poor Jacob’s Ladder. Emme came along, but we didn’t get around to doing anything fun. It was a challenge to keep the grill from blowing out, but James was able to roast hot dogs and rolls.

All in all, a somewhat disappointing day in terms of productivity.

Today I shall clean up the section of the basement reserved for Ron’s trunks and boxes.

I also want to spread the mulch, load the truck with throw-aways from the basement, get to Fedex or UPS and attend a talk at Mahoney’s.

We had a frost warning last night, but I didn’t see any this morning. It is cold and windy, not a real great day to be outside tending a yard sale, which is happening across the street at Candy’s.

Three weeks from today, Ron will be here.

I am very happy about that.

Even though I’ve lived by myself for decades, I’m looking forward to his moving in. As he’s said several times, I wish it were over. In about a month or so, he should be pretty well settled in.

It’s been raining, with thunder and lightning, since around 4:30 this morning. At times, the rain has come down in sheets.

The backyard has several large puddles in the usual spots.

Glad to have gotten at least some compost down yesterday, and wish I could have done more.

Picked up compost today at the Falmouth leaf collection center on Blacksmith Shop Road and half a yard of black mulch at BSF. Put down most of the mulch and a good chunk of the compost in front of the house. Hope to do more work tomorrow. Pretty beat right now.

I’ve never had much respect for men who are sexually attracted to small, dark women.

My daughter-in-law is of average size and she’s a pretty girl. I’m glad that my son was secure enough to marry her instead of some petite bimbo-ette.

When I was in high school, a male friend, reading a blurb about “Madama Butterfly”, stated how disgusted he was with a reference to “the submissive women of the East.” I’ve always admired that young man, whose insight into that twisted sexual dynamic was spot-on.

There is something unmanly and even sinister about seeing an average-sized or tall man with a tiny woman, especially a tiny dark woman. It’s like being forced to watch pederasty, incest, Third World child sex slavery, pornographic films of adults raping little screaming children.

Getting your rocks off because it’s fun to be able to lift a grown woman into the air makes me sick to my stomach.

Same reaction I have to men fornicating with animals.

I understand that men of small stature want women of similar size, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

For everyone else, though, being sexually attracted to tiny women is a major red flag. It tells me that man has something very seriously wrong with his head, that he’s struggling with his sexual identity.

Although it’s not up to me to make the call, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable leaving such a man alone with my grandkids.

It’s been foggy and windy all day. I did some more cleaning out of the front bushes, but the main yard work was to get rid of the truckload of forsythia clippings from yesterday.

Had a PT session with Andy, then dropped off some Senior Center rolls to the Cohens. Peter had two extractions today. Glad that’s over with, he was in a lot of pain.

Fluffles escaped this morning. While I was washing dishes, I saw a large, fluffy, pretty gray cat in the back yard. He came in right away, good cat. Have you ever seen a more innocent face?

Finally made bread pudding this afternoon from the leftovers in the frig. Used wheat bread, and it turned out pretty well, nice and mushy. Brought some over to John, who loves it. I hope it meets expectations!

Three falls this past winter, two on ice and one inside, but miraculously, I didn’t break anything.

It has left my right hip very sore, but thanks be to heaven, it isn’t fractured or dislocated.

Rather, per my PT, there’s inflammation, as in bursitis or tendonitis.

He’s set me up for 3 sessions a week to see if we can get the muscles in shape for the end of the month.

I like Ron very much, and I respect him for wanting to “do the right thing” by me and Peter.

We don’t have the spark, though, that he had with his most important priors.

It may be just too late for us: too many hurts and disappointments, but bottom line, it’s finally come out that Ron doesn’t find me attractive.

After explaining that his marriage to a blond-haired woman was just pay-back and his long-term affair with the overweight she-who-will-not-be-named was about money, we find that his real interest is in pretty, feminine, little-black-dress women.

He thinks that’s not my deal, and up to now, I’d say he was right. Maybe I haven’t had the courage to be that kind of person for fear of ridicule.

Ron’s blather about Jeanne, Melody and Susan, the three dark-haired petite women in his past, has thrown me for a loop up to now.

But I’m starting to develop a thicker skin. I realize that my head has been entirely in the wrong place about this.

Rather than thinking of my body as a faithful companion, I have ended up hating it. It’s not a correct or just way to think.

Ron’s regrettable superficiality is the problem, not my body.

Yesterday, my body endured a grueling session at Edgewater. The cuts in my hands were so numerous that I started bleeding last night when Ron and I were on the phone, and my back and legs were as stiff as a board.

This morning, though, my body has healed enough that I feel pretty good. I’m proud of my level of fitness.

Ron, though, focuses on the negatives. Even after months of conversations, he still doesn’t get it. His dodging of legitimate questions about what he finds attractive and feminine is irritating and insulting.

He said last night that he doesn’t want me to be a little black dress piece of eye candy that he can parade into the country club because that’s not him.

Thus, it appears that’s exactly what he does want, but until he gets back in shape himself, he’s chosen me because he thinks there won’t be competition for my attention. As evidently there was with Jeanne, Melody and Susan.

I’m just glad that this house has a second bedroom. The last thing in the world I want is to sleep with someone who prefers an Audrey Hepburn fantasy to a strong, brave, flesh and blood woman.