My Garden and such

At Last! An Actual Post!

2010-03-26T08:09:00.000-07:00

Ah, the joys of having something constructive to write about, for a change! The garden, which has been beckoning to me since late last month, has now increased its beckon from a gentle song to howl not unlike that of a banshee. "Plant something!" it screams, and even though I know I'm taking a risk to plant so early in Kansas (we've been known to get frosts in late April), I cannot deny this mad desire to get dirt under my fingernails any longer! So, this weekend, the game is afoot!

Well, at least the potatoes will be afoot. Yesterday, the Wonder Hubby actually took a day off from work, and after I had sufficiently recovered from the shock, we went to Lowe's to see if they had anything to plant yet. Now, I prefer to get my seeds and such from Hillside Feed and Seed, but I really haven't been at my best since Chaz and Loki passed, and Lowe's is much closer to us than Hillside. Going there was really kind of a whim, I didn't expect to find much in the way of vegetables to plant; it's just too early yet.

I think I mentioned that we covered over the area next to the house that served as our herb bed, didn't I? The previous owner of our house had planted ornamental grass on the southeast corner of that bed about 20 years ago, and no matter how hard we tried, that damned grass kept slowly but surely sneaking its way north until last year, when it finally completed its insidious mission and conquered the herbs and the bed. Can you say, "Aaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!" (I knew you could.) Now I hate ornamental grass with a deep and complete purple passion. There's just no way to dig it all out--it must be a close cousin of crabgrass or something....like mold, maybe. Or maybe the Tea Party (I'm just saying....) And I didn't want to use an herbicide in that area because...Hello! I want to grow stuff here! Besides, as I've said in the past, I'm trying to be as organic as possible in my gardening experiments. So, last year, we didn't plant any herbs in the bed; in fact, we dug what few were left up (and did that ever hurt! My sage and rosemary plants were 15 years old--ouch!-- and I had no where to re-plant them!) Last fall, we covered the bed with black plastic, which we will keep in place all year this year, and hopefully, hopefully! -- we will have burned the ornamental crap out with the assistance of the gentle Kansas sun (snork!). Next year, assuming all goes well, we will re-design and re-plant the bed, after adding new soil and compost, of course. Wish us luck!

However, that leaves me without an herb garden, and being the Kitchen Witch that I am, that's not an optimal circumstance. Now I do have a big tub that I grew parsley, basil and oregano in last year. However, while at Lowe's, we found this cute little urn that looks like a strawberry pot, only its set up with herb seeds: parsley, basil, oregano, cilantro and chives. So, I think I'll plant that tomorrow (and take pictures!), and I'll wait and start a sage or two and rosemary in the big pot next month. That way, they can be transferred to the herb garden next year (assuming the black plastic does its grass-zapping thing), and I'll use the big pot for something else. Don't ask me what yet, you know I don't plan ahead that much! I've got some other unused pots around the house, maybe I'll just plant a bunch of them up with perennial herbs this year so that they can be the base of my permanent herb bed next year. We'll have to see how far the energy meter goes in the next couple of weeks.

To get back to potatoes (you thought I forgot, didn't you? Eh? Eh?), while at Lowe's yesterday, we found what looks like a mini orchard basket full of packest of seed potatoes -- Freedom russets, Superior whites, and red Norlands. I tried to find sweet potatoes, too, but no such luck! There's quite a number of seed potatoes in this basket, I don't think I'll have enough room in the garden to plant them all...unless I get really creative (hey, those frames we used for cold frames two winters ago are just stacked there by the shed, taking up space. I wonder.....) I'm hoping the Wonder Hubby will have some energy to help me plant the spuds Sunday; tomorrow, it's supposed to rain. (Of course! After all, we got the garden tilled weekend before last, and then it snowed! And froze! And then, just for good measure, it rained!)

AND I'm deciding what greens I want to plant this year in the cool weather, which I have to get into the ground before the April monsoon season -- those will simply have to come from Hillside Feed and Seed, their selection of seeds is quite amazing, and last year's quality was almost too good to be true. Some 3 or 4 lettuces, I think; baby carrots--of course! I'll need spinach again, oh and that wonderful mix of salad greens that they carry...... Oh, it feels so good to be planning and planting again! Maybe now my health will improve and I can give the doldrums the slip for once, and for all!

Goodbye, My Little Buddy

2010-01-16T18:33:00.000-08:00

Goodbye, Chaz. You were the best kind of best friend. You never judged, you never rebuked. You responded to love with love. When I got sick again, you stayed by my side; when I was sad, you were right there with me.

A lot of people go through Life never knowing what joy can be derived from rescuing a four-legged soul, and giving them every bit of Love they give you. I've had the pleasure of knowing a lot of dogs in my life, but I never knew a better one.

Rest in Peace, Little Guy. Go find Pyewacket and Logan, they'll show you around. Oh, and if you run into a hairy old Satyr who answers to the name of Ternon, you can go ahead and let him give you a scritch. I promise you that he'll know all about that spot behind your ear, the one that made your leg twitch. I love you, and I already miss you.

Why is it that your Heart leaks through your eyes?

Birthdays and Bodies

2010-01-13T11:17:00.000-08:00

So, Monday was my 52nd birthday. Wow. I'm twelve years older than John Lennon was when he died. I'm a year older than Joe Strummer was when he died. I'm nearly twice the age of Janis, Jimi, and Jim. And ever so much older than many other celebrities when they died. My conclusion? Celebrity is bad for your health.

One gift I give myself year around birthday time is my yearly pelvic exam. I know all you ladies out there are thinking "WHAT? What kind of crap-ass gift is THAT?" but I consider uterine health very much a gift, so there. No reason to die from stupid shit, right? And since I've written about the Scoot test before (see here), I'm not going to go into the where's and why's, I'm going to talk about something else that is, frankly, starting to scare the hell out of me, and you can go read about Scooting whenever you want to, it's fine with me.

Let me start out by saying I felt fine. My head was clear, my spirits were good (I like my doctor) and I had gotten so many birthday wishes on Facebook that I was feeling both overwhelmed and truly loved--seriously, right then, I wouldn't have been surprised to discover that I actually do bleed purple and gold (Thank You again, Calontir!). In short - no stress here. So you can imagine my shock and surprise when the nurse blew up my arm, and then announced that my blood pressure was 250/136. WHAT? I was so flabberghasted that it didn't even occur to me that I should be having a stroke right then, not laughing and talking with The Wonder Hubby and before-mentioned RN. I felt fine. I wasn't unduly stressed. Okay, granted, The Wonder Hubby and I did have to take Kellogg Avenue to the doctor's office, which is the Road to Hell here in Doo-dah, but it wasn't that bad! WTF?

The doctor gave me medication. We waited 15 minutes, checked again: No real improvement. She gave me another pill. We waited another 15 minutes and I started utilizing some serious meditation techniques because she was threatening to send me to the hospital, which is no place to celebrate your birthday, believe you me. (Especially since I tend to have some rather otherworldly experiences in those places just when I'm visiting someone, much less staying overnight!) My bp finally went down to about 185/99 and she (very reluctantly) let me come home (well, actually, we went to parents' for a birthday dinner and had a great time -- laughed our butts off at each other for no real reasons. You know, the best kind of get-together). So now I'm on 230 mg. of Diovan a day, I'm taking my bp every two hours, and emailing my doctor with the results every day. This is Wednesday, I still can't get the diastolic below 90 - anyone want to take bets on me seeing her again this week? Anyone wanna take bets on me avoiding a hospital stay? Anyone? No? Spoilsports.

I'd be less flip about this if I wasn't pretty sure that it will go back down to my usual 120/70 here in a couple of weeks. And the reason why I am pretty sure about this is because this has happened to me twice before. The first time was about 3 years ago, when my fibro flared back up. And granted, I wasn't in the best of shape, I weighed about 20 lbs more than I do now, and I hurt more. The medical profession, in its infinite desire to buy yachts and further pad their retirement accounts, really ran me through the ringer that time: They performed every test on me that they could think of. I even ended up getting a heart catherization, although the arterial tests didn't reveal any need for it. The result? I woke up in an extremely cold surgical room with the doctor leaning over me to tell me that I have the arteries of a twelve year old. I also had a fresh new scar, was hurting so much from the cold of that room that I was actually crying, and my insurance company had to pay out a LOT of money. (Funny bit: the nurses were so concerned about me crying [I actually don't remember doing that. I'm a bigtime crier, but not over pain. I'm used to that.], that they actually went out and told Lachlan what I was doing because apparently, I was crying so hard I couldn't tell them why I was crying. He took one look at the sweaters the two nurses were wearing and asked, "What's the temp in that room?" "About 50 degrees," they answered. "That's why she's crying," he said. "She's wearing a paper towel in 50 degree weather. Cold hurts, you know." He went on, "You do have degrees in biology, right?" he asked them. They walked away without answering.)

The second time this happened was last April: I did three weeks of bp meds and ended up with a dangerously low pressure (about 80/55. I didn't know the Sphyg went that low), so she took me back off them. But now, it's back again. That's a bit worrisome. She told me not to stress about it, which is a little like saying "Don't imagine an elephant in a pink tutu". (Just try! Right now, as you're reading this, your mind is supplying you with a picture of an elephant in a pink tutu, isn't it? Somewhat Disneyesque no doubt. I'm right, aren't I? Huh? Huh? I told you so!)

So, I'm taking more pills, tracking my bp, bored out of frakking mind because I'm supposed to take it even easier than I normally do and I'm digging out my college textbooks on Human Physiology because research is what I'm good at, and I have to solve this problem! No way I'm dying before the age of 90, no frakking way!

Besides, I'm not a celebrity. Yet.

:-)

Resolutions

2010-01-04T12:29:00.000-08:00

If I write them down, I have to stick to them, right?

1. Write more! More blogging, more fiction, more articles for local SCA newsletter, more, more, more! Get published! If Stephanie Meyers can, why can't I?

2. Carry around a notebook with me at events. People come to me a lot for help, and I don't always remember to provide it the first time I'm asked. This has got to stop! If people are going to treat me with that much trust, I must act more worth of it.

3. The perennial: Exercise. When I was a kid, a doctor told me that I would spend my elderly years in a wheelchair; and since I hated him so much, I simply cannot allow his prophecy to come true.

4. Get my vegetable garden planned out before we start planting. I'm far too interested in this now to just stick things wherever there's a space. I must have a little more method to my madness.

5. Have some more fun. I'm in the house too much alone. Maybe if I save up my pennies for a Wii, I can combine this resolution with #3.

6. Last, but not least (not by any stretch!): Stay in closer contact with friends and family. They're not going to hang around for me, I need to expend more energy in this endeavor!

Wish me luck!

I Can Haz Washer?

2009-11-18T06:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know I said I'd be talking about the garden more often, but I have to share about the brand new washer, because washers are among the Greatest Inventions of All Times, right up there with dryers, and I must, simply must, share the awesomeness! (Of course, we all know that The Very Greatest Invention of All Time hasn't been invented yet--that will be The Laundry Folder and Put-Awayer. I expect some woman scientist to apply for that patent any day. And we know that it will be a woman scientist, because we all know that men can, and do store their clean clothes in the dryer. Just as we know that a man's inventory of clean clothes consists of 2 pairs of briefs, 7 socks, a football jersey, and 3 t-shirts manufactured in the '80's and still perfectly fine to wear on a date, to a movie, or an afternoon wedding. Men will also own 8 pairs of Levi's, but those don't necessarily have to be washed; right, Guys?)

So, anyway, just after the passing of Grandma Mabel, the Wonder Hubby and I were doing all the things necessary around the house: Cleaning, vacuuming, dusting (well, I dusted. Men don't dust--just ask Lachlan) and doing laundry. I must state for the record that the Wonder Hubby is very good about doing laundry and his inventory of clean clothes is much larger than the average man's (he had 5 shirts from the '80's when I met him, for example.) He is also a Champion Laundry Sorter. I know, I'm spoiled! He's great about washing clothes.......a little lacking in the "Drying and Hanging Up Clothes" category; downright horrible at the "Putting Clothes Away" category (but then, so am I); but washing clothes? The man has no peer. Which is precisely what he was doing the day after we heard of his grandmother's passing.

I have this odd quirk that I will candidly admit I blame entirely on my mother: I can spend days around my house when it is absolutely unfit for human habitation, but the very second I hear that we are traveling out of town, I will launch myself into a cleaning frenzy, forcing the other inhabitants (including the cats) to help me, literally wearing me and them out, making said travel nearly impossible to perform--all because I simply cannot stand coming home to a dirty house. And the reason I blame my mother is because I know for a fact that neither she nor my dad nor my brother read my blogs and I can get away with it.

So, we were in just such a cleaning frenzy; the Wonder Hubby volunteered to do laundry, probably in self-defense--he says I get a wild gleam in my eye when I have a Swiffer duster in my hands. Apparently, when I am possessed by this frenzy, a strategic withdrawal to the laundry room is the safest plan for the male of the species. Particularly (and remember: I have no memory of these incidents) after I have made the loud, yet inevitable (according to him) announcement that "This Place is a Hole That Should Be Condemned by the Board of Health!" According to the Great Love of My Life, Patton would have retreated after such a pronouncement.

Now, we knew that our old washer was on its last legs and I really need to find the place to lodge a complaint because, I mean, really--after only 16 years of almost daily usage, this POS was giving out? WTH? It's not like we ever planned on buying another one--you don't buy house after house after house, do you? (Seriously, do you? Because I want to know why you would do that....) Lachlan loaded up the old washer with whites, and then stepped out into the garage. He said he was taking a quick smoke break, but I did still have the Swiffer in my hands, so......I'm not saying it was an escape attempt, I'm merely stating that the facts do not rule that scenario out.

Anyway, I heard a weird noise. A sort of sloshy, sudsy kind of noise. A water-running sloshy, sudsy kind of noise. And I smelled the unmistakable odor of too much Tide detergent in the atmosphere. This seemed....odd to me. Unusual, even. So, although I hadn't finished dusting the living room into submission, my spider senses were tingling at such an alarming rate that I decided to stop right then and investigate.

Have I ever mentioned that I am one of those nutjobs that are fascinated by the story of the R.M.S Titanic? The reason I tell you this right here and now is because it will help you to understand why I, after finding the amazing amount of water that had been disgorged by the washer onto the laundry room floor, couldn't keep myself from glimpsing quickly at the laundry room's window to see if an iceberg wasn't sailing by. And, since I have been conditioned from birth to yell at the top of my lungs for the nearest male at the advent of such catastrophes, Lachlan became aware of the situation almost immediately after I did. In a daring feat of swashbuckling bravado, he somehow ran back into the house from the garage, instantly assessed the situation and, in the very best John McClain style, leaped across the ocean of water and made a perfect landing on the washer's lid, pushing the "stop" button with his left pinky toe--all in the space of about 3.5 seconds. (I admit I might be exaggerating this performance a tiny bit....) We looked at each other across the new expanse of Lake Brown more than a little dismayed. The timing of this calamity couldn't have been worse, but Thank God! the derring-do of the Wonder Hubby had at least saved the rest of the house for Democracy.

I must also state for the record that this was not the best time to discover that the sponge mop had somehow adhered itself to the laundry room floor. And here's a tip for all you readers: Wet towels do not sop up vast amounts of sudsy, dirty water. However, we endeavored to persevere, and with the (unwanted) help of the dogs' tongues, we managed to both get the water sopped up and cure that constipation problem our trusty canines were suffering from. The steely gaze of the Wonder Hubby quickly spotted the problem: The washer hadn't been sideswiped by an iceberg venturing too far south (and inland, for that matter), it had developed a split in the wall of the tub. A very non-fixable split, I might add. So we had to face the awfulness of Major Appliance Shopping immediately. No prep time, no brochures from Homeland Security to help us deal with such an event, not even an instructional video. Crap. I didn't even have a lifebelt on.

Can I say right now, with no fear of any kind of monetary compensation whatsoever, that I am quite enamored of Lowes? First of all, one of their stores is conveniently located within 5 miles of my house. Secondly, they sell washers--good washers. Third, they had one in stock--not one of those that looks like something out of Star Trek, and available for the low, low price equivalent to the building cost of the Starship Enterprise (they have those, I just knew I couldn't blow that kind of money on one.......unless, of course, they'd had one with that "Folding and Putting Away" feature....). No, they had a nice, solid-looking, dependable-looking, top-loading model made by GE that didn't completely blow the budget (we still had 37 cents left), and that Consumer Reports rated as "Probably Not Created by the Anti-Christ to Shred Your Electric Bill". Finally, Lowes delivers washers to your house and hooks it up to your crappy plumbing AND hauls the old one away for free. Which is a wonderful thing when you realize how difficult it is to load one into a Pontiac Bonneville.

So I now possess a very nice, amazingly quiet, new washer; and I can live free from fear of getting any Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day or Mother's Day gifts for the next five years. Totally worth it, in my estimation.

Besides, the 16 year old dryer has developed the most alarming cough....I'd better contact Homeland Security.

Garden 2009 Review

2009-11-11T10:53:00.000-08:00

Hey, how about I take a break from my compulsive over-sharing concerning funerals and my ill attempts attending them to actual talk about my garden? You know, the thing I'm supposed to be writing about? Wouldn't that be a far more enlightening experience for the reader? Yeah, I think so, too.

All in all, I'd have to give this year's garden a B+. We did a lot of experimenting this year--eggplant, strawberries, melons, potatoes and sweet potatoes--and had some very mixed results. The eggplants were amazing, and we have happily added them to our repertoire of cookable goodness (I am now a member in good standing in the Eggplant Parmigiana Club!); we'll have to wait until next year to see results from the strawberries, but the plants themselves grew like mad, so all is hopeful there. I'd always heard that the ground over here on the east side of town had far too much clay in it to allow melons to grow, but we had very good luck with them, and their sweet flavor was every bit as good as anything you'd buy at the grocery store. I want to find a better way to contain the vines--Ha! A research project for this winter! (As if I don't already have about a dozen of those......oh well.)

Our potatoes did terribly. I don't think we got them in the ground early enough, and I don't think we had the bed properly prepared for them. Who would have thought that a potato of all things would be the pickiest plant in the garden? Our sweet potatoes were in the same shape bed-wise, but for a first-time crop, I think they did amazing:

Even as I am typing this, they are currently wrapped up in newspaper and waiting patiently for Thanksgiving on a shelf in one of our cooler storage closets. I am so looking forward to cooking these puppies up!

Now, next year, I think we should separate a section of the garden off for potatoes; dig it out nice and deep, maybe add some more nitrogen to the soil (probably test the soil first, right?) and see if we can't do a little better.

And no one can complain about the performances of our Hall of Fame veggies: The tomatoes, green peppers and cucumbers. I got four batches of tomato sauce out of the garden this year, that's 24 qts. of sauce that we didn't need to buy at the store. And I would've gotten a batch of salsa and/or dices tomatoes if I hadn't spent the month of September in such a bad way. You would think that we'd be set for the Winter when it comes to tomato sauce, wouldn't you? Well, obviously you don't know the Wonder Hubby. Given half a chance, the man would slather chicken and dumplings with homemade tomato sauce. I am on constant vigilance to keep him out of the stuff! ("Lachlan, you don't need tomato sauce for that!" "But, Honey, it'll add a great flavor!" "Not to Fruity Pebbles, it won't!" "Ahhhh-hhh...."

So next year, I am pondering just how to make everything I want to try fit into the garden. And to think, when I started the garden last year, I was afraid I wouldn't have enough stuff to go in it! I want to try all these plants again, I want to plant the so-called "cool weather" plants in the early Spring again. We'll be getting the cold frames out again this year (hopefully this weekend!) and filling them with those wonderful lettuces and greens that graced our February suppers this year. There is something about growing your own greens in the Winter that just makes the season seem less bleak. Knowing that if you want, you can take your scissors and go cut fresh spinach to add to your meal makes the overall bleakness bearable!

Oh, and remember our feral cherry tomato plant, the one that just popped up in one of cold frames uninvited? It did so well--it literally bombarded us with cherry tomatoes!--that I've got this crazy idea about taking one of the frames and trying to grow my tomato and pepper plants for next year's garden from seeds. How off-the-hook is that? (Okay, I know that as far as wild, uncontrollable behavior goes, this idea rates about -14 on a scale of 1 to 10. Indulge me, will you? I don't get out much!)

So, while I'm cleaning out my kitchen shelves the rest of the day, I'm going to be dreaming of next year's garden. Tomorrow I'll tell you about how we put the garden to rest this year, changes we're planning on making, the many improvements on our "Wish List". You could either come back and read my musings, or you could get ambitious and clean out your own shelves......

I take it we have a date?

Grandma's Funeral or "Laughs Pop Up in the Oddest Places"

2009-11-09T20:42:00.000-08:00

This is the final installment of this series, I'd like to thank all of those who have been playing along at home. Please remember that I, in no way intend any disrespect, and forgive me if my humor falls flat. Okay, once more, here we go:

So, Halloween morning we found ourselves getting up at Obscene o'Clock to make the pilgrimage southward to Lachlan's birthplace; this being the chosen site for Grandma Mabel's memorial. It is a tiny little town, I'll bet the population stands significantly under a thousand people. It's just another one of those little towns that pepper the Heartland, slowly dying away due to its lack of industry. Which is a shame because it's really quite a lovely little town. I actually quite like it, but Lachlan has a lot of bad memories associated with the place, so we just don't go there. As a matter of fact, the last time we'd been there was for the celebration of Grandma Mabel's 80th birthday, 15 years ago!

Lachlan's mom wanted us there by noon because that was the time that the Baptist Church down there was putting on a lunch for the family. Needless to say, we had to scurry our little butts on the road. After a brief but significant panic (we'd discovered we'd had a pair of Seamus's slacks dry cleaned, not the Wonder Hubby's. Gleek! That won't work! ), Lachlan discovered another pair of dark gray slacks in the innermost depths of one of our storage closets. Quick check of the tag--yup! They're his! AND, they're clean! We're saved! (Thank you, oh God of Tiny Wonders!) Let's go!

We had a cooler in the back seat, filled with snacky goodnesses, we had our good clothes hanging up back there as well (No way I was traveling six hours in a dress and pantyhose. No way!), we hit the road, and had a really nice trip down there. Except for the perpetual roadwork (do you ever think that this will be a pretty nice country if they ever get it done?), the driving was smooth, the weather was good and the company was perfect. The Wonder Hubby had been working eternal overtime prior to this little jaunt (ever since June, really), and since we both reallyreally like being together, we were in good spirits. Having such a good time, in fact, that I almost felt a little guilty about it--I mean, really, are you supposed to enjoy the trip to a funeral? Doesn't that get you in the 1/2 level of Hell or something--or maybe Cloud 13? Well, we'll worry about that later. We deftly made our way around Oklahoma City--no one in their right mind would go through Oklahoma City; besides, the last time we did that, we'd driven through a tornado which is in itself another story for another time. Then traveling southwest for another hour or so, we made it to the magnificent metropolis of the Wonder Hubby's birth. Okay, Step One--done!

Finding the church was no problem for a guy who'd spent every Sunday and Wednesday night of his first eighteen years on the planet there, believe me. We stopped and parked in front of the church's gymnasium that they'd built in the past few years, and coincidentally, the site of the family luncheon. (Yeah, figure that one out: The town itself is dying by slow, excruciating inches, yet the Baptist Church can afford to build an education annex complete with gymnasium. If that doesn't scream "Small Southern town", what does?) Taking a deep breath, we initiated Step Two: Presentation of Selves to Family/Community.

In spite of the fact that neither one of us had a chance to change into proper clothing, my mother-in-law insisted on presenting us to each and every individual that was at the luncheon, including the Church ladies who were supplying the lunch. Thanks!! I didn't even have any makeup on, I had jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and black tennies; Lachlan, jeans and a T; but, nevermind, we must be paraded before the masses for inspection. *le sigh* Finally, after meeting people I will undoubtedly never, ever see again, instantly forgetting their names, managing a quick squeeze for the Wonder Hubby's brother and sister-in-law, we got to sit down and eat. Noms!! One thing I'll say about Southern Church Ladies: They can coo-oo-ookk!!! And this was just good old-fashioned comfort/funeral food, too! Y'all with those roots know what I'm talking about, right?--there was even deviled eggs and that homemade chocolate cake that no mix can ever replicate.

Okay, managed to get through lunch without dropping anything, hitting anyone with the flak, or making an utter fool of myself. Good! Found a place to change clothes, put on makeup--damn! No full length mirror. Have to rely on the Wonder Hubby. Out the women's bathroom door to find the spouse, who, of course, looks awesomely handsome in sports coat, slacks and dress shirt (You sure do clean up good, Honey!). Got his assurances on my respectability, time to head across the street to the funeral home. Step Three--here we come.

The Funeral itself: Small storefront-converted-to-Funeral-Home (the last time we'd been there, it had been a Woodwards.....which is yet another story for another time), it was crowded with a whole bunch more people I didn't know. The mother-in-law promptly starts introducing yet more people I will never see again and providing more promptly-forgotten names while simultaneously handing each of us a copy of the little program they always hand out at these things. We managed to look around a bit, noticed that our favorite photo of Grandma Mabel was the primary portrait on display, to both our pleasure. They were also displaying one of her many wondrous quilts as well. Grandma was an incredibly talented lady: She could sew, crochet, quilt, she cast and paint ceramics--envy!! Then, Lachlan's stepdad asks, "Do you want to go and view the body?"

Erm, no, actually. I hate that part. That is not the way I want to remember someone........but social customs prevail, don't they? So, we duly trudged into another room with pews, a small podium and the casket containing Grandma. Only it wasn't Grandma, not really. I saw a very tiny little figure laying in a casket that seemed about two sizes too big for it, but whatever it was that made Grandma Mabel the woman she was, wasn't there. On the wall behind the casket was a flat-screen TV that had some sort of slide show going on. It looked like a montage of photos taken during Grandma Mabel's life--with a preponderance of pictures of my mother-in-law in the various stages of her life. Hmmm, wonder who put that together? ( I think I saw one picture of Lachlan's uncle and family.) Seemed a bit odd to me, but okay, whatever. Then, and don't expect me to understand this because I don't have a clue why they did it this way, everyone had to leave the room with the pews and the slide show and the casket so that the funeral home's employees could close the casket. Two minutes after being shooed out, we were told it was time for the service, so we all trudged back in. Weird.

Now, this next bit is going to sound a little off-course, but bear with me, okay? The name on my birth certificate reads "Lisa Renee", which doesn't matter a tinker's damn because no one ever calls me by that name. Seriously. When I was growing up, my parents called me "Sis", or "Sister", or "Tex" (another one of those different stories for a different time.) My brother called me "Sissy". Even my friends in junior high and high school used to call me "L". Only those with whom I have a somewhat formal relationship with, i.e, teachers, doctors, professors, law enforcement (oops), have ever called me "Lisa". This puzzled me for many years and I couldn't figure out why this was so. Finally, though, I think I got it: You see, Lisa Renee is a French name, and if you look at me or any of my pictures, you realize that I am the most Irish-looking Frenchwoman on the planet. Let's face it, I'm misnamed. Just like the shrew named Harmony, or the 250-lb. dude named Shirley, my name doesn't fit me. My dad used to tell me that he'd named me for two Hong Kong prostitutes he'd met after the Korean War (which would send my mother flying for the White Out and my birth certificate every single time!), but no, he actually named me for the two daughters of a North Dakotan rancher he'd worked for as a teenager. There are a lot of people of French descent up there, for some reason; to my knowledge, there isn't one ounce of French blood in me.

The reason I bring this up now, is because when the local Baptist preacher got up to memorialize Grandma Mabel, he, at one point, listed her many survivors. "She is survived by her son, H" he intoned in a voice that only a Southern preacher has, and went on to list Lachlan's Uncle's sons, daughter, and in-laws. "And her daughter, J" he said, "and son-in-law, C; as well as her grandsons, D and Lila Brown, and D and M Brown."

See? I AM misnamed! It's official. Lila. Makes you think of some blue-haired older woman wearing cat's eye eyeglasses with the rhinestones in the corners, doesn't it? You know, the woman who smokes her cigarettes on a very long cigarette holder and has a voice reminiscent of Harvey Firestein's? Perfect. Now, remember that bit I talked about yesterday? How I'm known for giggling inappropriately at funerals? You guessed it, Lachlan and I were cracking up.

But silently, oh so silently.

We couldn't look at each other for fear of losing it. I looked at the ceiling, the newly-closed casket, the now-blank flat screen tv--anything but my wonderful hubby. And he did the same. And just when we were starting to regain some semblance of control and sense of propriety, the preacher announce that C's niece would now get up and sing a medley of Grandma's favorite Christian hymns. At which, a rather buxom, dyed-red haired woman about my age got up and went to the podium. Someone in the back of the room cranked up the karaoke machine (or whatever it was that played the canned music), and she took a deep breath and proceeded to regale us with her um, vocal abilities.

Now, I'm sure that, in her prime, this lady could sing like a nightingale. I'm sure that she not only could sing like there was no tomorrow, but that the mere sound of her voice was enough to stop fights, make the World turn a little easier, even cure influenza. But that was then, the Present is a whole 'nother Story. I honestly didn't know that there was a key of H. I really didn't. Nor did I know that the human voice was capable of hitting it, but by Golly, this woman managed it. Some of the notes she hit were so sour that the flowery tributes displayed tastefully around the casket actually cringed. A quick glance upward confirmed for me that those notes were, indeed, getting stuck in the ceiling's insulation, where they would fester away and rot the roof over the winter. So much for looking at my husband: We both were struggling valiantly to keep our bodies perfectly still and our faces utterly emotionless. And the worst part was that I was sitting right next to my father-in-law who was proudly beaming at his niece the whole time. No relief there! Oh, Gods help me or the whole church was going to meet us as left the building to teach us the proper manners!!

And the Gods, being kind, did help us. But the Gods, being perverse, did in a very roundabout way. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't listening to the preacher much, but I couldn't help but notice that after the singing, my husband has quickly turned from being amused to agitated. I shot a quick glance at him, he had that Look. You know, That Look. The one that says "Manslaughter is a Sentence I can Live with". I was, needless to say, surprised. What was up with that? Tuning into the preacher, I quickly realized that instead of lauding the accomplishments of this wonderful little woman, instead of celebrating her life with the proper tribute, he had instead taken the opportunity to throw in a lengthy infomercial for Jesus Christ. Instead of honoring Grandma Mabel, he was inviting everyone there to take this very moment and right here, right now, accept Jesus as your Personal Savior. Why do they always do that? Don't they realize what they're doing? I mean, if I cared to do so, couldn't it wait until after the funeral? Really? I think Jesus could hold on until then, I really do. Do they know I'm there? Is that it? Would they skip that part if I wasn't there, because believe me, I'll absent myself from the situation if it will spare everyone else from hearing that again. Happily.

Fortunately, the sermon didn't last long. The graveside service was even shorter, and unlike what you would experience at a funeral with my family, there were no dramatics. We made it through. We said goodbye. I finally got to see where Lachlan's father was buried, and I was happy to see that he's right next to Grandma and Grandpa because he wasn't from around there originally, and I was a little afraid that he'd been buried amongst strangers. We even saw that one set of Lachlan's great-grandparents were interred nearby. A family plot. That's cool and oddly comforting.

We lingered in town for as little a time that could be considered polite. Then we changed back into ourselves, jumped in the car and headed home. We got back long after the trick-or-treaters were done--realized that we had way too much Halloween candy left over--decided to worry about it later, and hit the bed. We were both beat, but feeling pretty good about it. Success!

Sunday afternoon, while regaling son Seamus with the details of the whole funeral experience, the Wonder Hubby handed me one of those little funeral programs. Silently, he pointed to the back page where there was a little essay on Mabel's life and family. And there, in the list of her survivors, I could clearly read that among them were her "Grandson, D, and wife, Lila Brown".

Priceless.

Prelude to Grandma's Funeral, part 3

2009-11-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

I really must apologize for the length of today's post. Hopefully, you will find at least a bit amusing, and it will explain the events in tomorrow's post, which--I promise!--will be about Grandma's funeral.

I don't like funerals and I don't know anyone who does. (The Irish had the right idea: Party first, then lament. I hope that when I shuffle off this mortal coil, my family and friends rent out the new Intrust Stadium we've just built here in Wichita to throw the biggest party this town has ever seen (Why not? We don't have any sort of team to stuff in it!). I mean it! I want everyone to tell stories about me, drink to my memory, laugh a lot, cry only from said laughing, and just generally have a good time. No lamenting, please.) Now, since I don't like funerals, I have a hard time with them. If the person who's parting we're lamenting passed away under the age of umm, let's say 80, I have a tendency to cry my eyes out. To me, dying before 80 means that a person didn't get their fair share of Life--which is truly tragic, and I can't help but react emotionally to it. Combine said passing away with a tragic accident or mishap, and I'm doubly emotional. I don't know why I bother to put on makeup to go to such an event, 'cause it ain't staying on my face, it ends up all over the tissue I'm gripping in my grubby fist.

But then again, I come from a family that can really work itself up for a funeral. Doesn't matter how old the decedent is, someone in my family is going to wail loudly; someone is going to faint; someone may take it into their head to jump into the hole to join the dearly departed. One of the few joys about attending one of my family's funerals is that you get quite a show. Seriously, the funeral parlor could make quite a few more bucks if they sold popcorn. What can I say? It's a Southern family. Plus, since it's a Southern family, you get the double pleasure of hearing the snarky remarks the women of the family make about each other.

Case in point: My grandfather's funeral. My Aunt L was my father's half sister, a product of my grandfather's first marriage. She was not fond of my grandfather. Yet, at the graveside service, Aunt L proceeded to succumb to such grief that--you guessed it--she fainted away into her husband's arms. He swooped her up in the very best "Gone With the Wind" fashion and hurried away with her. My cousin, Gertie, observed all this, and muttered "That was a good one! But then, she's had all week to practice...." and I had to hide my face in my hands.

Which was the second time that funeral that I'd had to hide my face and try to smother laughter. See, the second thing about me and funerals is that, if the decedent is past the age of 80 and/or their passing isn't unexpected, I can't get too worked up about it. I may get a little sad, but usually I'm happy that they had their shot at Life and got to leave after much hard work. I will attend the funeral, I will strive to attain the proper state of sobriety, but don't expect me to faint or provide much of a sideshow......

EXCEPT: I have another, far more sinister trait that manifests during funerals in this category: At some point, no matter how somber the service, I will get the giggles. It's inevitable. Sure as the Creator made little green apples, I will lose it. I can no more stop this than I can break the breathing habit. I've tried. The best I can do is camouflage my perversity with the aforementioned tissue. (Oh, and just so you know, if you're ever in a situation where you have to stuff tissue in your mouth to choke back laughter, it takes about three to get the job done. Just a word of advice from your Auntie Wela!)

So, back to my grandfather's funeral: The memorial service itself was held in a little church in Hamilton, Kansas, which is where my grandparents spent a lot of their lives, particularly the last 20 years or so. I was sitting in the pew next to my cousin Larry, which is a dangerous thing to do these days, and which could have been lethal back then, because Larry is one funny human being and back then, he had zero restraint. The guy gets up to deliver the requiem (my mom says it was the funeral director; I swear he introduced himself as "Reverend Whatever" but that's not really important). He starts out by thanking us all for attending (this was back in 1982, and I bet there was a hundred people there--all but about three, family), then he says that while he didn't know my grandfather personally, he was happy to have an opportunity to speak about him.

Huh-oh, said a little voice in my head. My ears cranked up a notch. My grandfather was not an easy person to know. He was a walking contradiction--the epitome of an Irishman. He was funny and jovial, yet a surly drunk. He was great to grandchildren, if a little abusive (ever had a "dutch rub"?), yet beat his wife and children. He'd give you the shirt off his back, yet he'd drink and gamble away a paycheck, rather than feed his family. He would cry out in pain in his sleep (his back had been broken), but never make a peep about it when he was awake. The older he got, the meaner he got. He loved animals, but he shot a neighbor's dog when it wouldn't stay out of Grandma's veggie garden. (He was also about 100 lbs. soaking wet and bent over; when the big, beefy neighbor came over to threaten his life about the loss of the dog, my grandfather cocked his head to one side so he could look up and up at him, and said calmly "That's alright. I've got more shells for my shotgun.") He was in many ways a very tough, very mean man.

So when Reverend Whosit starts talking about this saintly, elderly gentleman who was the epitome of kindness and neighborliness, my cousin leaned over to me and whispered, "Oh my God, we're at the wrong funeral."

I lost it. So did he.

The harder we tried to stop giggling, the harder the giggling got. Have you ever had silent hysterics? That was what was going on with us. We didn't dare look at each other. We shook with laughter--but quietly! We silently convulsed and our shoulders were shaking, we were laughing so hard. And you know the harder you try to behave, the worse it gets, right? Finally, in desperation, we both leaned our heads over into our laps and covered our faces with our hands, helpless with whispered giggles. This, while everyone watching us is saying, "Oh, isn't that sweet? The grandchildren are overcome with grief." It was awful. It was hilarious.

That's me in all my glory. *sigh*

Oh, the third funny thing at the funeral: It was a gloomy day, it had been a very wet spring that year, and the Janesville cemetery out there by Hamilton was pretty muddy. My father was escorting my little Great-Aunt Neva, who was all of about 4'6", back to the car, and referencing my Aunt L's grand exit from the service, he said to her "Aunt Neva, I could carry you back to the car." And she looked up sharply at him and said "And I can break your goddamn arm, too!"

Southern ladies. Gotta love 'em.

This entry is getting way too long, so I will finish it tomorrow--promise!

Consider yourself warned.

Prelude to Grandma's Funeral, part 2

2009-11-06T12:06:00.000-08:00

My apologies to all you Early-morning Blog Readers, I've been a little busy today, and didn't get back to the serious world of blogging until this afternoon.

So, my mother-in-law had scheduled her mother's funeral on my favorite holiday: Halloween. Which just goes to show you how egocentric she can be sometimes.

Yes, I do know that I am being very petty, but seriously: Who schedules a funeral for Halloween? I truly believe that is the first funeral I've ever attended on Halloween in my entire life. And I sincerely hope it's the last one! WTH? It's like scheduling one on Christmas! (Well, okay, not exactly; but, I mean......really?) I absolutely could not believe what I was hearing! Staring at the Wonder Hubby in disbelief, I asked, "Seriously? Halloween?" And he nodded at me. I had to bite my lips to keep from saying something extremely shallow and mean. I left him in the kitchen so I could go have my selfish snit in private.

If you've read this blog with any regularity at all (which would probably be pretty easy to do if I wrote in it more, huh?), you know that Halloween is, without a doubt my favorite holiday. Here's a link to last year's Halloween post for proof: (Click) Even last year, when the Boeing strike had reduced the Wonder Hubby's work week to three days, we still managed to add to our front yard graveyard/Halloween extravaganza. We had planned this year to spend the weekend and week before to adding lots more gravestones, spiders, creepy lighting and spooky noises to our collection for Wichita to dig on (You should pardon the expression :-P). We already had our stock of fabulous candy goodness to hand out (we have a reputation that we're justifiably proud of: That of being The House on the Block that Gives Out The Good Stuff), we'd purchased more lighting, we were in the middle of making more gravestones (I'll probably share the How-to's sometime next week, okay?)--in short, we were on the short strip to truly awesome Halloween flying!! And now, we wouldn't even be in town on The Day. This was unfair, this was crap, this was letting the terrorists win, this was Un-American!!! How could she??

She's like that, though. The World runs at her convenience, and you either accept that and deal with it, or you spend most of your life really mad at her. Which solves nothing, right? I mean, it's not really her fault--to a point. First, she was born on Christmas day, and Grandma once told me it took her years to realize that the whole world's hoopla on that day wasn't about her; plus, almost one month to the day after her birth, she contracted polio and damned near died; so, of course, her parents went a little overboard in their spoiling of her after she'd recovered (she wears leg braces to this very day as a result. AND deals with the cruel addition of Post-polio Syndrome). And while I am extremely happy that she did survive because, let's face it--no J, no Wonder Hubby; hence, no joy in my life, I really do wish that she would at least once in a while acknowledge the bigger world around her.

BUT--this wasn't about me, was it? Much as I really wanted to get an epic Grump on (something I am extremely good at--practice, practice, practice!), I really couldn't do that. If I had, that would only have confirmed my suspicions that I am, indeed, the Most Selfish Person in the World, and I don't really want that suspicion confirmed. This was not about intruding upon my fun, this was about paying tribute to Lachlan's grandmother. This was about her, not me; this was about Lachlan losing his last grandparent; only a human of the vilest swine persuasion could truly bitch about the situation. I knew this; I knew this; I knew this--yet, a part of me still wanted to be snippy. Down, Snip, down! I yelled at myself internally, and then went to seek out the Wonder Hubby to plot our trip.

Initially, J wanted us to come down the evening before Halloween because a car trip to southwest Oklahoma is a bit arduous from Wichita, KS. Especially if fibromyalgia is involved. She even offered to put us up in a motel--and while certainly not a Holiday Express, the motel in the tiny town that Lachlan grew up in did supply beds. But he'd told her we couldn't do that because we couldn't get anyone to take care of our pets that long. "Why not?" she'd asked him in a disbelieving tone. "Because it's a holiday weekend, and people already have plans," he'd replied, which was probably the first time it occurred to her that something else was going on that day. "Oh," she'd replied in that short way she has of conveying her unhappiness over any element, anytime, anywhere, that she can't control. Oh well. So, after a brief amount of continued chat (time, place, etc.), they hung up and we tried to get used to the idea of once again, our own personal plans going askew.

Seamus, our youngest son, an all-around good person and true American, had plans for a party Halloween night (so had we, for that matter), but he cheerfully volunteered to hang around the house long enough to distribute candy to all the demons/fairies/witches/ghosts/Republicans that came to our door during the usual heaviest hours of operation. It's times like these when you realize that your kids grow up to be good humans in spite of you, not because of you. Lachlan and I made a list of things to do: Search the inner reaches of our darkest storage closets for something appropriate to wear to a funeral (After all, the Zombie costumes we'd planned to wear to the Halloween party were hardly appropriate, were they?) Get said appropriate clothes to the cleaners. Tune-up car for obnoxiously long trip. Purchase sundry and other items needed for completion of trip (snacks, drinks, maybe a map?, OMG, I don't have a decent bra--how did that happen? You know, the basics...)

Somehow, we got done what needed doing. All that was left was the actual event itself.

More tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat station

Where to Begin, That's the Question! (Prelude to Grandma's Funeral)

2009-11-05T08:01:00.000-08:00

The wonderful thing about blogging is having a lot to write about; and the worst thing about blogging is having a lot to write about. Where to begin? Let's see......

I guess I should start with...*checking calendar on wall*....ah, October 24th. Yeah, that looks good (Yes, there's a lot of other things that happened in the month of October, and you will hear about it, it's just easier for me to work backwards. Which probably explains my housekeeping skills.....)

It was Saturday evening; The Wonder Hubby and I were chilling around the house, you know, the typical weekend evening thing. We got a text on my cell phone from my mother-in-law. Before we go any further, may I ask you to explore that sentence a bit more? My mother-in-law can text. AND she has my cell phone number. I'll be 52 in January (no point in lying about it, too many people know the truth), and my mother-in-law can text, and has my cell phone number. Now, imagine that Terror in your own life! Anyway, we got this text and it said something along the lines of "Grandma is doing very poorly and isn't expected to last much longer than a few days". WTH??!! Okay, this news was not exactly unexpected, Grandma had been in a care facility for a number of years now due to Alzheimer's and advanced age. BUT, it's not like we'd just chatted with her a few days before and she had casually mentioned that her mother was fading fast. This text literally came out of the Blue! No pretext, no "Hey, how y'all doing?", no "Let me give an update on Life in Oklahoma"--none of that. Just "Here's a bombshell for you to cogitate while you're finishing digesting supper". Which, sad to say, is pretty typical when dealing with Lachlan's mom. We're just not close and we don't talk much.

So, of course, the Wonder Hubby immediately calls his mom to get, oh, I don't know, a tad more info, maybe? So he talks to her for a bit, gets another bombshell while talking to her which I'll talk about sometime later, and finally hangs up with her somewhat the worse for wear. I'm sure his mom is a good woman, but subtle she ain't. She never eases into a conversation, she blasts the listener with whatever facts she's got for them with all the delicacy and compassion of a howitzer. Doesn't matter what that info does to you, anyway; it's all about how the info impacts her. Never forget that.

Needless to say, I had a somewhat shook-up Wonder Hubby on my hands. His grandmother had helped to raise him (his dad died in a car accident when Lachlan was eight and his mother has polio), she'd been a huge part of his life; plus, she'd welcomed me with open arms into their lives, and we both considered her a treasure. Watching a vicious disease like Alzheimer's slowly steal his darling grandmother away by inches had almost been too much for Lachlan to take. The last time we'd gone to see her, which was about 4 years ago, I think, she didn't recognize me at all, and she thought Lachlan was her son, not her grandson. Before we left, he'd made his goodbye to her. He knew she wasn't going to be in there anymore, and he just couldn't bear to watch her deteriorate further. As much as he tries to hide it, my Love has a pretty tender heart inside that manly chest of his, and seeing her like that was more than he could take.

The rest of the weekend was like going through the motions of Life, but just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know the shoe is going to drop, you're expecting it to drop, you know it will be soon, and you know the shoe will drop on your newly-injured toe when it does drop, and when it does drop it's going to hurt, but you don't know when it's going to happen.

Now, before you get all philosophical on me and say something like "Life is a constant series of dropping shoes; One just has to learn to dodge" or something esoteric like that, let me say that I know that. I've known that for a long time. So does Lachlan. You know your grandparents will die before you, you know your parents will probably die before you--but that doesn't make it any easier. You know a sledgehammer to the elbow is going to hurt, but you don't really contemplate that fact until right before the head of that sucker makes contact with your skin, do you? You don't walk around thinking that sooner or later a sledgehammer is going to hit your elbow and when it does, it will hurt like a mother. You deal with the things at hand: Work, gardening (see, I remember what this blog is about!), your spouse, your kids, your washer leaking (yeah, that happened, too). You don't ponder intimate sledgehammer contact.

Lachlan, wonder to behold, actually took some time off. Now, I know that, in this economy, I should not complain about his workplace being the home of perpetual overtime, not here in Wichita where so many are unemployed. But I didn't marry his paycheck; I married him. And being rather fond of his face (and other interesting parts of his anatomy, but that's not important here), I like to see it (his face, I mean) once in a while. In a lot of ways, last week was a good week; we were together, we were getting some things done around here, and we were able to prepare for that freaking shoe to drop, so that at least when it did, we wouldn't make a ridiculous scene about it. Plus, we had to deal with the other bombshell that his mother had dropped on us as well, and that took some time and effort. (I hate to tantalize you about that, Gentle Reader, but it was a big deal: Too big to deal with in this posting. I will write about it, honest; it just deserves its own space.) So, we dealt with that, we eked along, we braced ourselves for the inevitable, and we waited.

Tuesday the 27th was my mother's birthday (Hi Mom!) and we went to take her some flowers that I cannot for the life of me remember the name of, but they were not cut flowers, they were living plants. Like any other red blooded woman, my mom loves to get flowers, she adores getting flowers just like I do, but she really, really likes living plants as opposed to cut flowers. What poor growing skills I possess are a mere shadow of my mom's ability: The woman could grow orchids on window panes. She's just that good. She doesn't have green thumbs, she has green arms. Matter of fact, I used to try to get her to exploit that talent a little more: I used to try to convince her that if she could overlook the illegality of the issue, she and I could make a good chunk of change in the highly lucrative field of a specific crop cultivation program. Admittedly, the retirement plan sucked, but the profits were amazing. She always turned me down, though. Le sigh. While we were visiting with her and my father, we updated them on Grandma's situation. They were very sympathetic and we left, promising to keep them posted. We returned home.

And that shoe I was talking about? It dropped.

Grandma passed away that evening. It was a quiet, peaceful passing, and I was happy about that. I'd harbored this fear that she was actually still in there somewhere, you know? That she was trapped and couldn't quite find her way out and not only did she not deserve that, nobody deserves that. She was free, and back with Lachlan's grandfather, who was the great love of her love, just like the Wonder Hubby is mine, and I was relieved and he was relieved, yet sad. So after shedding just a few tears, we called his mom to find out when and where the funeral was to be, all that good stuff. The decent, civilized thing to do, you know.

Halloween. My mother-in-law set the funeral of her mother on Halloween.

Stupefying.

So much for my civility.

Oh Hey, How You Doin'?

2009-11-04T09:37:00.000-08:00

......yeah, so it's been over a month since I posted. Wow. I'm really sorry about that. October was a month of mishaps: Illness; washer death; the funeral of the Wonder Hubby's darlin' of a grandma; trouble, yet, ultimately, success.

And the buttoning down of the garden for the winter.

I will post about all these things this week, I promise. I am recommitting myself to this blog today. Right now, I just want to say that I am sorry I've been gone for so long and that I hope, Gentle Reader, that you will understand and forgive me, as well as keep reading.

After all, Douglas and Main got to restart, didn't he?* Don't I deserve a second chance, too? :-P

*No, contrary to rumor, Wela and the writer of Douglas and Main are not the same person, and the fact that we both disappeared from the blogging community is pure coincidence. But isn't it nice that he's back?

2009-09-22T12:32:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of Autumn. Oh man, how in the world did that happen so fast? Wasn't I just planting my garden a couple of weeks ago? Or is it just that I haven't posted this year as much as I should have? Well, sorry about that; Life -- what can I tell you? It really gets in the way of your living it, doesn't it?

I thought, in honor of the Autumnal Equinox, that I would finally write down my recipe for homemade marinara sauce, like I've been promising to do all summer. ("And the better late than never Award goes to.....") Okay, I deserved that! Now, my recipe is based on the "Basic Multi-Use Tomato Sauce" one found on page 227 in "The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving" by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard. Keep in mind, however, that I have taken considerable liberties with it, ones designed to our taste buds and our garden. Your results will vary, depending on which version of the recipe you use. So, having delivered that caveat, here's my version of their great work:

20 cups Roma or plum tomatoes, peeled and chopped
10 cups Better Boy tomatoes, peeled and chopped
10 cups Yellow tomatoes, peeled and chopped
5 cups Cherry tomatoes (dried tomatoes can be used instead), peeled
1 clove Garlic (up to 4 can be used; we just can't take much garlic)
1 tbsp dried onion bits (or 1 large onion chopped, if you really like onions)
1 Green Bell pepper, finely chopped
1 Red Bell pepper, finely chopped
2 medium sized carrots, chopped
2 large stalks of celery, finely chopped
2/3 cup dry Red wine
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
2 bay leaves
1 tbsp pickling salt
2 tsp each, dried oregano and basil (if using fresh herbs, then use 2 tbsp of each)
1 tsp granulated sugar
1/4 tsp each, ground cinnamon and pepper
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

* Combine tomatoes, garlic, celery carrots, onion, green pepper and red pepper in a very large
enamel, stainless steel or glass saucepan. Add i cup of water. Bring to a boil over high heat,
reduce heat and boil gently, covered, for 25 minutes or until mixture begins to thicken, stirring
occasionally.

* Add to sauce wine, vinegar, bay leaves, salt, oregano, basil, sugar, cinnamon and pepper.
continue to boil gently, stirring frequently, until desired consistency (the sauce will have reduced
itself about 1/3 to a 1/2, depending on how thick you want your sauce.) Discard the bay leaves
and stir in parsley.

* Remove hot jars from canner and ladle sauce into jars to within 1/2 inch of the rim. Process for
35 minutes for pint jars and 40 minutes for quart jars. Remove jars from water and wipe down.
Cool down thoroughly before storing in cool, dark place.

This not only makes a great stand-alone marinara sauce, it can be a pizza sauce, a tomato sauce, a base for tomato soup, and........well, you think of something! I can't be thinking up all this stuff by myself, now can I? (Get it? Can I? *snerk* Pretty funny, eh? eh?.......party pooper!)

Anyway, take this and run, my children!! But do me a favor, and drop me a line. I'd like to know who uses this recipe and how. I'm never opposed to learning something! Enjoy!!

In Honor of "International Talk Like a Pirate Day"....

2009-09-19T13:17:00.000-07:00

....quick biographical sketches of my two personal favoite pirates (courtesy of Wikipedia):

Anne Bonny (March 8, 1700- possibly April 25, 1782) was an Irish American pirate who plied her trade in the Carribean.

Early life

Much of what is known about Anne Bonny is based on Captain Charles Johnson's "A General History of Pyrates" . Official records and contemporary letters dealing with her life are scarce. Most details about her life prior to her arrival in the Bahamas do not appear to be based on any primary source evidence, including the claims that she was born in 1702 in County Cork, Ireland; that she was a daughter of attorney William Cormac and his maidservant; that her mother was named Mary Brennan and her grandmother was named Peg; and that, when the affair became public, Cormac moved to Charleston, SC, where he made a fortune and bought a large plantation. Diligent efforts to source all of these claims continue in earnest by pirate historians.

Marriage and affair with a pirate

When Bonny was 13, she supposedly stabbed a servant girl in the stomach with a table knife. She married a sailor and small-time pirate named James Bonny. According to legend, James Bonny hoped to win possession of his wife's family estate, but she was disowned by her father.

There is no evidence supporting the story that Anne Bonny started a fire on the plantation in retaliation, but it is known that sometime between 1714 and 1718 she and James Bonny moved to Nassau in the Bahamas which was then a pirate hub and base for many pirate operations. It is also true that after the arrival of Governor Woodes Rogers in the summer of 1718, James Bonny became an informant for the governor

While in the Bahamas, Anne Bonny began mingling with pirates at the local drinking establishments, and met the pirate Calico Jack Rackham, with whom she had an affair. While Rackham and many other pirates were enjoying the King's pardon in the New Providence, James dragged Anne before the governor to demand she be floggedfor adultery and returned to him. There was even an offer for Rackham to buy her in a divorce-by-purchase, but Anne refused to be "bought and sold like cattle." She was sentenced to the flogging, but later Anne and Rackham escaped to live together as pirates.

Life as a pirate

Bonny did not disguise herself as a man in order to join Rackham's crew aboard the Revenge as is often claimed. In fact, she and the other favorite of mine, Mary Reed, or Read, helped Rackham steal the boat at anchor in Nassau harbour and set off to sea, putting together a crew and taking several prizes. She took part in combat alongside the men, and the accounts describing her exploits present her as competent, effective in combat, and someone who gained the respect of her fellow pirates. She and Mary Read's name and gender were, however, known to all from the start, including Gov. Rogers, who named them in a "pirates wanted" circular published in the continent's only newspaper, the Boston News-Letter^.

Over the next several months, she and Rackham saw several successes as pirates, capturing many ships and bringing in an abundance of treasure.

Although Bonny is one of the best-known pirates in history, she never commanded a ship of her own. Her renown derives from the fact that she was a rarity: a female pirate.

Capture and imprisonment

In October 1720, Rackham and his crew were attacked by a sloop captained by Jonathan Barnet, who was working for the governor of Jamaica. Most of Rackham's pirates did not put up much resistance as many of them were too drunk to fight, other sources indicate it was at night and most of them were asleep. However, Read, Bonny, and an unknown man (possibly Calico Jack), fought fiercely and managed to hold off Barnet's troops for a short time. After their capture, Rackham and his crew were sentenced by the Governor of Jamaica to be hanged. According to Johnson, Bonny's last words to the imprisoned Rackham were that "she was sorry to see him there, but if he had fought like a Man, he need not have been hang'd like a Dog."

After their arrest and trial, Read and Bonny both pleaded their bellies, announcing during the sentencing phase that they were both pregnant. In accordance with the common law at the time, both women received a temporary stay of execution until they gave birth. Read died in prison, most likely from a fever, though it has been alleged that she died during childbirth.

Disappearance from the record

There is no historical record of Bonny's release or of her execution. This has fed speculation that her father ransomed her; that she might have returned to her husband, or even that she resumed a life of piracy under a new identity. However, the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography states that "Evidence provided by the descendants of Anne Bonny suggests that her father managed to secure her release from jail and bring her back to Charles Town, South Carolina, where she gave birth to Rackham's second child. On December 21, 1721 she married a local man, Joseph Burleigh, and they had eight children. She died in South Carolina, a respectable woman, at the age of eighty-two and was buried on April 25, 1782."

And the other half of the greatest female pirate duo:

Mary Read (unknown – 1721) was an English pirate She is chiefly remembered as one of only two women (her comrade, Anne Bonney, was the other) known to have been convicted of piracy during the early 18th century, at the height of the Golden Age of Piracy.

Early life

Mary Read was illegitimately born in England, in the late 17th century, to the widow of a sea captain.

Her date of birth is in dispute among historians because of a reference to the Peace of Ryswick by her contemporary biographer, Captain Charles Johnson in his "A General History of Pyrates. He very well may have made an error, intending to refer to the Treaty of Utrecht. The discrepancy would place her birth either c.1680 or c.1690. If she was born the latter, she was the very typical age of 28 at the time of her piracy. (If Read was born earlier, there is no record by Johnson nor any other contemporary author to explain what happened in the 15 year gap from the war to her piracy.)

Read's mother began to disguise illegitimately-born Mary as a boy after the death of Mary's older, legitimate brother (name unknown). This was done in order to continue to receive financial support from his paternal grandmother. The grandmother was apparently fooled, and Read and her mother lived on the inheritance into her teenage years. Still dressed as a boy, Read then found work as a footboy, and later found employment on a ship.

After learning the harsh realities of the sea life, she jumped ship and joined the British military allied with Dutch and Austrian forces (this could have been during the Nine Years War or during the War of Spanish Succession). Read, in male disguise, proved herself through battle, but she fell in love with a Flemish soldier. When they married, she dressed as a woman for the first time in her life. They used their military commission and gifts from intrigued brethren in arms as a funding source to acquire an inn named "The Three Horseshoes" near Breda Castle in The Netherlands.

Upon her husband's early death, Read resumed male dress and military service in Holland. With peace, there was no room for advancement, so she quit and boarded a ship bound for the West Indies.

Becoming a pirate

Read's ship was taken by pirates, who forced her to join them. She took the King's pardon c.1718-1719, and took a commission to privateer, until that ended with her joining the crew in mutiny. In 1720 she joined pirate John "Calico Jack" Rackham and his companion, the female pirate Anne Bonney.

Read remained dressed as a man at first. Nobody knew that Read was female until Bonny began to take a liking to Read thinking she was a handsome young fellow. That forced Read to reveal to Bonny that she was a woman. Rackham, who was Bonny's lover, became jealous of the intimacy between them and threatened to cut the throat of Bonny's new paramour. To prevent Read's death, Rackham was also let in on the secret; following, Rackham decided to break male seafaring tradition by allowing both women to remain on the crew.

Eventually, Read and Bonny would wear men's clothes while attacking merchants in Jamaica, and women's clothes at other times.

Battles

Read fell in love with one of the sea artists (carpenter or navigator) who had been forced by Rackham's crew. The sea artist was due to fight a duel with an experienced pirate he had rubbed the wrong way. Read, knowing that her beloved stood no chance against him, started a quarrel with the pirate and challenged him to a duel that would take place before the pending duel with the forced man.

Read prevailed in the death match, and her lover showed up on time for his duel.

Capture and imprisonment

In October 1720, pirate hunter Captain Johnathan Barnet took Rackham's crew by surprise while they were hosting a rum party with another crew of Englishmen off the west coast of Jamaica. After a volley of fire left the pirate vessel disabled, Rackham's crew and their "guests" fled to the hold, leaving only the women and one other to fight Barnet's boarding party. Allegedly, Read angrily shot into the hold, killing one, wounding others when the men would not come up and fight with them. Barnet's crew eventually overcame the women. Rackham surrendered, requesting "quarter."

Rackham and his crew were arrested and brought to trial in what is now known as\ Spanish Town, Jamaica, where they were sentenced to hang for acts of piracy, as were Read and Bonny. However, the women escaped the noose when they revealed they were both "quick with child" (known as 'pleading the belly"), so they received a temporary stay of execution. Read was believed to have been pregnant by the artist, whom she considered her legal husband before God. Bonny was believed to have been pregnant by Rackham (who was not her legal husband).

Read died in prison in April 1721, but there is no record of burial of her baby. Official documents state that Read died of fever associated with childbirth.

Bonny disappeared from the historical record, presumed to have lived a long life in Colonial America.

I rather suspect that there were many more female pirates than these two (look up Grace O'Malley sometime), but these are the most famous, and since my great-grandmother Mary Catherine was a Reed before marrying Grandpa Hughes, I've always been very partial to them.

So, why not enjoy "Talk Like a Pirate" Day by learning a little more about them?

Argh!!

Are Any of Us Going to Make It Out of Our Fifties?

2009-09-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

Patrick Swayze died from complications of pancreatic cancer last night. He was 57. He made some really good movies and some real stinkers, but I think the driving force behind him was to entertain people. And, for the most part, he did. There are worse epitaphs for celebrities out there.

Rest in Peace, Pat. You did good, Kiddo.

Everything I Needed to Know, I Learned From the Monkees

2009-09-10T21:34:00.000-07:00

Zor and Zam
By Bill Chadwick and John Chadwick


The king of Zor, he called for war
And the king of Zam, he answered.
They fashioned their weapons one upon one
Ton upon ton, they called for war at the rise of the sun.

Out went the call to one and to all
That echoed and rolled like the thunder.
Trumpets and drums, roar upon roar
More upon more.
Rolling the call of "Come now to war."

Throughout the night they fashioned their might
With Right on the side of the mighty.
They puzzled their minds plan upon plan
Man upon man
And at dying of dawn the great war began.

They met on the battlefield banner in hand.
They looked out across the vacant land.
And they counted the missing, one upon one,
None upon none.
The war it was over before it begun.

Two little kings playing a game.
They gave a war and nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.
And nobody came.

First Side That Decides to be Reasonable Wins

2009-09-02T20:05:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of PunditKitchen.com found here

How about we start playing nicer, America?

Dog Days? Where?

2009-08-31T10:48:00.000-07:00

Hasn't the last few days been absolutely beautiful? If I didn't have a calendar, I could never, ever believe that this is the last day of August, in the year 2009, in Kansas. As I am typing this, it is 12:48 pm and the temperature outside is 70 degrees. You read that right. 70. The almanac will tell you that the average temperature for today here in Doo-dah is 91 degrees (which gives you no real clue as to the typical August 31 temperature, for most of my adult life it has hovered right around 100 degrees.) I have no clue why Mother Nature is being so kind to Kansas of late, but I ain't gonna argue!! We can have this kind of weather clear up to November, and that will sit just fine with me!

Yesterday, the Wonder Hubby actually broke the shackles of perpetual overtime, and had the day off. Well, "day off" is a figurative term, isn't it? We spent the day in the back yard attempting to reclaim it from the wilderness that had consumed it while we weren't looking. I have to confess that it was really wonderful to be out in my garden again; the last two months have been pretty rough for me, pain and fatigue have won most of the daily battles. Now, however, I'm on a brand new medication, Savella, and I've got to tell you, it seems to be working. My pain level has dropped significantly, I'm taking fewer pain pills, and so far, I'm not experiencing any of the emotional and physical issues I had with Lyrica. Yay me!! ( I wonder how many hoops the insurance company is going to make me jump through before it will break down and pay for this stuff? Oh well, guess I'll worry about that when I run out of the sample packs the PA gave me....)

The garden needed a lot of clean up: I pulled the last of the cucumber vines' dead clingers; attempted to beat back the interloping grass (I guess I now know how that old cliche "Grass grows everywhere but where you want it to" gained popularity); and picked, picked, picked tomatoes. Somehow, I'm going to have to squeeze in a marinara sauce-making session before next weekend. Right. I wonder how many Diet Pepsis I'd have to drink in order to stay up for 24 hours......? (Yeah, I know: BAD IDEA!!! I'm not serious. Much.) By last evening, what with my tidying and his mowing and weed-eating, we were pretty much zombies. Make that very sore, very sweaty, very tired zombies. But the garden and the yard look ever-so-much better, and I don't feel nearly as bad today as I expected to, so all is well. After showers, viewing "True Blood" (the show is a real hoot to watch, I fracking love it!) and dining on homemade pizza (using my homemade tomato sauce, by the way!), we were both ready for a brisk coma, which we promptly proceeded to indulge in. Romance isn't dead at our house, not by any means, but it often does involve a rain check. *sigh* And I do have to suppress a lot of guilt over the fact that Lachlan's days off, few and far between as they are, are seldom actually off: He usually ends up working harder around the house than he does at his actual job. Like he's always said, "You don't buy a house; you buy another job."

This week is going to be super busy: I have sewing and painting and (hopefully) embroidering to do before this weekend, when the local SCA group will be hosting its annual "Tournament of Valor" event for all the SCAdians of the world who wish to come. This year's event promises to be great fun--lots of fighting, lots of Arts and Sciences, sumo wrestling (I'm serious!), and the joy of friends getting together to wallow in each other's company. If any of my readers are curious, send me a message and I'll give you directions to the camp where the event is being held--you can come and see our weirdness in person if you like. All are welcome!

AND I also need to get some laundry done, keep up the housework, spread newspapers and mulch in the garden to keep the grass and weeds at bay, as seen here; AND the aforementioned marinara sauce-making session. Labor Day is to be spent with my folks and brother for a barbecue. Bring on the yum!!

I thought your life was supposed to slow down as you age......when exactly does that begin?

Continuing On in That Canning Fashion....

2009-08-20T06:43:00.000-07:00

Man, I really need to drag my lazy butt in here more often and blog, don't I? Will you forgive me if I tell you that I've alternated between being super busy and in a lot of pain? No? I don't blame you, I don't forgive me either.....

The garden has finally ground its cucumber production to a halt--just in time, too! I now have more jars of pickles than will ever be consumed around here--seriously! I'm wondering if I should even bother to plant them next year....well, maybe just one vine. (I do like fresh cucumbers, after all; and son Seamus can easily eat his own weight in them. Well, we'll see...) I had so many cucumbers that I had to call in the Marines for help!...but I didn't get an answer, so I got the Wonder Hubby instead.

What can I say? The Man knows his way around a knife! Besides, name one project of mine that he doesn't get involved with, sooner or later--Hah! I know you can't!. So after converting the last bunch of cucumbers into the World's Largest Hamburger Dill Chips, I thought I'd get a breather; but NNNOOOOOO, just when I thought it was safe to go back into the garden, tomato production began in earnest. Great. What the hell am I going to do with all of these? Oh yeah, I can can them, too! Wow! Better roll up my sleeves and get on them, hadn't I?

Now, lest you think that a great deal of proper equipment and experience is required for proper canning, allow me to present the Family Canning Plant:

Yup, that's It in all Its Glory: A pressure canner, two pots, a funnel, a blender (not pictured here) and a buttload of jars and lids. Whoo. How technical can you get? Okay, okay, I admit that I'm being a just a tad sarcastic here, but my point is, this isn't exactly rocket science; and if I can do it, etc. All you really need is the ability to go to Mal-Wart and buy yourself a pressure canner (or borrow one from some slacker) and couple that with your ability to read instructions. (I know you can read, you're here!) Even someone who is not a big fan of pressure cookers can accomplish some good stuff with these basic tools.

No, I don't like pressure cookers. We had one blow up on us in Home Ec when I was a kid. (In retrospect, I think I must have had one of the worst Home Ec teachers ever. She didn't seem to want to teach us how to function in our homes so much as she wanted to show us how to land a husband. I was fairly bemused by her attitude, especially since she was divorced. Not exactly an expert in my opinion then and now.) And I have had a small mishap with my pressure canner which did result in minor burns and one terrified redhead, but I've managed to overcome my PTSD and continue my canning experiments, so it can be done. (Get it? "Can" be done? Funny, eh? What? Oh, nevermind!) I would advise that you check your pressure canner every single time you get it out to use it and make sure that everything is nice and tight; and yes, that is personal experience talking. Follow the directions to the letter, and you shouldn't have any problems. I think I'll probably go through a step-by-step in a future entry, today I'm just trying to get myself and you, Gentle Reader, caught up.

So far, I've made one batch of all-purpose tomato sauce, and I'm canning one batch of marinara sauce today. Last year, we froze the stuff, and while I probably will freeze the next batch since it will probably be converted into salsa, I think I'll continue to can the sauces. Tomorrow I'll post my recipes. I expect that I'll get at least four more batches of tomatoes out of the garden even though I have far fewer plants this year than last. It's amazing how much one can accomplish with just a little compost. No, I take that back: If you've ever observed Kansas politicians, then you know how much can be accomplished with a little compost....I think my way is rather more productive, don't you?

Speaking of the garden (Nice segue, Red! You think so? Thanks!), last Saturday I went out there and discovered that we had a tenant:

Isn't she gorgeous? That's a garden spider, or as my dad calls it, a corn spider, or Argiope aurantia, as the biologist in me insists on calling her. Notice the distinctive black and yellow body, and the orange and black legs. You'll know when you have one because they weave a very large, almost perfect web with a very distinctive "zipper" in the very center there. Now this is a wonderful thing to have in your garden because her favorite food just happens to be all those little bugs that delight in chewing to pieces those plants that you have so carefully cultivated. This is a female, and I know that because she is big for a spider around here (they can get up to 3" long including their legs, and why wouldn't you include their legs?) She's a little scary looking, I'll grant you, but since she is absolutely harmless to us human types, I was overjoyed to see her! (My kind of human considers her very good luck, you see. Us tree-hugging dirt-worshippers love them!) When the Wonder Hubby got home from perpetual overtime, I had him take her picture because I suck at taking pictures. He got these results:

And then, for good measure, he named her Artemis, after the Greek Goddess--the Virgin Huntress. I thought this was an exceptionally good name for her, don't you agree? So, we clicked a few pics and then went inside, happy in our newfound visitor.....

Until that evening, when it rained like water pouring out of a bucket! The wind blew a gale, and so much water came down that we still have a lake in the very back of the yard! When I looked out Sunday morning, I saw that Artemis was gone. That upset me greatly because I was afraid she'd drowned or something.

But yesterday morning I went outside and guess what? (What?) I found her tucked in amongst the tomato cages!!
Oh, I did the happy dance of joy, let me tell you! You should have seen me! (I know the neighbors did, but they all think I'm insane anyway!)

So, even though I'm still suffering a bit from cabin fever and the pain medication blues, I gotta tell you that a beautiful spider in your garden and home-grown tomatoes spouting out from your ears can sure go a long way towards soothing your soul!

Yes, We Can, oh, We Can-Can!!

2009-08-11T08:52:00.000-07:00

(With all due apologies to the Pointer Sisters for the awful punning reference in today's title!) Go on, ask me what I've been doing lately....I dare you! Ask me why it is that I haven't posted for so long! You got it! It's canning season! See, last year's garden was amazing and bountiful, but I felt like some of the food was going to waste.....a grievous sin to my Scot soul; so this year, I decided that I would can/freeze/dry/smoke/powder/whatever it took to keep from wasting food. Yeah.....so who couldn't have guessed that I would be up to my eyeballs in jars of pickles, tomatoes, sauces, salsas, preserves? I mean, besides me, of course. Needless to say, it's been a bit crazy around here.

Before I go into nauseating detail about my life amongst Ball jars, I just wanted to point your attention to the blue square to the left of my daily (okay, not so daily, lately) posts. "Blog with Integrity" is a movement amongst those of us who not only have enough time on our hands to write about the daily minutiae of our lives so that all you wonderful Gentle Readers know WAY too much about us, but we actually have enough time to worry about the honesty of our blogs. It seems that some of the Mommy Blogs out there on the 'Net actually make their creators money. What an interesting concept! I'm all for that; it would be fracking awesome if I could help supplement the budget around our happy homestead by writing. BUT: The way some of the Mommy Blogs out there have been making money is to endorse products or stores or people or whatever in exchange for cash. Apparently, this situation has grown to the point that one cannot trust that whatever one is reading on the 'Net was written because, by Gosh!, the writer was so impressed by this or that product/store/person/whatever, that she just had to sit right down right then and share her wonder with the blogging world! (You can't trust what you read on the Internet? Say it ain't so!) It could possibly, just possibly, be an entry that was written in exchange for money, and that writer is actually being less-than-sincere in her admiration of said product! Or worse, it might even be a professional writer posing--dare I say?--posing as a Mommy blogger! I know, I know! The horror of it all! *Tongue is now permanently glued to cheek*

Anyway, even though I would absolutely adore to paid for my writing, and the thought of monetary compensation just for adding my thoughts to the Posterity that is the Internet makes me downright giddy; and even though I don't think I quite qualify as a Mommy Blogger, I promise you right here and now that I have never received a dime for any of the books, or products, or stores or websites that I have recommended in the almost year-and-a-half that I have been blathering about my backyard garden--and I probably never will. And should I somehow pull off that miracle known as corporate sponsorship in the future, I promise I will be forthright and up-front about it, and I will let you know that I have, in fact, received money from this or that crowd. But, in all fairness, I think I should point out to whatever potential sponsors that might be hovering around my blog out of extreme boredom/desperation that even if you were to give me money to write about your product; if your product sucks, I won't hesitate to let the world know your product sucks. AND I'll keep the money. So there!

Okay, enough of that, back to canning. Like I said, I now know more about mason jars than I ever thought I would. I can't help but think back to my days in high school when I was forced (and I do mean forced) to take Home Ec class. I wanted to take Shop; I thought learning to fix cars and construct shelves would be wwaaayyyyy more useful than making an apron, but nnnnnooooo; I was a girl, I had no business swinging a hammer (they'd obviously not met my mom at that point); I needed to know how to make a comfy home for that Wonderful Guy that I would surely snare! Right.... (this was 1972, kids--about the time that women were beginning to really think that men might be their equals...mostly)

Upshot: I skipped Home Ec as often as I could get away with it. I didn't like the teacher, I didn't like cooking, I didn't care about sewing because I already knew how, I didn't care about snaring that Wonderful Guy. And now, here it is, 37 years later (oy!), and I cook and I sew and I did snare that Wonderful Guy. And I realize that my teacher wasn't awful, she was just behind the times in her thinking that the proper way to dust and vacuum a house was an essential priority in a woman's learning process. AND I wish I'd paid more attention to that class sometimes, like when we went over the archaic science known as preserving foods. But, no, you know me--I gotta learn it all the hard way! Altogether now: RESEARCH!

I've already talked about the two books that I've been using to preserve all this yummy goodness that Mother Nature has flattened us with, but they're both worth mentioning again: Canning, Freezing and Drying by the Editors of Sunset Books and Sunset Magazine; and, if you don't happen to plant enough vegetables to feed the North American continent, you should probably get The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard. Both are available through Amazon (and probably elsewhere, I just happen to favor Amazon), just click on the titles and you'll be linked to them. No compensation here, they both just happen to be good books with easy-to-read instructions.

My cucumber vines are (finally!) starting to wind down their production: Good thing, too, because I sincerely doubt I can foist any more pickles off on friends and family! Dig this:

And this:
Now, son Seamus and I are absolute cucumber addicts; we both could, unprovoked, eat our weights in cucumbers daily! But even the two of us couldn't keep us with those two cucumber vines I planted! So, in sheer desperation, I've turned to pickling them: I've made dills, bread and butter pickles, even hamburger chips. Jars and jars of them! So, of course, I needed help:
The Wonder Hubby to the rescue!

Which resulted in a counter top that looked like this:And a stove top that was beginning to resemble a corner of Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory:

But we now now have jars and jars of pickles. Matter of fact, if Vlasic is invaded tomorrow by pickle-eating aliens who wipe out the company's entire inventory, you can rest assured that the good ol' USA will still be in good-standing pickle-wise, just from my two backyard vines. Yes, by golly, the Wonder Hubby and I would patriotically haul our pickle jars to Washington D.C. itself, just to make sure that the President and Congress would not have to eat their hamburgers pickle-less. We would be honored to do so!

Of course, we would expect to be paid.......

(more canning news tomorrow, along with some recipes.....I promise!)

Must Have Caught Me on a Good Day!

2009-07-30T18:03:00.001-07:00

Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

Night Visitors

2009-07-28T12:43:00.000-07:00

One of the many things that I truly, deeply love about the Wonder Hubby is his ability to unabashedly reveal his inner geek. Sure, he's a manly man who can swing a hammer with panache, work on a car with no fear of grease, and kick the ass of anyone who fancies it; he's got a seductively deep voice with a Western drawl, pretty much guaranteeing that he can make my knees wobbly whenever he wishes. And he's a very sexy-looking man to complete the package. And don't get me wrong, he can appreciate the subtleties of a cute bouncy girl in a tight skirt as well as the next Neanderthal and he can never seem to remember that dirty socks look better in a laundry hamper than on the floor; but for all of that, his geekiness is still tucked well in the forepart of his brain, and he has no problem letting it come out when the occasion demands. Take last night.

Now, since he happens to be married to my tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping self, it is, more often than not, Nature who will bring his inner geek to the fore. Take last night, for instance. We were getting ready for bed, and he was going to go out to the car to get something, I don't know what, and it doesn't matter because he forgot all about it when he saw this:It seems that a spider with more creativity and ambition than common sense had decided to build her latest masterpiece on our front porch. Ordinarily, this wouldn't bother us, but she built it right over the stairs we have to take to get to the driveway and hence, to our car. But rather than tear the web down, Lachlan was utterly spellbound! The iridescence of the web's strands absolutely captivated him! He stood for a moment and then came back inside to get me. Now, me being an even bigger geek than he, fell in love with the web's beauty. I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I sure can't build something so delicate, so lovely, so deadly! So, I did what any geek wife would do for a geek husband: I went back in and got the camera, and then spent the next 20 minutes watching him take pictures of our new friend, Arachne, and her domicile:Notice how different angles bring out different colors and complexities of her web? We had a marvelous time oohing and ahhing over her architectural skills. And even though she looks, at first glance, like a really dumpy, furry brown spider, as she moved around putting the final touches on her home, we began to appreciate her grace and skill. It's hard to be scared of such an artist, you know? Lachlan tried for a close up of her:

But our camera didn't quite seem up to the challenge. All we have is a little digital Kodak AF 7.0 mega pixels, I think Arachne needs someone who's got a little higher juice to properly capture her spirit.

The Wonder Hubby was, however, able to capture some of her potential meals. They were all hovering around our porchlight, and let's face it, they were the real reason she was there; making her debut on the Internet was no doubt the furthest thing from her mind. But even her potential flapping dinners had beauty all their own:
From the fashionable black and white, to a slightly blurry orange with a lavendar stripe across his entire wingspan;

This guy's camouflage was so amazing, we didn't even see him at first;

while this guy announced his presence to the entire World! (Green just doesn't blend with red brick!)

Finally, lest the neighbors start thinking that we had a telephoto lens with which to peruse their bedtime rituals, we went back inside. And this morning when I got up, the first thing I did was to go see if Arachne was still there. But, alas! She's gone, no doubt having taken a few of our moth friends with her. I'm very glad that Lachlan took all those pictures, though. I want to hold on to the memory of her talents for a while. I'm hoping that neither one of us ever lose that childlike geekiness we both possess that allows us to take a minute and marvel at a spider's web or a moth's coloration. Somehow, the World's a lot more fun when you can share nerd moments with the absolute coolest person you know. Thanks, Baby, for showing me the web and for taking all those pictures. I love you!

And who knows? Maybe she'll come back tonight. Want to feed her a moth? I'll meet you at the front door about 9.

Pickles!

2009-07-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

I can't believe we're already near the end of July! I can't believe I've been neglecting to post! I hope that you, Gentle Reader, will forgive me, but I've been up to my keester in cucumbers! And lest you think of some downright inappropriate remarks after that last sentence, let me hasten to assure you that I have been making them into pickles.....that is, when I can't foist them off on unsuspecting relatives and friends. For instance, this is how I looked the last time I went to visit my parents:

I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but it can be very difficult to get people to open their doors when you're packing a lot of fresh produce like this! I think next time I'll hide them behind my back, and then when the folks open the door, I'll set the vegetables just inside the doorway and then run like hell! Or is that too cruel? Or should I worry that my father still might be able to catch me?

So having given away as many cucumbers as family ties and friendship will allow, I decided to pickle the rest. Now the Wonder Hubby, in spite of being the Universe's Single Greatest Husband Ever, is not a huge fan of pickles. It's okay, I forgave him long ago--no one's perfect, after all! I, on the other hand, could cheerfully nom my way through a Vlasic factory. If you couple that talent with a sincere dread of letting food go to waste, you just about have to learn to can stuff, don't you? Don't you? Well, that's my justification for my activities of late, and I'm sticking to it!

Since there were no rocking pickle recipes in the family (or at least, none that my Mother would admit to), I conned...er, allowed the Wonder Hubby to take me to the bookstore in search of a book of canning techniques. And I found a doozy! It's called The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving by Ellie Topp and Margaret Howard, and it is simply stuffed with enough canning projects to keep one massively overweight all year 'round! (Good thing the Wonder Hubby and I have started back to the gym on a regular basis!) I especially like the fact that the book centers around small batches of canning goodness so that even if you have a very small veggie garden, you can still preserve some of your edible goodies. And if you're overcompensating or whatever, and have a rather large backyard garden like me, all you have to do is double the recipes.

So, every couple of weeks, my kitchen looks like this:
(I'm not exactly blessed with an abundance of counter space!)

And the stovetop looks like this:

Now, my cukes aren't supposed to grow to be massive cukezillas, but I think there must be radiation in the compost heap or something, because I've been forced to cut them in wedges just to get them into the pint jars:

It makes for quite the mess, but oh! the kitchen smells amazing when all this is going on!

And, the wonderful thing is, after you've worked yourself to the bone making dill pickles (using my own homegrown dill, thank you so very much!), and bread and butter pickles; you have a lack of counter space that looks like this:

Out of 31 cucumbers, I was able to make 12 jars of dill pickles and 15 jars of bread and butter pickles; plus, I only had one jar that didn't seal up in the canning process! Most gratifying, I have to say! BUT, I realized nearly immediately that even I couldn't eat all those pickles--however tempting it would be to try! So, I took a case to the local SCA meeting last week and let everyone who wanted some to have at them. And now, I've got to keep those cucumber vines producing, because it turned out that some people didn't get any, and I have to make more! Who'da thunk?

Now, today, I am back in the kitchen, this time to make watermelon rind pickles. You didn't know one could make pickles out of watermelon rinds? Well, I'm here to tell you that not only can you pickle melon rinds, they turn out as very delish, very tangy and sweet pickles that one can easily founder on! If you don't believe me, just watch me! Then maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to work on some of my other planned projects for a day or two.

No more than that, though; you see, the tomatoes are almost ripe.....

Updates! Get Yer Red-Hot Updates Here!

2009-07-09T07:24:00.000-07:00

Yeah, well, at least I still give them, unlike some I could name (what the frack happened to Douglas and Main? The SCA's own "I Can Haz Anakronism?" gets updated more often!) But between heat and health, it has been a bit of a struggle to keep all of you enlightened as to my gardening progress. Here's hoping for better communication in the future:

Wasn't last Sunday wonderful? So lovely and cool! The Wonder Hubby and I actually got out in the back yard and whilst he fought the overgrown grass and won, I pulled old plants and planted new ones in their places, because damn all torpedoes! I want a garden that overflows with green goodness this year! Think I'm getting close, too! Allow me to share.

Now, a lot of what we've planted so far this year is stuff that we have absolutely no experience with, so things are bound to get interesting as the weeks go on. For example, we planted strawberry plants, which you know about already; and they are throwing their little shoots out right, left and center, which, I'm told, is exactly what they're supposed to be doing:

Now, someone please tell me that these things aren't going to be aiming at the house, and then creating human-shaped berries to slowly take over our lives! As appealing as a strawberry-flavored Wonder Hubby is at first glance, I can't see how much good such a creation would be once it started getting mushy!

And while this is a zucchini, which we have grown before (if you'll recall last year's "Attack of the Zombie Zucchinis"), this type is supposed to be something of a space saver. Supposedly, we'll get maximum 'cchinis with minimal space. We'll see. I'm thinking of giving it a little compost tea, 'cause the poor little thing looks kinda sickly to me!

These little darlin's promise me that they are going to grow me lots and lots of eggplant when they get a little bigger, and I have no reason not to believe them: My only problem is that I don't believe I've ever cooked an eggplant dish in my life, so should it turn out that we don't like them, I guess we'll be giving them out as Halloween treats. Or just leaving them in unlocked cars (hey, it worked for the yellow squash and zucchini last year!)

Now, I'm really rather excited about these: the sunlight played a little
hell with my picture taking abilities, but those are sweet potato vines! I adore sweet potatoes, can never get enough of them, so that's going to be just wonderful, isn't it? Wait a minute....did I say "sweet potato vines"? I did, didn't I? Oh dear. That means I've got to come up with something else for plants to clamber all over, doesn't it? I wonder what Lachlan has in mind for that old trailer ramp in the background there. Hmmmmm......

And in case you're curious ( and you must be a bit 'cause you've hung around this long!), the rest of the garden is doing rather well in spite of the heat blasts from Hepheastus! The burlap sunshades are doing a lovely job of keeping the tomatoes from getting sunburned:
These Romas are getting close to picking time, and the Big Boys are doing very nicely as well:

Not only is the burlap working well as shade, it also did a first class job in protecting the plants from that freak hail storm that came from out of nowhere last night! I didn't have a single branch torn down! Let's hear it for burlap!

As I noted before, the cucumbers love to climb the bedsprings I set out for them so much that they've tripled their cuke production. Looks like this weekend will be devoted to dill pickle production--woot! Maybe I can get my nieces to take some of my hands. Oh, and one last thing, if the strawberries don't try to turn us into fruit people, I've got a feeling the cantaloupe will:So, if we start looking a little orange-y and acting too sweet (not to mention, should we start spitting seeds out everytime we talk), you can be sure that we're not fake-baking or on happy pills, we have been taken over by cantaloupes. In that case, get your melon-ballers out, and react accordingly!

My Plants and I are in Complete Agreement: Heat Sucks!

2009-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know I've been gone awhile. It would take far too long to explain, just a little more Life than I'm used to handling, you might say. Sorry about that, I'll do better in the future.

If you think this blog got away from me, you should have seen the garden! I was going to take pictures of it just to show my shame all over the Internet; luckily, the Wonder Hubby talked me out of it. Instead, he persuaded me to help him clean it all up, laying down lots of newspaper and grass clippings to thwart the weeds in their attempt to take over, and cover our poor plants with burlap shade covers so that they don't die from too much sun! The work has been exhausting, but the garden looks much, much better in my estimation. See if you agree:
Kind of looks like how the Republicans would like to treat the homeless, doesn't it? Yet, the burlap, which is available in 30 foot rolls from Lowe's, provides just enough shade to keep your plants from getting sunburned. Yes, plants and vegetables can get sunburned. I found that out the hard way, believe me. But now, everything that needs it has its own shade, and the results speak for themselves.

This is our little cherry tomato plant that grew wild and free in our cold frame over the winter. As you can see, it got a little too wild and free before we could get it caged, but still, we've been able to shade it and more or less corral it. Can you see all the little tomatoes all over it there? We've already picked about half a bucket full from it, and from the looks of things, we'll be doing that again in a couple of days. And just so you know, free tomatoes taste pretty darn good!

Not that the cherry's the only one gotten it going, no sir! Observe:
Proof positive that you needn't have a heatstroke in order to grow a little bit! And here's the beauty of the burlap tents: You don't have to take them down if it rains, the rain goes right on through! Now, that's my kind of gardening: minimum physical labor on the old 'welamom!

I was rather concerned about the cantaloupe I had planted this year, I didn't really think it was going to do anything. Then the Wonder Hubby and I took a 4-day vacation (the annual SCA event, the War of the Lillies, more on that some other post). You can imagine our shock when, upon our return, we discovered that the cantaloupe had apparently suffered a psychotic episode, and now believes itself to be Napolean. Or at least The Brain. As you can see, it is trying to take over the garden:
Maybe it watched "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" while we were gone. That's the only way I can explain these pods that appeared virtually overnight:
This bottom one doesn't look like me......does it? I'm just being paranoid......right? Yeah, it's just a cantaloupe, nothing to worry about.

The snow peas were only a partially successful experiment; we never did get it to where it wanted to grow on the bedsprings we gave it for a trellis. We also didn't get that many peas. I'm thinking that cold and wet weather we had back in April had something to do with that (ahhh! Remember that deliciously cool April weather? *Closes eyes in fond memory*) Umm, where was I? Ah yes, the bedspring/trellis. Turns out the cucumber vines love it! And you know what you get when you have happy cucumber vines, right?

That's right, future pickles!

So now, I think I'm going to ponder what type of squash I should try to grow, it might be a little late for zucchini and yellow squash, but I bet I could grow acorn and spaghetti varieties! And you tell me, do you think it's too late to plant a pumpkin vine? I mean, crazy as the weather has been, we'll probably have a growing season until Christmas, don't you think?

I'm glad I'm back. Hope you all are, too!

No, Really, I'm Still Here!

2009-06-25T23:14:00.000-07:00

I've just been horribly negligent when it comes to my garden blog. No worries, though; tomorrow, regardless of heat and/or humidity or even zombie attack, I will be updating you on the wonders of my garden, and how were coping with the completely communistic heat! I promise!

Meanwhile, Back at the Garden II

2009-06-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

Funny how the world can seem to be spinning out of control, but a garden just keeps chugging along. It's like the plants are saying, "Yeah, we know. Crappy things have happened for you, and I know you're sad. So, here, come look: I pushed an extra flower out.....just for you! Here's the real miracle of Life, my friend: It keeps on going. You and yours, my two-legged friend, you tear yourselves apart over things that won't mean a thing 100 years from now, leaving your descendants to wonder what the fuss was about. My kind work on growing, stretching ourselves as far as we can go, all the while building a solid foundation under us so that 100 years from now, we'll still be here in some form or fashion. Mother Nature is the ultimate recycler, my friend, and your lost loved ones will never truly be gone. So come over here and look at this flower, and if you still find yourself crying, drop your tears over me, I will use that moisture to the best benefit I know: I will make something beautiful with it. And that beauty, I promise you, will help you heal."

I realized this morning that I've been blogging for a year now which, given my lack of long-term commitments (I've made 6 in my whole life: My 3 children, My husband, my 2 college degrees), is saying something. But I find that I enjoy having an outlet, a place to share the garden's progress, and my own. I love being able to write about my Wonder Hubby's ingenuity, our silly mistakes, our glorious successes. Thanks to Douglas and Main and a lot of other local bloggers, I've met new people, forged friendships, learned more than I can possibly absorb in one lifetime, and I've grown food and flowers and love in equal doses. I've discovered other blogs, some of which have petered out, some of which grow like my garden. I like this. I've discovered friends whose writing abilities both thrill me and put me to shame at the same time; I've discovered others who have more fame than they know what to do with, for reasons that must be too osbcure for this old broad to figure out.

But, that's Life, isn't it? And blogging. And I'm going to keep at both of them.

Here's some more pictures. Hope they help you get through the day.

The Lavendar by the Garden Gate is blooming
a year early

The Bibb lettuce is threatening to take over

The mystery tomatoe plant that grew all
winter in the cold frame has revealed
itself to be, you guessed it: A Cherry
tomato plant.

A new asparagus fern for the front step

The new roses in the front have taken very well; I can't wait until they put forth those "bronze" blooms as promised!

My friend Pippa, like Good Dr. Tiller, may
be gone, but her flowers remind me every
day of how much she loved her friends.

The salvia is working hard to take the
place of the tulips that have moved to the
backyard.

What's the Best Way to Announce an Email Addy Change?

2009-06-02T21:14:00.000-07:00

I'm guessing it would be to post it here. After 8 long years, son Gryff's server died, so I've had to move my email account. You can find me at Hywela91@gmail.com. And if I've set everything up right (and there's no proof that I have!), I should still be able to get any comments made on this blog sent to my email. So make a note of my new address, and then comment at the end of this post, to see if I've got the stuff moving right.

As always, points will be given for originality of comment. THANKS, GUYS!!

I'm Just Saying....

2009-06-02T13:21:00.003-07:00

....that there's a whole lot more to a woman than just making babies.

And many thanks to the Blue Eyed Hag for posting this little message on her blog!

A Momentous Day, A Good Day, A Terrible Day

2009-06-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

Today is Day 1 of getting used to the new schedule. With Lachlan now on 1st shift (and I certainly hope that his first day is going well!), I am hoping that by the end of this week, I will be able to get up at a much more reasonable hour, say 8 a.m. Wish me luck in this endeavor.

And today is son Seamus's 25th birthday. That's right, all my friends who remember that ever-giggly redheaded toddler who used to tear through SCA events like he owned them, the baby is a quarter of a century old. Oy! Don't ask me how that happened: I have no idea. I swear I just took him to his first Tae Kwon Do class last week. But no, that was 17 years ago. And now, a 2nd degree black belt and many, many trophies later, he's 25 and studying to be a personal trainer. Wow! Makes your head spin, doesn't it? Happy Birthday, my Son, my Jewel. I'm very, very proud of you!

He went to the candlelight vigil for Dr. George Tiller last night. I raised my children to give people the benefit of the doubt, you see. I raised them not to judge, nor allow themselves to be judged. I raised them in our faith, which understands that sometimes it's all in the timing. And I raised them to believe that a woman has the right to do with her body what she will. So, Seamus, with his fine sensitivity to the sorrow of others, went to pay tribute to a man who was senselessly murdered within the confines of his own church, a place I'm sure was intended to be one of safety. Of peace. Of love.

Not being a Christian, I'm rather unsure of just how murder inside a church is dealt with. I know how Thomas a' Becket's murder was handled, but that was in the 12th Century in a Catholic church, and I'm pretty sure that Lutherans in the 21st Century handle things a bit differently. I feel for Dr. Tiller's friends and family, though; I feel for the congregation of what is, by all accounts, a beautiful church with a regular attendance of good, caring people. I hope they can, as a group, heal.

And I can't help but put things in a bit of a selfish perspective: When we moved out here from Ohio, Dr. Tiller had just taken over his father's practice. I don't know how many of you are aware of this, but the good doctor's father, mother and sister had been killed in a plane crash that had also taken out Wichita State University's football team. We needed a family doctor, he came well-recommended, so we began seeing him for our medical needs. I found him to be nice, a tad formal, but altogether an okay guy.

I'm allergic to bee stings, an inconvenience back then, rather more serious these days. I got stung by a bee the Autumn of 1972 and for months afterwards, I had boils and other unpleasantness to deal with. About the time of my birthday of my birthday in 1973, I had a particularly nauseous one erupt over my left eyebrow. I did all the things I was supposed to do, but it didn't get better. It got worse. By the time I went to see Dr. Tiller, it was poisoning my system. It had managed to create a hole in my skull and was threatening to go into meningitis. Back then, there wasn't many options once meningitis set in. So Dr. Tiller ensconced me in Wesley Hospital (the first time I ever dealt with that rabbit warren), and literally saved my life. Two people, my sons, exist because he saved my life. And one of them went last night to pay tribute to a man who was brave and conscientious, giving and determined, and who made it possible for him to exist in the first place.

The Wonder Hubby and I ran into Dr. Tiller several years ago, I don't remember where just now. I walked up to him and said, "I bet you don't remember me," and he reached over and moved my hair so that he could see the scar over my left eyebrow. He said, "That healed well," and we hugged. I thanked him again and introduced Lachlan to him. He chatted with us for a few minutes and then we went our separate ways.

I know Dr. Tiller was a symbol to many people: Some revered him, some reviled him. Me, I just remember him putting me in the hospital when I was sick, and saving my life. I think saving lives was what motivated him then, and I think that was what motivated him throughout the rest of his career. And I hope there's another Dr. Tiller out there somewhere, willing to put their life on the line to give desperate women a lifeline, a shoulder for them to lean on.

And I sincerely hope that they hang his assassin from the scrotum with bailing wire. I've no "other cheek" to turn, you see; not in this case. I don't have to forgive to feel better, and I don't intend to: Even though I know Dr. Tiller already has forgiven the guy. I'm not as good a human as he was.

Please, rest in peace, Dr. George. And everyone, pray to the deity of your choice for the Reformation Lutheran Church and its congregation.

I Didn't Know that Joy Could Make You Numb

2009-05-29T14:29:00.000-07:00

I had all sorts of deeply profound words of wisdom to dispense in today's blog, but they all flew out of my brain when the Wonder Hubby informed me that, after almost 4 years, he is being transferred to 1st shift on Monday. Do you have any idea what this means, Gentle Reader? It means that:

WE CAN HAVE A LIFE AGAIN!!!!!

We can see friends during the week; we can go to Populace meetings for the local SCA group; we can go to a movie if we want; we don't have to wait until the weekend to get around-the-house projects done.................

OMG! We can be part of the world again! We could even take over the world!!!

BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!

*deep breath* Shoo! That was intense!! (gasp!)

At the very least, we can actually choose what to do each evening.....*raising eyebrows in a provocative manner*

I'm so happy, I'm giddy! Or maybe just ditzy! Who knows--who cares? Doesn't matter! We get our lives back!

WOOT!!!

(Ooohhh, I think I'd better go lie down........*watching Earth revolve*)

There are Worse Things than the Zoo.....

2009-05-27T13:01:00.000-07:00

....like this crappy day, for example. And the reason I compare this day to the Sedgwick County Zoo, is because we were there Sunday, and Sunday was a beautiful day! So, instead of dwelling on sore joints, painful muscles and 58 degrees with clouds, I'm going to show you the pictures that the Wonder Hubby took at the zoo. To wit:
Wichita has, arguably, one of the best zoos in the country. I've watched it expand over the years from what was basically a Children's farm to a haven for endangered species, like my friends here, the Humboldt Penguins.

I'm a big reptile/amphibian fan, and the herpetarium at the zoo, though small, is first rate:

This one tank, for example had turtles, fish, and many other critters of the sort-of amphibious kind.
Here's a close up of one of the inmates:

Our zoo has gotten so large, in fact, that it's getting rather hard to see all of it in one day.

Especially when you move like this guy, which I tend to do these days.

So, we didn't even try; we just went to our personal favorites, and the new exhibit, which is the Tiger Trek. It's wonderful! They have a lot of room to roam about, a lot of information in easy to read and digest tidbits, and of course, the stars of the show:
"Yes," she says, "I am fabulous. Thank you for noticing!" And I've got to admit for newcomers to Kansas, they certainly know how to handle the Kansas climate:That picture's a little hard to make out, feel free to click on it if you need, but both males were in the water up to their necks, looking at us humans with something akin to pity, if you ask me. As though they were saying "Dudes, it's hot! What are you doing out of the water?" Quite hilarious, yet extremely practical, don't you think?

As usual, the Wonder Hubby took so many excellent pictures that there is no way to post all of them, but I will leave you with a sample of them, as well as a question:

The gorillas were digging the shade.
The dragons were trying to win the Rock Imitation
Contest.

This guy was trying to catch a rabbit appertif.
The flamingos were a tad livelier.

I've always said let sleeping meerkats lie.

There's something to be said for letting sleeping lions lie, too!.

And we all know the elephants and their pandering ways;

BUT

While in the South American exhibit, we kept hearing this whistling sound; like, well.....like the whistle of a dropping bomb: That whistle that starts out high, and then drops down the scale to the lowest sound, right before the "poof!" We finally traced it down to this guy:Quite the fashion plate, isn't he? I mean, black never goes out of style, and one certainly must have that certain "jons se quoit" to pull off such a vibrant yellow, doesn't one? Here's another shot, just so you can see the curled feathers on top of his head:Makes you wonder if he's had a perm, doesn't it? And although we looked all over, we never did find a sign that identified this couple, so we don't know what kind of bird this is exactly. Does any of my Gentle Readers out there have a clue what he is? Inquiring minds want to know!

Oh, and go see the Zoo. Buy a membership! That's what we've got planned!

Sorry for the Rain Delay...

2009-05-26T18:30:00.001-07:00

...or should I say, threat of rain delay? I overdid big time this weekend, I'm in a lot of pain, so no real post today, but I will try to catch you up on this past weekend tomorrow!

Lots of Blather, Very Little Content

2009-05-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

Another day in the land of Doo-dah! And just what might that mean, you ask? It means that the sun is currently shining, which could change in 15 minutes, the wind is blowing (that hardly ever changes!) and an aircraft company has announced additional layoffs (Hawker Beechcraft is laying off another 150 people; jerks! If they were really good at business, they'd find a way to keep people employed, not consider them cannon fodder for their stockholders' reassurance!)

You know, I got to hand it to the newest plane maker in town; at least Spirit Aerosystems tries to hang onto its workforce! I was a little nervous when Lachlan went to work for an aircraft company again, but so far, they've treated him about as well as any company treats its workers. AND he's still got a job, which is saying something in this town. All the other aircraft companies think: "My God! We're losing money! Lay off eleventy thousand people!" Spirit doesn't. I just wish the name was a little more....butch, you know? Something like "Our Planes are Phallic Symbols" Aerosystems, or something.....I don't know. I'm just rambling......

But I was thinking: I'm not sure that "lay-off eleventy thousand" strategy is going to work so well for much longer. Companies haven't really started noticing yet, but they're starting to have to deal with Millenials as their work force, not Baby Boomers. Boomers would put up with that endless rollercoaster ride of lay offs and call backs; I'm not sure Millenials will. They might just say "Lay offs blow! I'm going to take my toys and play somewhere else!" Then where will the planemakers be? It's hard to make planes with no workers, isn't it? And then there's the endless overtime that Boomers just budget into their regular household finances: They actually buy big ticket items based on the probable overtime they'll be getting. Which is fine, I guess--until the old overtime rug gets pulled out from under them when there's a dramatic turn for the worse in the world economy. Then, it's head for the hills, boys! The s**t is hitting the fan! And talking about Millenials: They just aren't that enamored with overtime. Most of them say "Umm, yeah, extra money would be nice, but I gotta have some fun time, too!" And if you try to mandate overtime, they just quit and get a job somewhere else. So, the future may not be so rosy for planemakers and their relations with their workers. You can tell them all I warned them......

Son Gryffud and his tonsils had a major falling out a couple of weeks ago. So major, that he had them evicted yesterday. He's fine; it's a little weird that my son had, at the age of 32, had the very same operation that I'd had by the time I was 3, but all is well. He now faces a future with less illness--I hope. You know, I tried to get the doctors to take them out when he was small, but they were all like "No, it's better to leave them in." And I was saying "Really? It's better for him to have sore throats all the time?" And they would say, "Oh yes. The tonsils get the infection so that the rest of the body doesn't." Then I would ask "What part of the rest of the body? What if the other part of the body can shake off infections better than his tonsils can?" And then they would pat me on the head and tell me it's technical. End result: He had to wait until he was an adult, and his tonsils had halfway rotted in his head........and they ended up taking them out. I could've saved about 30 years of hassle for the kid, but hey, what do I know? It's technical, after all.

And son Seamus is doing magnificently in college. He's studying to be a personal trainer, and I've got to say, the kid is getting pretty buff. I thought he was looking fabulous........and then he went and cut off all of his hair, and shaved his mustache and goatee! AAAaaaarrrrrggghhh!!!! All he's got left is this sort-of miniature mohawk in the middle of the top of his head, which he lacquers into submission so that it stands straight up!!! He tells me he looks outrageously gorgeous; I think he looks like the mascot for the old Big Boy restaurants. Now I know how my parents felt about my brother's hair and my hippie clothes....

Okay, so I strayed far from the subject of my garden, but it's doing just fine, and I had all these thoughts in my head, so I dumped them here today. Isn't that what a blog is for? Thought-dumps?

I've got a lot of hand sewing I should be doing (and no, Dawn, I don't mean I'm sewing my hands! Smart butt!), and this isn't getting it done. So, I'll sign off for now; I'm sure that tomorrow I will be back to talking about plants and compost and all that, but you never know, do you?

I may leave the plants out, and just talk more compost.

Happy Birthday, my Lachlan!

2009-05-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

LOVE POEM FOR A SCOTTISH MAN katy red

He Sleeps
And I watch him
And I love him
And he sleeps

He Smiles
And it thrills me
And it moves me
And he smiles

He touches
And I shudder
And I crave
And he touches

He joins
And I move
Oh, how I move
And he joins

He caresses
And I growl
And I stretch
And I writhe
And he caresses

He soothes
But it builds in me
The need, it builds in me
When he soothes.

We come
And the Stars know
And the Gods know
And the Past knows
And the Future knows
And all is well.
9/23/08

Tomatoes In! Back Out!

2009-05-14T14:05:00.000-07:00

That sort-of evens out, doesn't it? Maybe not, I don't know, but then the sum total of what I don't know is staggering. The point is, that there are now 10 tomato plants safely ensconced in my back yard with accompanying marigolds to keep the insect population at bay. Ta-daahh! *bowing* Thank you! Thank you! Ooohhh, don't bow so deep, Red, I think you strained something!

Now, I'd like to point out that I actually got those plants in without the help of the Wonder Hubby, thereby freeing him up to clean up his garage. *drops to a whisper:* And don't tell the garage, but progress was made, 'cause I can actually see the floor! If you say something loudly about it, though, the garage will surely notice and promptly mess everything up again. They're like that, you know. You can't trust them as far as you can throw them! *dropping voice even lower* Good job, Honey! *sneaking away from garage door*

So, of course I've got pictures to show. Two neat rows of tomato plants with Janie Flame marigolds between. Looks very neat, don't you think? I do, too!
The marigolds did such an awesome job of keeping the bugs off my tomatoes last year that I just had to put them back again this year. I don't want to have to use bug spray like I did last year against the squash bugs (Story here), so I'm willing to plant a few extra plants to keep the insect level down. Besides, I happen to like marigolds! They're pretty! I hear that nasturtiums are good at keeping the evil insects at bay, too, but I'm just not as enamored of them. But I can look at marigolds all the live long day and never strain a pupil. So, it's all good.

Now this morning, the Wonder Hubby and I got up and laid down newspapers and grass clippings to keep our walkways weed-free. I really needed his help today; apparently my body views bending over as a punishable offense! The backs of my legs are informing me that they own muscles--in very loud, no uncertain terms! Remember, we got this method of weed control from the Book, I'm giving you a link to that particular entry here in case you want to try it yourself. It's a great way to use grass cuttings, get rid of old newspapers, control weeds and keep Kansas safe from communism! Okay, maybe not so much that last one, but you get the idea! Man, I'm just a linking fool today, aren't I? Hope your fingers are up to the link aerobics today!

So, here I sit, feeling pretty accomplished for a change. I think I may even have a little energy left over for possibly some vacuuming. Let's all hope that me feeling this way isn't one of the first signs of the impending Apocalypse!

Oh, and for all you catlovers out there, here's our Maigo doing his take on LOL cats:

A Star is Born!

All Together Now: OUCH!!!!!!

2009-05-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

*limp-step* *limp-step* *easy! sitting down in chair* *fingers-cramp* uh-oh! I can't type! My fingers are all cramped up! What do I do? Wait....I'll try to type with my nose..... Helno! How ith ebreynubby noin'? Thith ithn't workning, ith it? Otay, let me trny somening elth.....How's this? Better? Okay, we'll see how long I can type just using my thumbs.....

So, maybe, just maybe I worked a little too hard in the garden yesterday. And why would I say such a thing, you might ask? Possibly because today every joint in my body is screaming at me!! I didn't know my body even knew such language! Makes me wonder where it hangs out when it's not with me...

Lots of things got accomplished yesterday, though, and I think that makes all the soreness today worth it. We got everything planted but the tomatoes, so that's not too bad, is it? Here's some shots of the garden to show off our efforts:

Look carefully and you'll see one of our
strawberry plants I think the blackberry's taken well,
don't you?

One of two bell pepper plants
The other bell pepper (he was moping)
And here's our potato patch, cleverly disguised as a pile of cut grass:
Now all this work was possible because my darling Lachlan took another day off of work! He told me to get a good look at him because this was the last time I'd see him before summer vacation! And as hard as they've been working at the plant, I'm sure he's right. So, thank you, Love, for all your hard work yesterday. I hope you're not screaming in pain tonight!

Since we really didn't need a rototiller to loosen the earth back up, in spite of the monsoon season we've been enjoying (is that really the term I'm looking for? Enjoying? I didn't think so!), Lachlan borrowed this nifty little mini-rototiller attachment that my dad has for his weedeater. It wouldn't work for a major operation, but it did just fine to loosen up the earth in the garden for planting. And we saved money because Dad's yet to charge us for renting it. Thanks, Pop!

Now, if you look carefully in this next picture, you'll see a tiny little green yellow plant. Believe it or not, that's a melon plant, and if Reader Dave is right (and I certainly have no reason to doubt him!), I'm going to have to give this little guy a trellis of some kind to grow on, or he's going to eat the rest of the garden. So, today or tomorrow (and it'll probably be tomorrow; today, my legs are on strike!), I'm going to have to rummage around and see what I can find that can be made into a melon jungle gym. Remember, this year's theme is reduce, re-use, recycle so I'm going to try and avoid buying a trellis. Although.....I might have an old piece of trellis in the shed. I'll have to check....after it stops raining, of course......Bwahahahaha!!!! Whooo, that made me laugh!! "After it stops raining! Hah! Like that's going to happen. *shakes head as limp-steps away!* "Stop raining....*snerk!*

But the herb pot is re-populated:

It's now the proud home of flat leaf parsley, chamomile and dill; as well as the thyme and oregano that survived over the winter.

And the cucumbers are now installed behind the snow peas:
And all we have left is to put in the tomato plants and their marigold buddies to keep the insects in check. Oh yeah, and I still need to decide where to put the pole beans. Oh, and I've got to paint the old smoker yet so I can use it to plant the other herbs I have, the purple basil and the sweet basil. And the yarrow, for tea. Oh, and I still have to finish laying the newspapers down for my walking rows while the plants are still small, and then cover them with cut grass--keeps the weeds down. Oh, and there's still some mulching to do. Oh, oh, oh.......oh, I think I'll just go watch it rain.

All Right Plants! Prepare to Meet Thy.......um, Dirt

2009-05-11T08:50:00.000-07:00

Now I had intended to write before now (yeah, yeah, you've heard it all before, I know) BUT there were mitigating circumstances towering before me. Like what, I'm sure you're asking yourself. Well, like the fact that Lachlan the Wonder Hubby took Friday off! (And you thought all that cheering was for the Sundowners' Parade at the River Festival, didn't you? WRONG!!!) AND, not only did he take the day off, but he took me to Nature's Way on Kellogg to buy some veggies and herbs!!! So needless to say, I was a bit distracted. Today, though, armed with plants, tools, pain medication (more on that some other time!) and a somewhat nebulous idea on where I want things growing, we take the big step and dig!

So what am I planting? You knew I'd have pictures, now didn't you? Just look at these:
Aren't these strawberry plants just beautiful? I got four of them, mostly because I'm not sure how well they grow in this clay bed/potential art exhibit we call soil on this side of Doo-dah. Unfortunately, the Book; you know, the Book: The Vegetable Gardener's Bible by Edward C. Smith, available here, doesn't really go into much detail as to a strawberry's likes and dislikes other than to say that it likes it's pH acidic 5.0 to 7.5. I'm guessing a little extra research is in my future. Maybe some coffee grounds, or would that affect the fruits' flavor? I'll check.

I also got me some herbs for cooking, I think these will come in mighty handy because the Wonder Hubby has expressed a bit of interest in period cooking. Remember folks, we're historical reenactors, and by "period cooking" I mean dishes that would have been served to important folk prior to 1600 CE. (or AD, take your pick). Now, I don't want to push him because he's just taking his first baby steps, but should he care to explore the subject further, I want as many tools available to him as possible. Now, Europeans prior to 1600 liked their spices and herbs. I've read that this was due to the desire to cover the taste of spoiled meat, but I'm not sure I buy that explanation completely. Kings seldom had to eat spoiled meat, and they loved their food spicy! I therefore suspect that there was a little more to period spice consumption....but anyway (sorry, I tend to wander off when it comes to talking about medieval things); should my loving husband want to do more, I've got the spices for him:
You are looking at purple basil, dill, yarrow, flat-leafed parsley, german chamomile and lemon basil. I think that should liven up the old cuisine around here, don't you? Especially when you add the thyme, oregano and rosemary we already had in the backyard. Look out, King Henry VIII, Jenny Craig is off your menu!

And of course, I got some tomato plants:You are looking at two Celebrities, four Romas, and two lemons. With the mystery tomato plant that survived all winter in the cold frame, we're talking about nine tomato plants! Rather more than I had intended but, I think I can do some canning and more marinara sauce making this year, so it should be fine. "fine" she mutters as she wanders off, *twitch! twitch!*

The new things we're trying this year, besides the strawberry plants are cantaloupes:
Aren't they just the cutest little things? Now according to the lady at Nature's Way, they should grow into some good-sized vines with really large melons. I know it's hard to believe looking at them now, but she says so, and I believe her! Oh and hey! A word about Nature's Way: Them's good people! I've purchased plants from them several times over the years, and I've yet to buy a dud. The folks there are knowledgeable and very helpful. I quite like them. It's kind of a pain in the keester to get to them right now, due to the construction at Rock and Kellogg, but it's worth the trouble, believe me!

We're going to try cucumbers again in a different part of the garden. So, what with all the lettuces and snow peas, carrots and spinach I've already got in the garden, it looks to be a productive year. Oh yeah, and the potatoes, musn't forget the potatoes. I'm only hoping that I'll still have room for the squashes I want to try and for another go at pumpkins. You know when I first envisioned a vegetable garden last year, I never dreamed that I would use up so much space! This is a hoot!

fist to sky Enough, Already!!!

2009-05-05T13:19:00.000-07:00

So, after a somewhat useless night of tossing and turning, I finally got some sleep....at about 8 am. Yeah, early starts are borderline miracles around here anymore. You can imagine my utter shock and complete amazement to find that it was raining again! yeah, no sarcasm here, oh no! Now, far be it from me to suggest that maybe Mother Nature's got it in for Kansas in general, or Doo-dah in particular, but DAMN!!!! Enough of the waterworks, already! I promise I'll grow things if You turn the faucet off for a couple of days. Whatdya' say, there, Nature? Anything? Nothing? *sigh* Wonder if I should invest in a good pair of Wellingtons? Or water wings? Scuba gear would be too expensive, wouldn't it? *shaking head as I splorch off into the sunset....*

Yet, in spite of the skies' plans to drown us in our sleep, I did manage to plant the blackberry plant. And, of course, by "I", I mean that "he", the Wonder Hubby, did the digging. Thanks again, oh Scion of Husband-hood!! As planned, we placed it on the southeast side of the garden, opting to put it just outside the garden instead of in. The reason for this is that several family members and friends in Seattle have mentioned that blackberries grow very well up there, and apparently wherever they damn well please! As my oh-so wonderful friend, Lizzie put it: "Up there, blackberry plants come in and take over, beating up the other plants and stealing their lunch money!" I doubt that it will do that down here, but I am hopeful that it will at least produce berries. More than that, I dare not hope for. I will point out, though, that I'd rather be cutting back a blackberry bush than dealing with that damned ornamental grass that the previous owner of our house planted. That crap is worse than kudzu!! I've heard piteous cries for mercy from my peppermint plant towards that grass! Imagine a plant that overwhelm mint!!!

So, anyway, here's the blackberry in its newly-planted glory:

We got it in the ground and I said to the Wonder Hubby "At least we don't have to water it!" He said, no, we don't. But the dogs probably will. Ooo. Not good. But, for once, I had the solution:

The sawhorses needed moving anyway, because I want to plant the tulips there. So now I'll just have to wait for the rain to back off a bit so I can get them back in the ground. It's either that or keep them in a cool, dry place on the ark we're going to start constructing this weekend.....

Oh, and I'd like to thank Reader Dave for his suggestion about the sulfur and coffee grounds for the blackberry plant. I will be utilizing both your suggestions, and please, if you see me about to commit some sort of gardening criminal act, don't hesitate to let me know. This is only my second year of gardening, and I am still pretty much a novice!

And apparently I spoke too soon in welcoming Douglas and Main back to the active blogosphere, because I checked it just an hour ago, and it was still showing commentary on yesterday's blogs. Do you guys need some help? I mean, there's only so much a poor fibromyalgic gardener/seamstress can do when it's raining.....

I'm just saying

Avast, Ye Stomach Bug!! Take that! Poke-poke!

2009-05-04T11:28:00.000-07:00

And it's not even "International Talk Like a Pirate Day"! (That's not until September 19th. Mark your calendars now! I did!) Yes, in spite of this whatever-I've-got and its mad attempts to keep me chained to the couch, or the toilet, depending on the time of day; I managed to break free from such fetters yesterday, and actually do a little yardwork! Take that, Oh nasty-bug-in-my-tummy! *Imaginary sword thrusts to foe's vulnerable spots*....oh wait, I don't actually own a sword....I do have a 14th Century Scottish war hammer, though! *Imaginary thrusts with a war hammer towards foe's vulnerable spots!* What? Well, of course I do! Don't you have a 14th Century Scottish War Hammer? Ours was a gift! What did you say? No, I don't think that's odd....you're not in the SCA, are you?......*walks off muttering*

Anyway, since the rain machine was temporarily down yesterday, the Wonder Hubby and I got out in the yard to take care of a few items of business. I don't know exactly why it is that my yard projects end up turning into his sore back episodes; maybe that Southern attitude of his has something to do with it. (You know, that whole "Stand back, Little Lady, and Let the Men-folk do the Heavy Stuff" mentality? It's going to be the death of him. I'm serious! No one will be more surprised than me if his death certificate does NOT state "Death by Misadventure: His wife wanted a koi pond.") He helped me dig up my tulip bulbs from around the front yard light...okay, he dug them up, I watched; we replaced them with salvia: One: because I like the color of the blooms, a nice light purple, and two: those blooms are so small that I rather suspect (and hope!) that the kids next door won't be able to pick them.

After that, my back was screaming the "Hallelujah chorus" in 12 part disharmony, but we (and by "we" I mean "he") managed to plant two rose bushes up close to the house. I seriously can't wait for them to bloom because they're supposed to be a bronze color, of all things--something I've never seen! AND they're supposed to still have a fragrance. I haven't had much luck with rose hybrids and fragrances, so we'll see what happens. They got thoroughly buried with compost and some good soil, so I'm very hopeful that they'll thrive. Now comes the least favorite part of planting, as far as I concerned, the waiting.....

Funny how roses look deader than disco when you plant them, isn't it? You can barely make them out in these pictures. You will be getting updates on their progress though, don't worry! They won't look like this for long!

A friend asked me if Patty's flowers came up again this year: I'm happy to report that they have, and they look to be healthier than last year. If you don't know the story of my friend Patty and the flowers that I'm convinced she left as a good-bye message, you can find it in last year's post here. She was a darling friend who passed away from cancer a year ago last March; her favorite colors were hot pink and red. Low and behold, two months after her death, we found hot pink and red dianthus growing in the front yard, where, needless to say, we didn't plant them. As you can see, they are back with a vengeance, and the Wonder Hubby and I have decided that we are going to cut them a little flower bed of their own, frame it with timbers like the other flower beds are, just so they can live there as long as they like. If we frame them, they can live without fear of the lawn mower! That will probably be a project for this weekend. Don't worry, I'll take pictures; I always keep you posted on the latest and greatest, don't I? That's what friends do, after all! :-)

I'm also including here a picture of the blackberry plant that will now live in the southeast corner of the veggie garden out back. As you can see, it's raring to go: Hopefully, I can get it into the ground either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. I just love the idea of homegrown blackberry preserves or blackberry pie. Or, ooo, wait----homemade blackberry muffins! OOOOooooooOOOOooooo! Forget the diet, Lachlan, we're going to be pudgy little sexy people come Fall! Fun, fun, fun!!! *skipping away, all a-bouncy!*

Did I tell you that I've decided where to put my tulips? Yeah, I'm moving them to the back yard since the kids next door can't seem to resist them (okay, they're just little bitties, let's not get too all-over them about this!) I'm going to put them next to my lovely purple lilacs:

Aren't they gorgeous this year? Especially when you consider that they were accidentally planted there, they are doing just swe.......yeah, they were accidentally planted. The guy across the street gave us a whole sack full of irises several years ago, and not really having anyplace to store them, I stuck them out back next to the side of the house for the time being. Now, they were still in the paper sack. By the time I got back to them (admittedly, a couple of months later), they had grown through the sack and planted themselves there. We could move them, but they look good there, don't they? So, I'll just move that sawhorse and plant my tulips next to them there on the right. Maybe I'll even frame them with some more irises. I was going to put a small Elizabethan kitchen herb garden there, but sometimes you just got to plant things because they're pretty, right?

This afternoon, after a brisk nap, will (hopefully) be devoted to cutting out material for the construction of tunics. My hands hate me--all this typing is putting them in an ugly mood, let me tell you, but I'm going to give it a go. Wish me luck!

Oh, and hey, Douglas and Main! Good to see you back! Everybody shout: Bobby Rozell lives!!! *snicker!*

Off a-workity, I go!

News Flash! (deet-da-deet-deet, da-deet-dit-deet

2009-05-02T21:47:00.000-07:00

News Flash: Oprah reveals on her show last Friday that Kirstie Alley has put on almost all the weight she lost shilling for Jenny Craig. The entire world reacts with a "Who the hell cares?"

No film at eleven.

That is all.

Mayday! Mayday!

2009-05-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

....no, no emergency--it really is May Day! Or Beltaine for those of us of the alternative ilk. Or the birthday of the Society for Creative Anachronism that I'm always talking about. And you would think that those three facts would make it a busy day for me, wouldn't you? But, in point of fact, I've spent most of the day on the couch huddled up in a blanket. Wet, rainy, cool days are no fun for the fibromyalgic amongst us, believe me!

There's so much I should be doing: the garden, sewing (the SCA has a big war coming up in June that we are determined to attend; hence, we need more tunics), housework--I keep expecting the Board of Health to show up on my doorstep with a court order and a steam shovel. I've got to get well! I've simply got to!! I went back to the doctor on Wednesday (I think), and got poked and prodded for more testing material. Frankly, I suspect they're running out of things to check. Pretty soon they'll be making tests up: "Yes ma'am. We're going to have to take some..um....well, let's see....let's try a skin sample and some hair follicles from your uh.....from your uh.....from your shoulder! Yeah, that should do it!" "Why are you testing hair from my shoulder--does my shoulder even have hair?" "Does your shoulder have hair.....why, that's what we're testing! Yes, indeed, a lack of shoulder hair would indicate um, um....um, umerus patesco!" "OMG, that sounds serious! What does that mean?" "It means "naked shoulder" in Latin!" "Is that serious?" "Is it serious? Why, just ask your shoulder if it wants to be naked!" You see what I mean?

On the garden front, I forgot to mention in my last post that we (the Wonder Hubby and I) had also purchased a blackberry plant that we were going to try and grow. I wasn't sure if Kansas was the right place to try this, so I called my dad to ask. He said that he's pretty sure that he and Mom could grow one, then he added that my Mom could grow hair on an onion. (Maybe I should get her to look at my shoulder.....) So, I figure if my mom can grow one, I probably could, too. We're going to give it a shot, anyway. (No, there's nothing wrong with my shoulder--I made that up.) I'm thinking I'll plant it on the south side of the garden, and see if it takes. Wish me some luck, somebody!

On the personal front, son Seamus told us this morning that he and girlfriend Em have called off their engagement. I can't say I'm terribly surprised by this, but I will say that I'm rather saddened by it. We've gotten very fond of Em, and I'm rather sorry that she's not going to be part of the family after all. It's an amicable parting, though; they're still friends, and she has no plans to move out immediately, which is fine by me. I enjoy her company. I will say this,though; if that ex-girlfriend of his shows back up, I will personally rip her lips off! A more thoroughly depressing and snarky individual you have never met in your life! She was smart enough to suck up to my parents (and they were foolish enough to buy it, which is most unusual; usually they see right through that crap!), BUT she was a real snot to us! I know it's not my business to pick and choose my children's companions, but if that little monster shows back up, I will be forced to invest in a voodoo doll! Heads up, Snarkerella, you've had fair warning!

I guess the only way I'm going to be able to properly venerate this wonderful (?) May Day is to try to drag my tired butt into the kitchen and cook up something special. Something festive...and still incorporating the B.R.A.T diet*. Sounds challenging, doesn't it?

Happy Beltaine! Happy May Day! Enjoy, and cover up your shoulders!

It couldn't hurt....

*the B.R.A.T diet is "Bananas, Rice, Apples (usually applesauce) and Toast. This is what you should give to your kids when they're suffering from diarrhea. It's drastic, but it usually clears the old system up in no time! It should also give you a clue as to how I've lost 10 pounds in two weeks....

Ah, the Ridiculousness of Weather

2009-04-28T06:58:00.000-07:00

Please understand that I gave up on trying to figure out Kansas weather a very long time ago; but as I am writing this, it is April 28th at 9:00 in the morning and--a freaking 43 degrees outside!! If you will recall, this time last week, it was about 72 degrees. A bit of a difference, wouldn't you say? Just a tad, maybe? *shakes head in wonder and disbelief*

At least the garden is going well! What little I've managed to plan--mesculin mix, a couple of other lettuces, some more carrots and snow peas--is all up and growity. Observe:

When you add the stuff that was growing in the cold frames, you have a pretty good salad going already!:

Oh, and remember our little mystery tomato plant that grew in the middle of my bibb lettuce cold frame? Well, it's still going strong! Now that it's out of its enclosure, it's even blooming!

So it looks like we'll be enjoying tomatoes about a month sooner than anyone else. And you know, I'm okay with that! *evil grin*

Now, assuming I can actually get out in the yard and work today (and it's gonna have to do a little better than 43 degrees for that to happen, let me tell you!), the first thing I'm going to have to tackle is moving my tulips from the front yard to the back. I have a lovely little combo of black, pink and white tulips planted around our yard light in the front yard. I'd show you a picture of them, but this combination has proven irresistible to the children next door, and for the second year in a row, my blooms were picked before I got a chance to properly enjoy them. I'd get angry, but seriously, what are you going to do? They're just little kids, they don't know any better, and I seem to recall picking some of the neighbors' flowers for my mom when I was about their age. Nobody yelled at me, so I'll just pass that favor on and remove the temptation to a more inaccessible location. However, I also have a whole batch of miniature irises planted on that side of my house, and I may have to take drastic measures to keep them from getting looted as well. Do you think an electric fence is too extreme?

I think I'm going to go fix a pot of coffee and drink a couple of cups while watching the Weather Channel. Once I see it hit 50 degrees, I may just be able to get out into this lovely (?) Spring weather.

Oh, and for the curious, I think the bedsprings/trellis is going to work fine:Who knew that recycling could be so cute?

Well, Piffle!

2009-04-22T15:33:00.000-07:00

Whatever this stomach bug I've taken in is still getting me down! When one is endeavoring to be Green, one should not be Green around the gills! Hocky-spit! Not to worry, oh Garden Fans, the garden is still in the backyard, and it's still going great guns without me! And if I can ever get shed of this ick feeling, I'll be writing more to show one and all the latest efforts! (I wonder if I can give this gunk to someone who deserves it? Anyone want to volunteer a less-than-Green individual? I won't tell who nominated them, I promise!)

In the meantime: Happy Earth Day! Everyone go be green!

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's a Workity I Go!

2009-04-20T10:28:00.000-07:00

I can feel a little energy creeping slowly back into me, somewhat like a reluctant child on his way to Sunday School. It's a better feeling than it sounds! Since the Wonder Hubby and I have managed to cut through a few layers of dust and pet hair inside the house, I thought I'd take a little break and then do some work on the flower beds in the front yard. The veggie garden in the back looks off to a promising start--it certainly got enough rain this weekend!--so I need to see if I can grow flowers as well.

I think shasta daisies and black-eyed susans will look grand out front! We'll see, won't we?

I'm having an internal debate about trying to start some tomato plants from seed one last time before resigning myself to buying starts. In my heart, I'm just sure I can do this, but I'm not sure how well I'd handle yet another disappointment in this area. It's getting to be like the story about the guy who ran into a wall; got up, dusted himself off and did it again. He kept doing this until another guy came up and asked him "Why do you keep running into that wall?" and the first guy replies "Because it feels so good when I stop!" There's probably some simple little trick that I haven't caught onto yet--some little signal you give the tomato seeds so that they won't die off when you try to move them to larger pots, but nobody's sent me the signal yet. No one's even sent me the decoder ring! Ah well, I've got the tools and the seeds; I'll probably try again. Pictures are sure to follow.....

I've decided I'm going to try to grow potatoes this year after all. People (thank you, Karen, Ettiennette and many others!) have assured me that it isn't too late to put them out; so come the paycheck this Thursday, I'm going to go buy some seed potatoes. Maybe some strawberries, too. I wonder if Hillside Feed and Seed will have either? Have to give them a call later...... Oh yeah, I need more spinach seeds, too. I'd better make a list (A list! A list! I need a list....) Sorry, my mind is still wandering too easily for serious writing attempts. I'm not sure that being sick a couple of weeks ago has anything to do with that, however..

At any rate, I'm off to find my sunglasses and get out in the awesome sunshine! Maybe if I soak in some of that glorious warmth, my back will stop screaming at me. And maybe Brad and Angelina will show up on our doorstep with a six-pack of canola oil and an open attitude! (yeah, like this chubby little ol' lady would ever show her nakedness to compare with Angelina's--there's not enough medication in the world to make that happen! But, it's a fun thought!)

Have fun y'all! And remember: Earth Day is the 22nd. Mark your calendars to go be earthy that day! (Wait--what? That didn't come out right.....)

As I Creep My Way Out of the Mental Fog.....

2009-04-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

...I find my way towards gardening progress. This morning we finally moved the cold frames out of the garden itself, revealing the last of the stuff that was kept alive all winter:

There's actually a tomato plant there amongst the lettuce on the left, it never bloomed in the box, but I'm going to see if it will now. And I now have to decide if I'm going to try to start my own tomatoes, or go buy starter plants. There's some trick to starting your own that I don't seem to have down yet: Some way to hold your mouth, or some incantation to chant, possibly some sacrificial victim I'm omitting (I have a list on unknowing volunteers if it comes to that, though! They'll never be missed!) I just don't know whether to keep trying, or give in to the inevitable, and go buy tomatoes already up and on their way. I have a low tolerance for frustration, but a great love of bragging. It's a tough decision....

Now, the Grand Rapids stuff went crazy in the box:So my plan is to just plant some more in that vicinity, and keep munching on the green stuff. I've still got plenty of seeds from Hillside Feed and Seed--I can't say enough about those people! Decent prices, good quality plant stock and veritable wellspring of information. (And no, I'm not getting any kickbacks from them, they're just that good!) If you're in the Wichita area and have some gardening in your future, I recommend that you run, not walk down to their little store. Tell that 'wela says hi! and she'll be seeing them soon.

Also got the bedsprings completely painted, and with the help of the Wonder Hubby, we set it in place in the garden. Since we still had some snow pea vines, we got them started on their climb. Hopefully, we'll get some more peas out of them. I also planted the last of my seeds along there, I think the contrast between the blue and the green of the vines will be pretty. My neighbors seem to think I'm a little on the "not-nearly-medicated-enough" side, but it's my garden, so nyah!

Looking through my seeds, I see that I need more variety of salad greens and I also want some more carrots. I want some green beans, too--lots of those, 'cause I'm hoping to can them. And I'm also wondering if it's too late to plant potatoes? I'll bet it's not. Planning the garden is almost as much fun as planting the garden!

Tomorrow, if I'm a little stronger than today, I'm going to get some more planting done, and see if I can't finally narrow my list of "must haves" down to a manageable number. And if it doesn't rain, I should probably water. Some much to do, so much to do!

This is my absolute favorite time of the year!!

Now You Know Why We Keep Him Around

2009-04-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

The entertainment value alone is worth the kibble!

Yuck! Is This April or February?

2009-04-13T10:08:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, it can't be February, we had 70 degree temperatures then! This must be April.

I hope we don't have a repeat of last April, but it's not looking too promising today, is it? I had other outdoor work planned for today, but you know what they say: If you want to make the Gods laugh, tell them your plans. I can get some SCA sewing prep done today instead.

I wanted to show this stuff to you Friday, but I was still a little too weak to think clearly. This year, we are incorporating a wider variety of plants in our garden as I've said before, but we're also trying to incorporate a campaign of re-use, re-cycle and re-purpose. One of the disadvantages of the Wonder Hubby working construction so many years prior to getting a job in aircraft is that we ended up with a lot of junk around the house. However, we are now discovering that we can use at least some of this junk in the garden. I've already shown you our compost bins made of recycled pallets; now I want to introduce you to the snow peas' support:

What? Well, what's it look like? That's because it is a set of bed springs. You think so? Let me look; you're right, they are a bit ugly, aren't they? Not to worry, though; we can fix that:

Ahh, that's much better, isn't it?

Now, I know you think that I'm on the wrong medication, but just be patient with me, okay? Once we get the snow peas growing on there, you'll see that this will work out just fine. Have a little faith in your Auntie 'wela, okay? Besides, it's better that these bed springs spend time in my back yard supporting my crop of snow peas than spend decades rusting away and taking up space in some landfill, isn't it? This is what I mean by re-purposing things. Those springs will never be used in a bed for sleeping, why not use them as a bed for growing things?

Lachlan the Wonder Hubby is so inspired by this thought that he's decided to fix up our old grill/smoker. It's made of solid steel, it works great, it's just really damn ugly. So, he did this:

And now it looks like this:

Now, all he has to do is paint it with this Rustoleum High Heat Paint we got at Lowe's, and we'll have a good looking grill to use. Why spend $350 for a new grill when you can spend $10 on paint and get the same result? (Providing you're not too lazy to add the necessary elbow grease, that is!) It's my hope that we can do things like this all growing season this year. I truly hate that phrase "think outside the box" but I'm discovering that I can utilize the thought without resorting to using the phrase, so that's all right.

Now, anyone have any ideas about this:
I'm thinking we paint it fire engine red, and plant it full of really colorful herbs, but I don't know, maybe just some marigolds would be better.........

Rainy Days Mean "Time for Revelations!" Part Quatre

2009-04-12T11:09:00.000-07:00

And on this rainy Easter morning, I give you the latest installment of "Rainy Day Revelations", to wit:

In an emergency, a vegetable scrubber can be used to exfoliate the calluses on your heels.
Actually smoking pot is not the best way to discover a new allergy
Should the headboard of the bed you're having sex on break loose and fall off--mark this occasion so that you can retell the story later in front of your teenagers' friends. The squirm factor is awesome!
Cleaning your oven is time-consuming. Wait until you can only bake one cookie at a time. (Thanks, Aunt Shirley, for that one!)

If you have any rainy day revelations you'd like to pass on me for publishing, just drop them to me at kate@suspiration.org; and I'll be sure to include them the next rainy day. Proper credit will be printed--if you want to remain anonymous, that's okay, too.

Tomorrow, it's back to garden posts, and the joys of re-purposing junk. Today, everyone go love your families!

In Celebration....

2009-04-09T12:06:00.000-07:00

...of the fact that I fought the virus, and I won, I give you one of my very, very favorite '80's videos:

This is the video that inspired me to become "Safety Wench" at the Kansas Newman Renaissance Faire more years ago than I can count. I'm going to watch and enjoy it, and get my strength back. I encourage you all to do the same!

AND the daughter is out of the hospital!!!!

Are They Serious?

2009-04-01T16:37:00.000-07:00

I don't usually pay too much attention to fashion crazes. You'll never see my oooing and aaahhing over clothes with some bozo's name embroidered all over them. For one thing, I'm wwwaaaayyyy out of their demographic; and secondly, I could never fit into the clothes they design for the gullible masses, largely because I've been known to actually eat on occasion. Any sensible person would realize that one biscuit is enough to cause one to split out of one's clothing faster than the Incredible Hulk.* My mother always said that fashion designers actually want to dress teenage boys but women buy all the fashion, so they try to make women fit their profile. I believe her.

Anyway, while I was perusing through the news of the world outside my garden today (occasionally I like to remind myself that there is a world outside my garden), I came across some pictures of some of the fashions displayed in Kiev last month. For example: Miss Breakfast 2009 here was immediately followed by Miss Ham and Gravy 2009, but the photographer was hungry and missed taking her picture because he was too busy knawing on this girl's dress. I'm not sure, but I believe her hat is made of Texas Toast.Now, I wasn't even aware that Kiev had even become a fashion center in the wake of the collapse of Soviet Russia; which probably illustrates my fashion ignorance better than any other comment I could make. And after viewing these pictures, I'm rather glad I'm a jeans/sweats and t-shirt kind of girl. I wish these were April Fool's jokes, but they're not. I mean, seriously, they're not. Really. I don't even have Photoshop, so there's no way I could make these pictures, even if for some drunken or drug-induced reason I might have wanted to. Honest! But, I was thinking that there is no better day to show these pictures.

I didn't even know that "The Lion King" was touring Russia this year!

Paris Hilton wears more clothes!

After viewing these, I've decided that where fashion is concerned, I'll be joining my friend here:

No bull, he really walked the catwalk! (Sorry! I couldn't resist!)

Ladies! All together now: Viva las Sweat Pants!!!

*Side story while I'm thinking about it: When my oldest son was 3-4 years of age, he called Bruce Banner "The Credible Hulk", which makes a certain sense: A 4 year old will believe anything. Parents can use this to their advantage. I also had him convinced that if he didn't pick up his Star Wars toys every night, George Lucas would sneak into the house and take them all back. Of course, that would also explain why he never slept......

You Can't Change My Mind on This One

2009-03-31T19:28:00.000-07:00

I do not use Twitter. I will not use Twitter. I do not Twit. Or tweet. Or whatever.

Why not? Mostly because I'm not that profound every day. I can go two or three days without one single, profound thought--honest! And if my thought is not profound enough to blog about, it certainly isn't worth interrupting the lives of my friends.

If you want to know what I'm doing, call me and ask me. Or better still, come over and see me. I love company. And then we can use more than 140 characters to express ourselves.

I'll even make tea.

Had to Share This One!

2009-03-30T12:19:00.001-07:00

Okay, I will be a big girl, and admit that I have a few Internet addictions: I read dooce she's freaking hilarious; I check out Cake Wrecks because it's nice to see that I am not the only one in the world who cannot wield a icing bag with any finesse whatsoever; and lately, I have become addicted to I Can Haz Cheezburger because I've owned cats all my life, and I know exactly just how hysterical they can be.

This one, though, I had to share:

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

If only they didn't write the captions in such a stupid fashion: Everyone knows that a cat speaks perfect English. With an Oxford accent. And a note of slight disdain.

When they want to speak, that is.

Best Laid Plans Never Work for Me

2009-03-28T11:10:00.000-07:00

Yeah.....so.....anything going on where you live? Not too much going on here, except..........

Where Did All This Fracking Snow Come From??!!!

I mean, come on: It's almost April, for goodness sake!! I had plans for this weekend, you know? We were going to drive up to Kansas City for an SCA event; we were going to come home and start planting some stuff; work out in the yard; maybe go to a movie, but NNNNNOOOOOOO: Nature decided to slip us an April Fool's gift a little early. Like 6 inches of an April Fool's gift. And all I can say is, "Gee.....thanks, Mom!" This is like getting clothes for Christmas. Or a pair of boots on your birthday. Or a set of wrenches on Mother's Day. You get the picture.

Now, I am grateful for the moisture, don't get me wrong; but I wish it had been in a more condensed form. Like rain. Even a heavy mist would have been attractive. Instead, Wichita looks like a scene filmed in Alaska: All we need is Sarah Palin pontificating while a guy behind her beheads a turkey. .....upon reflection, no one needs that. Not even Alaska.

Today, I had planned to upload pictures of the first batch of compostibles doing their thing:

Maybe add a couple shots of us at the SCA event in Kansas City, just a few shots of us posing with our friends--you know, the ones up there that we can't get to--yeah, those! I might even have thrown in a few pics of the stuff we were planning on planting. Instead, I give you these:

I'll even throw in these:
And just for fun, I'll fun, I'll even add this one:Oh, and if you're looking for me, I'm planning on being here:

But the way my plans have been working lately, I may end up in Phuket.

At least it won't be snowing there.

I hope.

PS: Our daughter is making progress. Thank you all for your prayers and kind thoughts!

Update on Our Daughter

2009-03-26T16:22:00.000-07:00

She's awake!! Not altogether there, but awake! She has a lung infection of some sort (I'm seeking more information on just what kind), and they still have her intubated and in the ICU, but she's awake!!! And dig this: Her biological father has been with her the whole time! How about that? I think I'm going to ban her from ever referring to him as the "fucked-up Vietnam Vet" again! I know they've had their issues over the years--hoo boy! have they had issues!--but this time, she's not alone. She's got a parental unit with her. Maybe I'm more relieved than I should be, because clearly, she's not out of danger yet. But I know our daughter: If she can wake up, she can carry on! Blessed be the Gods, and blessed be all of you for hoping and praying for her. I love you all very much, you know--whether we've met in person yet, or not. Thank you so very, very much for being "here" for us.

How Long Can She Do This?

2009-03-24T21:11:00.000-07:00

My daughter, Anne, is in the hospital again. In a coma, again. They said she was hypothermic and nonresponsive when she was admitted. Her blood sugar was 1500.

I don't know what to do.

This Time We Had to Say "Thank You"

2009-03-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

Guess what? My folks did it to us--again! I posted about them messing with our Thursday plans by renting the rototiller two days early because Dad was just sure--sure, mind you--that it was going to rain Saturday (as I gaze out at the clear blue Saturday sky while I type). Then comes Friday morning, and the phone rings. Before we'd even finished our coffee--never a good sign. It was Dad. My muscles began tensing into knots, apparently sensing what was sure to be another day of physical labor. I watched my husband's face as he listened to the gravelly voice on the other end of the phone.His face grew tighter. So did my muscles. His face began to tense. Ditto the muscles. Then a look of incredulousness washed over his face. His color actually changed! I tentatively told my muscles to stand down, but they never listen. Lachlan got off the phone and looked at me silently. "What?" I asked, the tension about to kill me--were we going to have to help them plant trees? Move boulders? Tear down their house and start over? Would I need to call the doctor and offer sexual favors in order to get us more and hopefully, better painkillers? What? "Tell me," I anguished. "What does he want from us now?"

"He wants to give us some finished compost for our garden," the Wonder Hubby said.

I blinked. Checked his face. Blinked again, this time rapidly. My fear turned first to joy! A year's start on compost! Hooray! Then, I began to feel the first fingers of trepidation crawl across my spine. Free stuff from Dad? What? We are talking about my father, after all: Part Scot, part Irish, part mule--nothing's free from this guy! "What's the catch?" I asked.

"We have to go get it off his driveway," he replied, heading for the bedroom and his shoes.

The burst of sunshine that accompanies revelations blinded me--I understood immediately. "Now," I said resignedly. "Now!" he replied from the hallway.

*sigh*

Five minutes later, we're at the folks house. (They only live two blocks away, after all. But I'm fine with that. Really. *twitch-twitch*) First, of course, we have to observe the formalities: Talk a bit about family; send Lachlan back to our place for something Dad's decided we need for this adventure; finally consent to eat the sandwiches that Mom insists on making. Some more gossip, er..family news. Then, it's work time. Lachlan and I head back out to the driveway--and my father promptly shoos me away. This ain't for womenfolk, little lady! (Just who do you think's going to be helping unload this mother, Bub? The Watchmen?) Okay, then, I'll take pictures. (Gotta admit, if a woman gets to garden, it's nice when it's this way!)

So, we load up the humus (did you know that's another name for compost? Learn something every day, don't you? Especially at this blog. Spread the word, why don't you? ), we dutifully promise to come see them this weekend (*sigh* again), and head back to our place. Now, it's workity:

"Smile for the camera, Honey! Do what?....My, aren't we just a fracking ray of sunshine this morning?"

I'm just kidding. The Wonder Hubby, as usual, applied his muscles with a will, and moved that lovely black stuff to the backyard garden with aplomb. And in case you think that the little fat Duchess sat on her rather large, um...assets and loafed, observe:
See? I can work when I have to! Umm, okay, Sweetie, I think that's enough pictures. Oh, all right, one more smile for the camera:

Now, could you get off the ladder and give me a hand here? Please? Honey? I think that's enough pictures for the now. Dear? *deep breath* I said 'GET DOWN AND HELP ME OUT HERE!!! *whew* That's better. Damn, I need to color my roots again! Whoosh!

Aw well, all's well that ends well, I suppose. We're both in a lot of pain from muscles that had absolutely no intention of going along with my father's whims, but we do have one very big garden chore over with. And we now have compost spread about our garden that didn't cost us a thing but a ton of labor and a little groveling at my parents' footsteps. We even had enough left over to spread in the flower beds in the front yard:

I'll have flowers from Hell this year! And....it was awfully nice of Dad to give us the stuff--it's not like he had to, or anything. He's actually a pretty good guy when all's said and done; just a little stubborn. A bit set in his ways, if you will. You know, rather like a water buffalo--and just about as easy to deal with. BUT, he's still trying to be The Provider, and he's still trying to look out for his family, and I'm beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he does kinda like Lachlan and me, after all. I mean, while Mom will never be president of our fan club, that's okay most of the time. I can deal with that. Dad, though; I don't know; I still seem to need his approval for whatever stupid and childish reason. And I think, I think he just might think that Lachlan's okay.

You don't see him ordering my brother around, do you?

Oh, and thanks, Dad: You saved us a lot of trouble and money.

But.........do you think you could you call two days before next time? Please?

Thought you might like to see the progress so far. Here's a nice shot of the composted garden, cold frames and newly constructed compost bins.

We're Tilling Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! Umm, Okay, I Guess....

2009-03-19T14:24:00.000-07:00

...which was the sum total of my contribution to the phone conversation that I had with my mother last night. I didn't even get a chance to gasp loudly and scream "But I thought we'd agreed to discuss this first!" I didn't even know it was on the schedule this week! Not that that would have mattered: My Dad's 75 years old, and when he decides to do something, you either go along with it, or you get steamrolled by a geriatric former Marine.

And one who's been going to church lately. Mighty suspicious activity, if you ask me. This is the man who once told me he was a Druid Reformed, which meant he could pray at bushes. He says he goes to show support for my brother, but I suspect it's more like what Bill Cosby said about grandparents: He's old, and trying to get into Heaven. And apparently he thinks he's going soon, so he wants to get his own garden in as soon as possible. So, it's "Hey, you two! March along. Hup! Hup! Hup!" (Damn, I'm glad he doesn't read my blog!)

So, my poor Lachlan is up at the ass-crack of Dawn (having gone to sleep just before said ass-crack, you understand), being pummeled mercilessly by a rented machine that was probably designed by torture-minded Nazis:

(Notice that the machine is red in color, and if you will recall, the Nazi flag was mostly red. See? See? It's a pain-giving device, I'm telling you! And if you don't believe me, ask Lachlan!)

8:45 this morning, the Wonder Hubby is outside, while it's still a bit chilly, flailing away at the garden's surface like some mad prairie dog. As you can tell by the picture, he's thrilled!

Oh yeah, nothing better for a second-shift worker to do than this, is there? Who needs sleep? Who needs breakfast? Who needs study time? Who needs this?

And yet, the Gods bless him, he did it. He tilled up the surface of the garden perfectly, revealing some beautiful looking soil that smelled so loamy, so earthy, so invigorating that I just had to sneak out while still in my nightshirt (a sight no one should have to experience!) and snuffle all that good smell into my lungs until they felt like bursting! (You know, if the perfume/cologne industry could simulate that smell, gardeners would get laid more than star athletes! Just an idea...) Look at that soil! It's so dark, it's so loamy--you could eat it now and be totally and nutritiously satisfied! Well, you probably shouldn't do that--there are lots of little microbes in the healthiest of soils; little buggers who would dearly love to help you get your 15 minutes of fame on CNN... just not in the way you'd hoped:

"So, Doctor, you're saying that your patient died of e.coli-anthrax-tetanus-mediated influenza? Is there really such a thing?"

"There is now."

"Okay, thank you, Dr. Putz. And in other news, the Octomom went to a yoga class today, and somehow squeezed out a ninth baby! With more on this, we turn to......"

You get the picture. Still, the job's done, Lachlan even tilled up my former herb garden area, so we can now decide what to do with that as well. I guess it all works out in the end. I hope so, anyway. Don't really want to try to keep my husband from slipping something noxious in my Dad's Ensure. I mean, really I don't. Most of the time, anyway. Oh come on! He's my Dad! What are you gonna do?

The Wonder Hubby tilled, tilled, tilled; then he loaded up that Nazi device onto its trailer and let Pop have it. Then he came inside, and......promptly cleaned up the kitchen! (You thought I was going to say "and collapsed.", didn't you? Nope, not him. I know....I know....I'm not worthy. Sorry. Oh, and yes, he does have a brother, but they're nothing alike. Just ask bro's wife.)

So, I guess we'll start some planting this weekend, instead of the tilling we had expected to do. And I must admit, I am getting excited about that: I just love having growing things around me (--which reminds me, I need to water my indoor plants.) I'm thinking we'll put in some snow peas, maybe some green beans, start some lettuces outside the cold frames, that kind of stuff. Figure out how to utilize that old bed springs as a lattice for the peas and maybe the beans. (Maybe if we paint it first....hmmm.) We might even get a chance to paint the compost bins and start filling the first one.

Unless, of course, my Dad decides we're cleaning out our garage.....and his. *sigh*

I've Got a Fever! And the Only Cure is Compost!

2009-03-18T12:54:00.000-07:00

With apologies to SNL's famous "Cowbell" sketch, the Wonder Hubby and I actually managed to get in the back yard and begin the construction of our compost heap bins! (Thunderous applause inserted here, along with appropriate ooo's and ahhh's. Thank you!) Let me show you what we did:

As you can see, we used some old pallets to make the bins themselves. We used ordinary door hinges to hold them together; that way, if we ever need to take them down, we'll be able to do so easily.

If you look over the Wonder Hubby's shoulder there, you can see that we've placed the bins right next to the garden. There's two reasons for this: 1) The compost will be right next to the garden, so we don't have to carry fermented crap over long distances; and 2) We really couldn't put them anywhere else in the yard. So, yeah, that's pretty much that.

The end result here, is two squares made from old pallets and lined with rabbit wire on the inside, to keep the composty stuff in. We actually wired the wire to the pallets as a lining of sorts; it's kinda hard to see in the picture on the right, sorry about that. But the wire lines the squares all the way around, otherwise we'd have a real mess on our hands.

Here's the end result on the left: two nifty keen looking compost bins. (I wonder if I could paint the exterior and make them look a little better? Note to self)
Now, some of you may be wondering just why should one need a compost bin for their garden? Or you might have a more basic question, like: What the hell is compost? Luckily for all of you, the Garden Answer Duchess is here to provide needed information. Aren't you the lucky ones!

According to Answer.com, Compost is.."A mixture of decaying organic matter, as from leaves and manure, used to improve soil structure and provide nutrients." So, yeah, compost is basically, well, crap. Now, why should you need it? Any of you remember Will Rogers? He was a bit before my time (believe it or not), a writer/comedian from Oklahoma who was quite famous in the 1920s-'40s. He had a sort of folksy style about him, I can't say I find him all that funny, but he did make one statement that stays with me. "You know why land is so expensive?" he asked an audience one time. "It's because they aren't making it anymore." Pretty astute observation for an Oklahoman cowboy (Sorry, Honey!) Land is an increasingly rare commodity, you see; so you really ought to take care of what you've got. This means feeding the soil so that it can feed you. You really can't keep using chemical fertilizers all the time--they'll feed your plants okay, but they don't really do anything for your soil. Plus, they tend to breakdown into not-so-good chemicals: by-products that can actually hurt your soil's ability to grow things. Compost will both feed your plants and keep your soil healthy.

Now you can buy compost and manure and all that, but isn't part of the reason of having a backyard garden is to save money? And, once you find out what you can put into a compost heap, you'll realize that your household produces plenty of compostibles (is that a word?), so you'll reduce your garbage output, too. Very green thing to do, and very fashionable these days--Look at all the compost that Congress is putting out these days!

The Sedgwick County Extension Office has lots of information on composting: how to build a heap, what to put in it, what to do with the end result, etc. I'm providing a link here.
Remember, my garden is an experiment: I'm no expert, especially on composting, so I'm providing this link to the experts for your enlightenment. Besides, there's a wealth of information there, not just on gardening, but just about everything! Check them out. I'm adding a permanent link to them on this website.
Okay, so you got the bins together, now what? This is where the theoretical meets the practical. I think, well, we think (the Wonder Hubby and I) that the first layer should be like dead grass, shredded dry plants and finely shredded leaves. Then you put in a layer of soil (yes, we'll have to buy the soil, but we already budgeted that in). Then we'll add a layer of household scraps (more on that below), then more soil, then grass clippings, then more soil, then household stuff--you get the picture? Once the first one is full, we make sure it gets enough air and moisture (more about that in later posts); then we let that one ferment, and begin on the other. It's a bit of a process, you're not going to get results overnight; but in the end, you'll have lovely compost to spread over your garden, heap up around your plants' roots...and less trash. Cool, huh? Well, I think so, but then again, I don't get out much....

Where was I? Oh yeah, just what is compostible (I really need to find out if that's a real word!): Just about everything you throw away. Kitchen scraps: veggies or peelings, fruit rinds, stalks, coffee grounds and filters, shredded paper towels--just about anything but meat or protein. They are apparently too hard to breakdown this way (I'm going to research that some more and get back to you). Got shredded paper from your home office or just bill paying? Put the shreds in the compost pile, cover them with a bit of earth, and talk about Identity Theft Prevention: Who in their right mind is going to go through a compost heap to try to piece together your personal info? See, I'm offering you a much cheaper protection than that guy on TV who has his Social Security number plastered on the side of a huge truck, let me tell you!

Okay this entry's getting a little long, so I'll stop here, and talk more about composting tomorrow. But I leave you with this picture the Wonder Hubby took:

Don't you just love the way the shadows play across the slats of the pallets? I think this picture is beautiful. Doesn't Lachlan have a great eye for beauty? Thanks, Honey, I love this picture!

Huge Surprise Here!

2009-03-15T16:43:00.000-07:00

Your result for The New Greek Goddess Archetype Test...

You are Demeter!

The Goddess of Grain and Fertility

Demeter is very nurturing and caring. She is dedicated to her children and she lives for them. If she doesn't have children, she cares for her pets and her relationships with the same intensity. Her nature is dedicating her altruistic love to whoever needs it most, and she enjoys volunteering. On the bad side, she might expect the same unconditional love back and doesn't recognize it when people don't need her help.

Take The New Greek Goddess Archetype Test at HelloQuizzy

Ta Dah!!!!

2009-03-11T13:04:00.000-07:00

I was going to write about the importance of a compost heap today, but I just can't. You see, today is my oldest son's, Gryff's, 32nd birthday; and much as I could make many jokes about compost and my son, I refuse to do so! Instead, I will just say this:

Happy Birthday, my Darling Baby Boy!!!!!!!!

Mommy loves you!!

*snicker* He's gonna kill me!
So worth it.......

I Have More Garden Ideas!! (Poor Lachlan!)

2009-03-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

Last week, we went to The Garden Show, held here in Doo-dah at Century II. It was a little scaled-back in comparison with previous years, but it was still mighty nice! I just wish the ticket price wasn't so steep! They'd have twice the attendance if they'd halve the price--you guys ever hear of "Corporate Sponsorship"?

BUT, we had a great time, and got a million new ideas for the garden, and Lachlan the Wonder Hubby took quite a few pictures for reference. (Why? Because we are old and possess short attention spans! More on that below.) The whole set up was very nice, and it never hurts to be in a very large room with an amazing amount of live vegetation. Here's some shots of a lovely little herb garden they had set up there. I'm wondering how I can adapt this arrangement to my rectangular herb space. It's a very medieval set up, but I doubt the presenters knew that. They just wanted to sell some herbs. The herb beds were cut into quarters, and surrounded a cute little birdbath in the center. I thought it was very well done; a little formal for something from me, but it is how it would have been done a few centuries ago. I've been wanting a way to make at least a part of my gardening pastime fit into my SCA activities; this might just be the way to do that.

They had some fantastic water features there--the Wonder Hubby loves water features! So do I, for that matter. We tried, many years ago, to have a pond in our front flower bed, but it kept developing leaks, so we finally removed it. I would sure like to try one again, though. This one on the right really caught our eyes. The large stones in the center had water trickling down their surfaces, and although you can't really tell from the picture, it was set up with different colored lights being reflected on the stones there; an effect that could have been very tacky, but somehow wasn't. The water disappears underneath, so you wouldn't have a pond, which is kind of a bummer; but that would mean less maintenance. And, it would live really nice in our front flower bed.....("Honey?" Whatcha' doin'?.....)

Now check this out, I thought this was really sweet! It's like a little summer retreat for your backyard; totally impractical with Kansas winds, but ssssooooo cute! I made Lachlan take a couple of pictures of it because I can't help but think that we could use this idea somehow at an SCA event. I believe the fabric roof is made from sari cloths.

This little girl and her brother were playing inside it when Lachlan and I went in to take pictures of the interior. She said to us, "This is our house" and we were like "Can we take some pictures of it?" and she looked very solemn for a moment, and then said, "Yes. You may." So we did. One must obey the proprieties, after all.

One of the neatest things (to us, anyway) was the Sedgwick County Extension Office's display. It was a compost heap!! How serendipitous is that? We stopped to take pictures, and got a chance to talk to some very lovely ladies who gave us some great information. Hopefully, if the weather and Lachlan's job cooperates, we'll be able to start on our heaps this weekend. Now, just why a compost heap is so important would take an entire blog entry to do justice to, perhaps I can write on that tomorrow. But in the meantime, here's some pictures of their set up:

Notice the pipes sticking out of the middle there? That's so the heap gets oxygen all the way through it. This is apparently extremely important. It is possible to suffocate your compost. Ponder that while you go about the rest of your day.........

Recycling was the big message of this year's Show: Re-cycle, Re-use, Re-think. One of the big gardens that the larger landscapers in the area put together every year even had a gazebo made from old doors:
(Would you believe that this thing had pigeons and chickens inside? What was up with that? I mean, Wichita is not lacking in the pigeon department, believe me. You won't see any "Vacancy" signs up for pigeons anytime soon. And chickens? I've got a Dillon's 1/2 mile from my door step. Not really worried about a chicken deficiency.)

And they had vendors that pushed that recycling idea to the extreme, believe me! Some of the ideas, like the recycling of the snow fence used to corral the compost heap, were really worthy, and some of them were just downright silly, like so:

Believe it or not, this thing is made from old metal, springs and painted with enamels.

Isn't it silly? I loved it, I must confess! I've got a real weakness for flamingos and peacocks (consider that my "Rainy Day Revelation" for yesterday!), and these guys had both! I loved them--I just could not justify buying them.

And you know what?: That was the problem with the whole show: We'd see a vendor with a clever and/or cute idea, and we'd say to each other, "We could make that!" and we'd walk away, secure that we'd stored that idea away to implement as soon as possible. And all the while denying to ourselves that we'd forget whatever it was as soon as we got home. That's why we took the camera this year, so if we saw something we really like, we'd take a picture of it. Now let's see if we can do justice to half the things we saw!

However, there is one item that was on display there that I didn't really need any pictures to remember. As a matter of fact, it is probably burned into a permanent spot on my retinas, and no amount of Lasik surgery will rid me of it:

Those are metal palm trees. I'm not kidding. Yeah.......

Let's Hear It for Facebook!

2009-03-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

I had a delightful afternoon yesterday; I spent it with a precious friend that I've known since before high school. We met when we were 14, we had the same gym class in junior high. As I recall, the class was taught by a Baptist preacher's wife, and that poor woman had absolutely no idea what she had gotten herself into! The first time she tried to have a "hygiene" class with us, she asked if we had any questions that were bothering us. Now, remember, this was the '70's. And she was stuck with a crowd of 14 year old girls. Someone (and I can't remember now who) asked her what she thought about Frenching on a first date. She didn't know what the girl was talking about, so we girls, being the helpful types that we were, cheerfully filled in the blank. The poor lady then, and I am not kidding you, turned gray and fled from the gymnasium. So, you could say we won that round.

Truth to tell, we won most of the rounds with that poor soul. We completely bewildered her--she simply could not relate to a bunch of horny teenage girls living in the very Sexual Seventies. But, between bedeviling a confused preacher's wife and dodgeball, I made some friends in that gym class. I was the new kid--we moved to Doo-dah in 1972, while most of the rest of the class had grown up together in the (then) small town we were caged in. To say I was relieved when some of the girls started talking to me is somewhat like saying that New Orleans had a bit of a plumbing issue after Katrina.

One of those girls was Deb. She was cute, redheaded, a little short, very bouncy and fun. She had also apparently been a very good girl because the Ta-ta Fairy had blessed her in great abundance. It was something of a marvel that she could stand up straight, much less be so animated! But she was nice, very friendly and quite willing to take up with a stranger who talked too fast, and had an odd accent to boot.

So, cut to the new Millenium: I get a request on Facebook for a friending. I don't recognize the name, so I send what I hope was a polite inquiry. She responded with her single name....and I couldn't get to the "Accept" key fast enough! We talk through the website for a couple of days, and finally, we're able to get together in person.

I'd've known her anywhere! She's still cute, a little short, very bouncy and fun. And if the hair's not exactly the same, and a little medical intervention was necessary in the boob department--who cares? She's still my friend. There's about a 25 year gap in our correspondence, but you couldn't tell that by watching us together. We sat for hours in a restaurant, talking about kids, marriages, hobbies, friends, grandkids (hers) and memories. Oh my gods, the memories.

We talked about the (many) concerts we went to together, when her little white halter top to get us to the front row of any concert within five minutes of arriving at the venue. We talked about dressing up in our best vampire style (this was before Goths, my children) and arriving in a hearse to an Alice Cooper concert. We remembered teachers we'd liked or hated, boys we had drooled over (complete with who did or did not go bald--oh, the curls that are lost forever!); people who had been our friends then but no longer; ex husbands we regret; musicians we'd met; entire conversations centered around "do you remember....?; stuff we were doing now and, just like 36 years ago, we told each other things we would never tell another soul--not even (Sorry, Honey!) our husbands.

Finally we came to my house and talked even more. And laughed. Laughed so hard the tears came to my eyes. Laughed and cried, and felt so comfortable with each other that the time gap in our friendship disintegrated right in front of us. One could actually feel the years peeling away like so many layers of wrapping paper around a precious artifact. It was amazing, so much fun, so..........young-feeling!

Life has treated us both like branches of a tree, whipping us this way and that, blowing us apart, and now, thankfully, back together again. This time, I think we'll manage to stay together; this time my friend will have my support and love to back her up, no matter what she faces.

And she'll have my back as well. Gotta love that.

A Clarifying Moment of Sheer Terror

2009-03-02T21:48:00.000-08:00

After watching some of this documentary HBO's been running about political conservatives, and how they feel betrayed by the last election; I had a horrible, scary epiphanic moment: These people vote Republican because Lincoln won the war.

Their outlook hasn't changed since then, you see.

(Oh, and Conservative-types: You lost. Get over it. Be happy you live in a country that lets you bitch.)

I KNEW I Forgot Something!

2009-03-02T19:12:00.001-08:00

Potatoes!! I forgot to add potatoes to the garden list!!

Man, that was bugging me!

Thinking of Spring....and Wanting It Now!!

2009-03-02T15:50:00.000-08:00

After a perfectly miserable and cold weekend--chocked full of pain and other fun stuff, I'm trying with all my might to concentrate on what to plant in the garden this year. I figure such a topic is bound to keep me from dwelling on the fact that my legs are killing me and that my hands feel like they've been wedged between two WWE fans for three days. Yeah, the garden should do it.

I'm also fighting some depression over the fact that I couldn't go to what was probably THE event of the SCA this year--the 25th Anniversary of the Kingdom of Calontir. "Jubilee" is what it was called, and by all accounts, a jubilee it was!! Apparently, all kinds of old fossils like me came out of the woodwork to attend, there were glorious displays and memorials, the fighting was awesome, and the feast was fabulous. BUT, it was in St. Louis, and there is absolutely no freaking way I could ever travel that far in a car. It would have killed me. But it's kinda killing me that I missed it. The Wonder Hubby says that we will go to the 30th Anniversary--no matter where it is. So, now I've got something to look forward to, don't I? This will give me plenty of time to lose that 30 pounds I need to get off my plump rump! Gotta look at the positive, 'wela; no time for negatives.....

Now, as to the garden: Remember last year, when I said the garden was so big, I wasn't sure I could plant enough to fill it? Well, now I'm a little concerned that I might have to forgo some of the things I want to try, due to lack of space. How the hell did that happen? Anyway, here is my list of vegetables that I want to try to grow this year (in no particular order, I'm not much on being orderly!):

baby carrots
cherry tomatoes (one plant! Only one!)
bibb lettuce
bell peppers (green, red, purple if I can find it!)
Grand Rapids lettuce
zucchini
acorn squash
pumpkins (white ones, and maybe a huge kind)
okra
some sort of workable size tomato
cucumbers
snow peas
summer squash
spinach
arugula
swiss chard
green beans
maybe a cabbage

See what I mean? That's quite a list, isn't it? Of course, some of them will only grow in Spring/Early Summer and some will be better in Summer/Early Autumn, but that's still going to be quite a lot. And I'm pretty sure I'm leaving something out....AND you must factor in whatever plants I find at Hillside Feed and Seed that I don't currently have on the list, but will undoubtedly fall in love with once I see it. Sounding a little crowded, isn't it?

All I need now is some warmer weather so the Wonder Hubby and I can build our compost heap holders; oh yeah, and then some rain so we can actually grow some of this stuff; and then, I want us to sit down and re-design the cold frames for next Winter; and the garden is still lacking a proper fence and garden gate.

Never ends, does it? I can't wait!

Hilarious!!

2009-02-26T21:41:00.000-08:00

The Wonder Hubby gets home late tonight, and I'm trying to urge him into comfy clothes, because you can tell by just looking at him that he's got, oh maybe 15 minutes before he passes right out. I even go get his bed slippers and sweat pants for him, then hold out a comfy t-shirt for him to put on. And he's protesting a bit, you know, the whole "I'm doing it, don't push me" kind of thing. So I get the t-shirt on him, and then kiss him and say "I'm just trying to take care of you, you know. Which you won't let me do." And he says, "I know. That's just the way I roll."

And Love......Twue Love!

2009-02-25T15:40:00.000-08:00

Let me say this at the outset: I dearly love my husband. No one has done as much for me (and yes, I am counting my parents, thank you very much!); no one has ever loved me so unconditionally; and no one, absolutely no one, has ever indulged me as much as he does. So, when I say I love my husband, you understand that I mean that. Unconditionally. Forever.

Why, you might ask yourself, do I feel compelled to make such a statement today? Simple: He constantly shows me that he loves me. No matter how I feel, no matter how I act, no matter how I look--the Man looks me in the eye, and says, "I love you". And he means it. See how simple that is? I love him, he loves me, the World turns. You get the picture. No? Okay, I'll illustrate.

For example: This morning, he announces that we're going to the bookstore. Now, I have already waxed poetically about how much I love bookstores! I can bore you to tears about how much I love bookstores, and how much I want to own one--not to sell, you understand, but to read. And own. Forever. Anyway, he needed to pick up a book or two for his job (and I cannot convey adequately how much I love that!), and he wanted "us" (read "me") to pick up some books for the gardening effort. We needed to know more about composting, we needed our own copy of "The Book", that kind of thing. Okay, I'm more than down with this idea, I'm willing to perform rather unnatural sex acts for such books. Just don't tell Ron Jeremy.

I don't know if you're aware of this, but given the proper motivation, like say, "Let's go to the Bookstore", I can get cleaned up and dressed (including teeth brushing) in about 4 minutes. Flat. And yes, I've timed myself. So, when he said, "Let's go to the bookstore", I had already washed my face, brushed my teeth, shed my pajamas, and had a foot in my sweatpants by the time he said "Book". I'm that fast--when properly motivated. NOTE: One does NOT get the same result when one says "Let's go to your parents' house". I'm just saying. But today, the weather was beautiful, I felt pretty good, the Wonder Hubby was in a good mood, and we had money. Look out, Barnes and Noble's, here we come!!!

So, I am now sitting here, looking at our newest acquisitions, guaranteed to make our garden fantabulous and keep America safe from Terrorism. We now own our own copy of The Book: The Vegetable Gardener's Bible by Edward C. Smith (your copy is now safe, Dad!);and we also own a very instructive book about the ins and outs of composting; to wit, The Rodale Book of Composting.

But, why, do you ask, did I start this post asserting my love for my husband? I'll tell you why: Because, while I made a mad dash for the bathroom (why is it you can talk about manure and composting, but not basic human biological functions?), that Man that I Love also bought me Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin. It's another book about the greatness of Abraham Lincoln AND the men he chose to surround himself with. We definitely did not need this book, but I've been wanting to read it for quite some time. So the Wonder Hubby bought it for me. I don't even know how to respond to that. I don't even know why he loves me so much. I just know that he does.

I'm so blessed.

2009-02-24T12:35:00.000-08:00

You know what they say, Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? Well, catch a gander at mine--six pills! And that's just to get moving in the morning. Kinda looks like Disney threw up, doesn't it? Yeah, well, better living through chemistry.

Hold on a sec, my feet are cold--I'm going to get some socks. Ahh, that's better. Don't know what the deal is lately, my feet used to be hot all the time; now, they freeze rock solid. They feel like they just radiate the cold from the inside out. It's very odd. I keep trying to get Chaz or Gus to lay on them, but no, they'd rather lay in the bed we put here in the office for them:
Oh well, at least they're getting along! But my feet are still cold.....

I've been trying to read Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hildebrand. Notice that I say "trying to" because, in spite of an obviously monumental amount of research, I'm having a hard time getting through this book. It's got great characters, a great storyline--a true one at that!--and lots of pictures, but..........no flow. This book has no flow. I've read textbooks with more flow. You find yourself forcing your way through the book (or at least I do), and that's no way for a book to be. A book should be a friend that is telling you a story--either one you've never heard, or never heard the whole truth about, or it's an old favorite you want to hear again. A book should never be a test of personal fortitude.

Now, this is huge disappointment for me on a couple of levels: I was looking forward to reading it. They made a movie out of it, for Gods' sakes, surely it had something appealing in it, right? AND--the lady who wrote it, Laura Hillenbrand, suffers from fibromyalgia, just like I do. Actually, she has a much worse case than I do--she can hardly leave her bed! So, I thought this was really great, you know, someone who's sick like I am can actually make a living by writing--even producing a bestseller that gets made into a movie. So, I was pumped---and now I'm not. I'm going to keep at it, though; I'm only on Chapter 3, and I'm thinking maybe the book will pick up after the trainer, jockey and horse actually meet. What do you think?

I love to read, and I love to write, but I worry that I'm not good enough to ever get published. And then I read something like Bentley Little's Dominion, and I think, "Frack! If this guy can get published, surely I can!", 'cause this book gives new meaning to the word "pretentious", let me tell you. Yet.....his work flows. One word leads effortlessly to the next, easily conveying the thought he wants you to catch, and leaving you eager to catch the next. Maybe he should team up with Hillenbrand: she can research and come up with the idea, and he could write it all down. A dream team would be born!

Maybe I should cut Seabiscuit a break. How do you do justice to an event that actually happen? It can't be easy to try to infuse your book with the excitement attracted by the subject when it really happened, right? And yet---Manhunt: the 12-day Chase for Lincoln's Killer by James L. Swanson manages to convey all the shock, horror and fury that surrounded the search for John Wilkes Booth in 1865. Weird, huh? Guess it's all in the computer, huh?

Anyway, I just wanted to chat about a few books I've been around lately; and try to figure out the written word and the best way to use it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read James P. Blaylock's Night Relics.

Is It Spring Yet, 'Cause I'm Ready!

2009-02-20T14:45:00.000-08:00

Just check out that lunch, will you? That's greens and carrots from the cold frames, with a store bought tomato and celery thrown in, served with a boneless, skinless breast from an organically grown chicken. I'll either jump up with tons of energy--a veritable Wonder Woman, ready to take on anything that flies at me--or else my preservatives deficiencies will cause me to go into an irreversible coma.

We have had an amazing amount of success with the cold frames; the greens and carrots have just thrived in our makeshift environment. Now, I'll grant you, the carrots are small, but the flavor is wonderful. Lots of concentrated taste in those little orange fellers! They will definitely be making a return appearance in our spring/summer garden. I think I'm getting addicted to them! And I don't know why exactly, but our lettuce actually has a flavor to it. You know how you go to the store and pick a head of lettuce; you shred it into bite-sized pieces; you add all the other colorful things you want to make a salad; and you finally take a good sized bite---and feel like you're eating moist cardboard? Well, not so with this stuff: This has a lovely taste, it's light, but it more than holds its own with the other salad components. I may never eat store-bought lettuce again.

But, in order to do that, I have to plan the garden. I hate planning, I don't think I'm terribly good at it, but one needs must. So, the Wonder Hubby and I (well, truth to tell, mostly the Wonder Hubby) has been observing how the Sun treats our back yard: Which part gets sunshine first, which part gets the most, etc. Our goal is to make a chart, and then plant the veggies according to which needs the most sun, which can't handle the midday sun, which does better in shade--the whole bit. I suspect we will be spending many an afternoon at Hillside Feed and Seed, because those folks know it all--and are oh! so happy to share their knowledge. And no, I do not get compensated to sing their praises--I just really, really like them.

This year's garden is going to take careful planning though because this year isn't acting like last year. For instance, we haven't had a lot of precipitation this year--yet. The weather has been unseasonably warm as well. Last year, if you will recall, it was very wet and very cold in February, with an even worse March and April. So, I don't really know how cooperative Mother Nature is going to be this year. I may want to grow lots of greens and such, She may have other plans for me. I may want edibles, She may have in mind a cactus garden. So, we must tread carefully, right?

I know I want about three kinds of lettuce, arugula, chard, chives. I want fewer tomato plants, fewer peppers, but more gourds--winter squashes as well as summer ones this year. I want to try potatoes, but I don't know which variety yet. And I'm going to give the cukes and pumpkins another try in a different part of the garden. Then there's all the herbs I want to grow next to the house. Yeesh!

So, if the weather cooperates, we'll probably start working on the soil in the garden: Checking pH's and other minerals, deciding what organic goops to add, that sort of thing. I'm hoping we can finally get the compost heaps going. The little fence around the garden needs work--I'd like to make it more permanent, and I want a proper gate for it. For some reason, that's a major bugaboo with me--don't ask me why. And I've got to get the area for my herb garden in shape as well, it's in desparate need of some hard work. That one alone will probably take a couple of weekends. I'll have to be careful with my energy.

And so it begins again. Oh boy!

My Garden and such

At Last! An Actual Post!

Goodbye, My Little Buddy

Birthdays and Bodies

Resolutions

I Can Haz Washer?

Garden 2009 Review

Grandma's Funeral or "Laughs Pop Up in the Oddest Places"

Prelude to Grandma's Funeral, part 3

Prelude to Grandma's Funeral, part 2

Where to Begin, That's the Question! (Prelude to Grandma's Funeral)

Oh Hey, How You Doin'?

In Honor of "International Talk Like a Pirate Day"....

Early life

Marriage and affair with a pirate

Life as a pirate

Capture and imprisonment

Disappearance from the record

Early life

Becoming a pirate

Capture and imprisonment

Are Any of Us Going to Make It Out of Our Fifties?

Everything I Needed to Know, I Learned From the Monkees

First Side That Decides to be Reasonable Wins

Dog Days? Where?

Continuing On in That Canning Fashion....

Yes, We Can, oh, We Can-Can!!

Must Have Caught Me on a Good Day!

Night Visitors

Pickles!

Updates! Get Yer Red-Hot Updates Here!

My Plants and I are in Complete Agreement: Heat Sucks!

No, Really, I'm Still Here!

Meanwhile, Back at the Garden II

What's the Best Way to Announce an Email Addy Change?

I'm Just Saying....

A Momentous Day, A Good Day, A Terrible Day

I Didn't Know that Joy Could Make You Numb

There are Worse Things than the Zoo.....

Sorry for the Rain Delay...

Lots of Blather, Very Little Content

Happy Birthday, my Lachlan!

Tomatoes In! Back Out!

All Together Now: OUCH!!!!!!

All Right Plants! Prepare to Meet Thy.......um, Dirt

*fist to sky* Enough, Already!!!

Avast, Ye Stomach Bug!! Take that! *Poke-poke!*

News Flash! (deet-da-deet-deet, da-deet-dit-deet

Mayday! Mayday!

Ah, the Ridiculousness of Weather

Well, Piffle!

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's a Workity I Go!

As I Creep My Way Out of the Mental Fog.....

Now You Know Why We Keep Him Around

Yuck! Is This April or February?

Rainy Days Mean "Time for Revelations!" Part Quatre

In Celebration....

Are They Serious?

You Can't Change My Mind on This One

Had to Share This One!

Best Laid Plans Never Work for Me

Update on Our Daughter

How Long Can She Do This?

This Time We Had to Say "Thank You"

We're Tilling Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! Umm, Okay, I Guess....

I've Got a Fever! And the Only Cure is Compost!

Huge Surprise Here!

You are Demeter!

Ta Dah!!!!

I Have More Garden Ideas!! (Poor Lachlan!)

Let's Hear It for Facebook!

A Clarifying Moment of Sheer Terror

I KNEW I Forgot Something!

Thinking of Spring....and Wanting It Now!!

Hilarious!!

And Love......Twue Love!

Is It Spring Yet, 'Cause I'm Ready!

fist to sky Enough, Already!!!

Avast, Ye Stomach Bug!! Take that! Poke-poke!