Brain Fuzz

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Wildflowers

Some people have asked why my blog address is betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com. I assume they are wondering about the lolafalana part. Well, those of you who have followed me on Facebook may recall a while back I decided I was going to change my name to Lola Falana. Just because I like saying it. Lola Falana Lola Falana Lola Falana... it simply floats off the tongue! And it cracked up a couple of my girlfriends from high school so much that I decided to keep it that way. So on Facebook I am "Betsy Dowling (Lola Falana)" and for consistency's sake on this blog I am "betsylolafalanadowling." But you can make the checks out to CASH.

Lola Falana Lola Falana Lola Falana. In her day she was quite the wild performer. Apparently she was really big in Italy - who knew??? I think she's mellowed out now and has devoted her life to God. I wonder if she realizes how much God was enjoying her song and dance routines.

(I make no copyright claim to the work of Lola Falana herself.)

Gardening as Stress Relief

Of course it's not all about men. I have a lot gardening to do.

Even though I don't have my own garden anymore, I find it a great source of stress relief to work in other people's gardens. (And now I get paid to garden, which makes it even better.) Virtually any garden will do. Try it! You'll be amazed at how good it feels to dig in the dirt after a long, hard, meaningless day at work.

If you don't want to get dirty, hire someone like me to get dirty for you.

I love to bring attention to some of the wonderful businesses that don't have big advertising budgets. From time to time I will feature a business, artist, or product that I think you should know about.

For instance, there is a fabulous place near Portland, Oregon, on Sauvie Island, and it's called Cistus Nursery. They specialize in "zonal denial". It's worth a trip to Portland even if you don't live there. My incredibly talented friend, Drew Forsell, a landscape designer, landscape architect, and jardinier extraordinaire, introduce me to it. Here is their website:

Cistus Nursery

Creating the Low Maintenance Garden

Tip of the Day: If you wear your swimsuit while working in your garden it feels like you are on vacation.

I find this works for housework as well. If you are embarrassed to be so exposed, try adding a sarong. Don't worry too much about how you look - if we can't dress inappropriately at this age, when can we?

And always remember, in the garden you must wear protection, so cover those hands and feet with gloves and boots. I know it looks strange wearing gloves and boots with a swimsuit, but believe me, you'll thank me later. Have someone take a picture of you in this get-up. It'll make a great Facebook profile photo.

If you live in a cold climate, try wearing a bikini under your warm clothes - you will know that underneath you are ready for the beach. (This trick is also effective in the office environment - wearing a bikini under your work suit makes the day go much faster. I know. I did it for many years.)

Do you want to know what I did the night before my divorce was final? I walked into a bar down the street from my house in Portland - a very hip joint where all the patrons were at least ten years younger than I am. Actually, I think everyone in Portland is about ten years younger than I am. Now, I don't drink - I'm very low maintenance and a very cheap date because of this - but I was looking for someone to talk to and cheer me up and there was really no place else to go that night. My first inclination was to burst into the bar and shout out, "Hey, everybody! I'm about to get divorced after 19 years! Who wants to buy me a drink?!" But I didn't want it to turn into a scene from The Accused, so I decided to reel it in a bit. So I walked in, scanned the room quickly for the best looking fellow in the place (um...sorry, Portland, but so much unruly facial hair really throws me off) and immediately noticed a strapping young chap sitting at the bar with an empty stool next to him. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" He did a double take, recovered quickly, and offered me the seat. I then introduced myself and said, "I'm about to get divorced after 19 years. Would you like to buy me a Shirley Temple?" He laughed and told me that was the best offer he'd had all week and ordered a Shirley Temple for me and a beer for himself. He was super young. We had a nice conversation about marriage and divorce - he'd been through one a few years earlier.

He was a pretty big guy and I told him my son is turning out to be a big guy with big hands and big feet. He said, "Well, you know what they say." I cringed, realizing I'd walked right into it. And he smiled and said, "Big gloves and big socks!"

Portland has a few good men.

Credit for vintage surfer image pending research.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Grow Purple Flowers to Attract Butterflies

My wardrobe is becoming increasingly purple. I noticed this yesterday when I was doing my laundry. I have a LOT of purple tops. A few seasons ago when purple was really in style I was very happy about this because I've always looked good in purple. But now I can't seem to get away from it - I even have purple socks and underwear! And I can't help but think about that poem by Jenny Joseph called "Warning":

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Great. I'm becoming an old woman. Next stop: seat belt stuck in the car door.

The poem "Warning" was written by Jenny Joseph.

Image of butterfly from Zazzle Greeting Cards: http://www.zazzle.com/monarch_butterfly_on_purple_flowers_greeting_card-137590500942228188

Proper Pruning Techniques

I volunteer once a week as a tree pruner at the Desert Botanical Garden here in Phoenix, home of extremely civilized people. I qualified for this position after graduating from their Desert Landscaper School and proving myself on the trees in the parking lot. They don't let just anyone prune the trees in the garden, so, in the words of Donald Trump, I am VERY proud of myself.

The first thing I do when I approach a tree that is recommended for pruning is listen to it. Does it need to be pruned? Does it want to be pruned? Is it a little bit nervous about the whole thing? Usually when I look into a tree I can see a lot of dead wood that can be removed. This alone may be all that it needs. Pruning the dead wood - nice metaphor, eh?

Recently I've noticed that if I go in for my tree pruning session after a particularly difficult phone conversation with the man formerly known as my husband (loved him dearly, always will) I can become a little too aggressive with the trees. Like, I want to chop them down to the ground and hack them into little pieces. I warned my pruning partner, Larry, about this. I sort of require a de-briefing before I begin so I don't do any damage. Larry is 75 going on 25, wears a smart green helmet, and he keeps the tools sparkling clean. He almost always indulges my desire to have the final cut. I think he totally gets it.

By the way, Larry, if you are reading this, I still owe you six dollars.

Integrated Pest Management

So we killed Osama bin Laden. Not really sure what to say about this. Clearly he was a menace to the world. Excuse me while I review the Geneva Conventions for a minute...

Geneva Conventions

© 2011 betsylolafalanadowling.blogspot.com, Brain Fuzz & Betsy Dowling, All Rights Reserved

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Hang Bells and Chimes in your Trees for Added Ambiance in the Garden

I met this guy at my church when I first moved here. Nice guy, really. Good looking, too. Not a romance, though, and you'll understand why by the end of this post. He has a very sweet little daughter and my son likes to have playdates with her. We go to their house once in a while, nice swimming pool, a chance for my son to play with dolls, which I personally think is very healthy for boys. So sick of guns.

So anyway, the last time we got together he invited us out for lunch at one of those God-awful loud pizza joints designed to hyper stimulate children with carnival style rip-off games to steal their parents' money. We went...against my better judgment. I think I agreed to it mostly because I was lonely that day, craving adult company, and he said he would drive.

So he picks us up in his car and I notice he does not put his seat belt on. He's got his daughter all safely strapped in to her extremely expensive car seat, but he himself does not strap in. I'm like, "What's up with that?" And he says, "I always used to wear my seat belt, but then when they made it a law and said I have to wear it, I don't want to anymore." I'm thinking, what a dip shit. (I meet a LOT of people like that here in Arizona. WTF?) And I'm thinking, well, that'll be really nice for your daughter when you get hit by some idiot and she gets to watch your skull go through the windshield. But hey, survival of the fittest, you know? I didn't press the issue because I wasn't in the mood for an argument with a fool.

But here's the part that really got to me: he has not turned off the damned bell that goes off when you don't have your seat belt on! The bell was ringing CONSTANTLY while we were driving. DING DING DING DING DING. I thought I was going to go insane.

People! If you are going to be an idiot and refuse to wear your seat belts, PLEASE DISENGAGE THE BELL so you don't drive your passengers out of their minds!!!

(These would be really lovely hanging from a tree in your garden.)