Watch what you say, or maybe how you say it

I have a yard. Actually, I have 2 yards; a front one and a back one. If you want to count my side yard where the scary, 'alien pod' mushrooms grow, you could say I have 3 yards. Having 3 yards has re-emphasized 2 things about me I suspected were true. One is, I'm a weed magnet. Now there's animal magnetism, there are magnetic personalities, and chick magnets. I call cute little dogs chick magnets. None of those are bad things and one might be envious to have, or be, any of those. But being a weed magnet? What's to envy? The weeds apparently, based on their actions, love me and desire to be as close to me and in as large of numbers as possible. The only reason they don't live in the house with me is because they like soil and I only on the rare occasion have garden soil in the house. While in my esteemed status as 'weed magnet', I have come to realize I am also 'queen of procrastinating'. I hope no one embarrassed themselves by going too fast and misreading that. Which reminds me of something else. While working in the photo department at Longs I interacted with many different customers. One of our regulars was Mr Didlo. I hope you didn't mispronounce his name in your head. As I said, he was a regular customer and dropped off photos fairly frequently. For some reason, whenever he handed me his claim ticket to retrieve his photos, he would write his name on the claim ticket as opposed to saying it out loud as most customers did. I never got used to his name. EVERY TIME I read it either on his claim ticket or photo envelope, I pronounced it wrong in my head. I had to stop myself from saying, "Thank you Mr. Didlo" because I was absolutely petrified I would mispronounce his name. "Sir" became a more acceptable substitution. Why did I remember that story again? Must have been something I saw at the Pride Festival today that reminded me. Ok. I've digressed, but it's my blog so I can do that. Back to my yard story. As I told a friend of mine, my personal recipe for doing yardwork consists of 90% procrastinating and thinking about, talking about, and telling my friends I'm doing yardwork, and 10% actually doing it. And throw in a little beer to that mix for good measure. I consider this my slow, kind of crock-potty way, which takes longer, but in the end is worth it. It's not that I'm lazy. It's just that I'll find anything else to do before I start what I really need to be doing. For example, yesterday, I really needed to finish my landscape plan for the backyard and move some plants around in preparation for my sprinkler and sod installation. Since I really needed to work in the backyard, I ended up going to Summer Winds Nursery to purchase new plants for the planting beds next to my front walkway. In my mind, I justified this front yard work by telling myself I would transplant the walkway border plants I was replacing, to the backyard. This also ended up not happening because in my 'out with the old, in with the new' excitement, I wasn't as gentle as I could have been removing 'the old'. The nice man at the nursery who helped me recommended a pretty blue ground cover who's name he said he couldn't remember. His co-worker either couldn't remember either or didn't want to say because he just pointed and said, "They're over there". The nice nursery man led me to the pretty blue ground cover, pointing, and saying, "This is the one I was talking about". I immediately misread the tag, mispronouncing the name of the groundcover in my head and thought that maybe both nursery men were also unsure of how to pronounce it's name or were afraid they would mispronounce it as well. My new ground cover is Lobelia.