Bast Temple Garden Project (Kitchen witch relaxing when things go sideways)

If my Secret Mormon Wife and Daughter are reading this, I want it on record that I am trying to be a better human being. Instead of stressing out when Khari, my "legal" wife, came home. annoyed that DPS payroll had messed up--I declared that it was a Garden Day. Yeah, I am a monk. Yes, Khari had to call the bank twice already to get charges reversed (because we are living paycheck to paycheck, like everyone else in America), borrow money for gas, and could not get groceries on the way home. But the money was in the account by the time that I learned about it, so I was a monk. 

Let's go get something to eat; then go to Home Depot, and buy heavy bags of mulch and plants. That way, you can play in the dirt--and feel better. After all, the boxes are built. 

Yeah, I saw no need to wreck my day. I took my migraine meds. Sat on my angry luggage. 

I have been wrestling all week with a Secret Mormon Daughter. Her Denver Public School payroll problem was a barely a blip on my radar. Plus, I needed to do some hard physical labour for her. And I wanted to get paid. So I wanted cooking herbs. Evil, right?

Herbal border coming soon!

Essentially, while Khari, Alaska Woman, has done a lot of the heavy work; there is still a lot to do. Shoveling. That curb side. It's solid weeds. Transplanting Persian Catnap there.

Khari built raised garden beds. Layered cardboard, branch, compost, manure, soil. One bed is almost completely finished. Another's halfway there. And the last needs shoveling. 

Me and my ghost wife (or spirit muse) decided that if we are taking time away from writing to be grunt labor, we are getting paid. In cooking herbs. We live in the kitchen. 

My new kitchen herb babies.

Of course, it was an odd trip. Khari's impatient. In a hurry to get there fast. Me, I have nowhere to go. "Who cares if there is an accident? You are off work. We are in the right lane to turn--just two blocks from our exit--and there is some good music on--relax."

When did I become that person? Oh, yeah, when I died and went to Hell. 

Of course, our timing was such that we ran into another DPS teacher at MacDonalds.

All the schools in the system were having problems with payroll. And no one seems to know why. Rack another win up for the Nameless Boss at top of the Admin structure that everyone in the the teacher union loves to hate. There is a lemon and pins with his name on them, just waiting for me to finish my little Justice 42 work. Yeah, he's next--Khari's annoyed with him; he cost us money (for fun, ask her how much of her raise she did not get--yeah, it's a fun conversation about "Indian giving" and not respecting unions).

Anyways, at one point in our day, we discussed my "Mormon Lent." I occasionally quit drinking soda because my Mormon daughter, and I might not be able to get into Mormon heaven to meet her in the afterlife, if I commit that sin. You laugh. Me and my dad--bad sugar addictions. I think that it's in the DNA. My Mormon wife used to give me a hard time about my "drinking problem." Sugar and cafferine. Give me a soda machine. Dope.

Khari thinks that I am nuts. I hope that if my Gwen, or her daughter, ever discover my life after I fled that last ministry station downtown that they understand. Hopefully.

Here is one last picture of the garden. These are the flowers that we got from Kathy Bruce. The ones that invaded the abandoned church up in the mountains. Holy Light. 

Twilight purple--the color of my yard, spring time.