Oh, man. How to choose…

Sneeze. Wheeze. Drip, drip, drip. Spring is busting out all around Hacienda Elen.

Look out allergy sufferers, those trees are mating like crazy — horny trees. No, really. This is why you are suffering so. Spring has arrived about 14 days early, and the trees are having wild monkey sex. Mr. G, honey told me that BC — before coffee — yesterday. It’s the kind of thing that sticks in the mind more than say, tax code. I know he said more, but my brain wandered a little bit after the wild monkey sex reference. I was slurping caffeine and enjoying the idea of my trees getting lucky. Mr. G got this from an allergist on the radio waves. I’m waiting for Twitter confirmation on that.

Hitting the gardening centers today. Plants. Fertilizer. More plants. More fertilizer. Feeling green.

Then I’m going to wander into the kitchen and make this from Two Peas and Their Pod – the cooking couple. I’m seeing a green theme today.

Before I go, I wanted to leave you with something for writer Lisa Kessler’s Friday Happy Dance of Joy!

It was a tough decision. The Beatles? The Who? Springsteen? Celine Dion?

When you’re finished, hop on over and see The Boss here. All 10 glorious minutes of him. I might have clicked a hundred few times already. Sorry Mr. G, honey, but it is The Boss.

Weekend’s comin’!

Elen

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…

I have a case. A bad case of the spring fever. It might be terminal. Seriously. Spring has me totally in its grip. It’s like this every year. If you don’t think so, just read my blog months March 2008 and March 2009. I get it baaaaad.

I want to swing in the park, maybe through the trees like Tarzan.

I want to slide down the slide, the doomsday one.

I want to splash through the puddles, with or without rubber boots.

And cruise, baby, cruise!

When I’m not doing that, I want to sit at an outdoor cafe in my oh so hot sunglasses and drink alcohol-infused calories.

I want to stroll in a flirty skirt, which might have to wait until June in northern girl country. Who knows what Mama Weather has on her fickle brain. That could be tomorrow or August.

I want to raise Cain and maybe some eyebrows.

I’m in a mood.

A spring fever kind of mood.

The first day of spring was once the time for taking the young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil in the crankcase.

~E.B. White, “Hot Weather,” One Man’s Meat, 1944

Elen