I forgot to write this blog yesterday so I’m writing today in a passionate haste.  I still have to finish packing, and am leaving in two hours for Toronto!  I’m not sure why I have this terrible penchant for doing things at the last minute.

Yesterday, instead of packing, I was at the local nursery, shopping for my xeriscape project.  I’ve never had a list when shopping for plants, so that was novel.  As well, I’ve never experienced such quantities.  For example, Lisa ordered 41 dianthus plants!

But I didn’t question it.  I just loaded up 20 balloon flowers, 17 stonecrop, 12 switch grasses, etc.  I also didn’t even flinch at the till, so that was quite brave of me.  They didn’t have any of the shrubs on the list, and Lisa still has to find those, so the plant bill will grow.

On the weekend I went to a funky rock place, and picked out rocks for the edging of the berm and paths.  Later in the day it was horrible to see a large truck, steam stacks puffing away, coming up my narrow, steep driveway to deliver them.  But the driver was obviously a master at it, because not even a blade of grass was damaged.

Then I had the good fortune of having the City send a work crew my way to clean up old logs and fallen pine needles on the strip of City land right beside my driveway.  I was going to try to remove the needles myself, and I’m glad I didn’t try, as the guy said they took 6 half-ton trucks full of them to the dump!

It’s hard to know what to pack for this trip, but I think a few basics should leave me with a half-empty suitcase.  And we all know that that means, don’t we?  However Alison’s idea of shopping (Holt Renfrew) and my idea of shopping (Value Village) are opposites.

I’m returning on Tuesday and Nicky’s to pick me up at the airport.  I think Luke should be back from his trip to Thailand, too, so we can exchange stories of our experiences.  Hopefully he’ll have the sense to tone his stories down a bit for his poor old mother.

I feel somewhat under control as I leave, because I’ve left three tightly-written pages of instructions for Nicky.  I don’t like to leave anything to chance, as he’s not used to running the place on his own.  One of the women at the gym was very surprised to learn he’s never used the dishwasher, and is 22 years old.

Before leaving, I have to be sure to mail the blood money to the government that they slap out of entrepreneurs every spring.  God knows Bev Oda needs it, as she certainly can’t afford to pay for that limo out of her paltry income, and needs some of my earnings to help her.

As soon as I’m back next week, the landscaper’s going to be here with a brawny fellow, and the three of us are going to slap this yard into shape.  So I figure I may as well eat as much as I can while I’m away, as I’m pretty sure moving 15 yards of soil and rocks will burn off a lot of calories.