'Project-ing'

Mu, approving the one completed project--the sloping rock garden planted in pineapples, of course!

The accepted APA psych definition of projecting is something akin to 'the act of bestowing upon someone who is not you characteristics, traits, syndromes, phobias or obsessions that are actually yours.'   It is the adult version of the kids' taunt 'I am rubber, you are glue, what bounces off me...is surely your own paranoid outlook, colored with your predominant narcissistic tendencies.' 

OK, I'm paraphrasing. 

(It should be noted here that this concept is the basis for many marital arguments.)

My definition is very different, yet curiously related:

'Project-ing'- the tendency to plan many elaborate, epically-scaled projects with the absolute conviction that you will quickly complete every aspect of said plan in stellar fashion...despite the fact (obvious to all but the 'Project-or') you possess absolutely NONE of the requisite skill sets to even approach accomplishing same.

(And I should note here that this is the basis for HGTV.)

So...let me tell you about the exciting projects I have planned for the summer off-season!! (Because, as Charlie Brown faces a football-holding Lucy & opts to kick every time, I embrace the definition of insanity gleefully at this point every year.)

I have five big ones planned, averaging a manageable one per each ship-less month from early May through October. I have to confess that I originally jotted the notes for this post on 3/29/16, & since then I have actually crossed one of these off, having accomplished it as a step toward adding a biggie to the list. So here goes:  

1.  Studio rehab, including desk upgrade (Don't believe this one at all. I say this so often I don't even believe me.)

2.  Rock garden & natural stone steps in the back yard. This is the one I was able to check off, because I accidentally completed it while adding another huge one to the list--a 15'x15' gridded coral stone paver & grass patio...on a pretty steep slope...WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?  In my defense, I'm really pleased with the rock garden, probably because I didn't have to level anything...& because it was a great spot to plant more pineapples, one of my addictions. 

Also in the process of carting quarry dust down-slope to make a level (there's that foul word again) bed for the pavers, I unearthed some huge stones I'm currently using to extend the upper natural local stone patio I made a few years back. And then I'm cutting down a scrub tree, adding a bed of quarry dust & setting 2' square concrete pavers (that were in the yard under a clothesline I got rid of when I bought the house in 2008) in a shady spot above the upper patio to make a flat grilling area. On the slope curving behind the grilling pad, I'm adding some rock ledges & bromeliad babies from all over my yard. Oh, & I liked the paver retaining wall I built to retain the new patio so much that it also spawned a new project goal--raised planting beds for veggies & casual cutting flowers (sunflowers & zinnias). 

With all that, you see that 'accomplishing' a task is generally a beginning, never an ending in my manic process. 

3.   Touching up the sky-blue block wall at the back of my property & stencilling giant tropical leaves all over it.

4.  Slip covering my big red sectional sofa in stone-tone canvas (washed drop cloths that mimic Belgian linen...in low light...if you squint).

5. Kitchen facelift, including painting white all the dark wood accent cabinets that break up my funky, cozy little orange kitchen.  

NOTE:  That last one will almost surely cause me to start 'project-ing' plans for a new countertop NEXT summer. Stay tuned for before, after, & never gonna happen.

BOINGGGGGG!

Spring should come with a warning sign at my house today. "Pollinators may be closer than they appear." You take your life into your hands walking out my kitchen door. You could end up with a hummingbird up your nose, or maybe one of those big black fuzzy bees somewhere you'd rather not.  

On the porch, there is a Jets and Sharks-worthy war with a pair of young bananaquits manically nest shopping. They're fixated on the bamboo palm in the corner, seemingly oblivious to the conflict of Mu's fave nap spot being less than 2' away.  They eyeball her, dismiss her as a minor fuzzy distraction, & obsessively plunge back into the task at hand. At least no one has flown into the house to scout homesites yet, as happens every spring. 

The pair of young kestrels in my next door neighbor's Norfolk pine do all their 'he-ing & she-ing' in a ridiculously inconvenient spot atop the pointy & miserably uncomfortable-looking treetop.  Then again, I'm not a raptor & maybe that's a night at the Ritz for them. 

After the torrential (& WONDERFUL--the cistern overflow is trickling, making spring cleaning chores like washing upholstery, screens & windows much more likely--not a lock mind you, just a strong possibility) rain yesterday, the world is turning chartreuse again & there are buds wherever you look. The pineapples, no longer pining for rain, pomegranates shaking pompoms, and the African tulip managing to avoid a bad pun & is simply covered in waxy orange blooms.  

A note here regarding the Thunbergia vines, in ever-expanding, blob-style mounds around my house:  To the friends concerned I'll eventually be trapped inside by the aggressive vines, the tonnage of fat periwinkle blooms is absolutely worth it, so...respectfully...put away your machete & back away slowly & no one will get hurt. 

We don't have a ship until Monday, & though I'm making stock & filling an order, I can feel the 'factory' (me, Mu, a hammer, an anvil & a Joan Crawford movie) starting to step down activities in anticipation of the long, ship-less & hopefully hurricane-less summer. My eleven giant pots full of Seaglass start nagging for contents to be sorted by shade & shape.  I start abandoning black & white movies & move to the technicolor surroundings of the orchidy porch in front (where I am now) or umbrella tables in back for my studio. By the end of this week the shallows of West End beaches will require my presence, promising glass to fill a twelfth pot.  

And the long list of projects I've planned for the off-season will start shimmering on the horizon, a mirage of the absolutely possible, though improbable summer ahead.