Feeling virtuous for having gotten up early to write and for following up my writing with a long overdue trek to Costco, I was planning on rewarding myself with some garden time this afternoon. My husband has spent the last two evenings digging a new flower bed and I thought I�d plant it so he didn�t think the back-breaking labor was in vain. However, just when I was about to head out the door, the crop dusting began. It is, I assume, the Gypsy moth spray, which is supposed to be totally harmless to humans. However, when I see helicopters skimming over my house spraying chemicals into the air, I assume that I will either have an asthma attack and die, or that I will find myself face down in a cornfield with Cary Grant. And while the latter might not be entirely unpleasant, the fact remains that Cary Grant is dead and gone, there is no corn in our backyard and in all likelihood, the best I could do would be to hurl myself into the pile of mud that is my new flowerbed. None of these options sounds particularly appealing, and so here I am, posting my second entry of the day. Click back for more adventures with AJ.

Over and out.

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