Sunday, June 13, 2010

The Garden Report: June 13, 2010

Wasn’t I just complaining about how cold it was? Wah wah wah, cold cold cold?

Yeah. Well, hi summer, because it was over 90 degrees all weekend, and the sun was blasting like a bread oven, and good grief, I think I lost fifteen pounds in sweat this weekend! (Alas, that is merely wishful thinking…I’ve gained over five pounds since I started back to work six months ago thanks to a combination of more sitting and too much eating.)

All this heat and the end of the rain means that it is time for this again.

gray water collection

I have the garden on pretty sparse rations, water-wise…I’m counting on the biweekly laundry water to provide the rest.

I’d managed to forget what a pain in the tush (and back, and elbows, and shoulders) it can be, though. I cannot tell a lie: I wasn’t too thrilled this weekend as I was toting the water hither and yon. I should have gotten out my sump pump and hose and blah blah blah, but I guess I was in one of those “no, I’d rather just sit here poking myself in the eye with this sharp stick, thanks all the same” kind of moods.

So it was lug with a bucket and pour by hand, all over the yard. Brightness of Idea: Negative twelve.

But at the end of the day, everything got a good long drink and friends…check it out.

Here is the butternut squash Friday evening.

butternut squash

Saturday morning, it (and its partner, who you’ll meet in a second here) were among the first to get a big drink of tasty laundry water (mmmmm, laundry water!).

This afternoon…

heaaaaaaaaaathcliff!

The one on the left there is the one seen above; that vine that is now reaching longingly for its little friend on the other side is actually being trained all the way around from the front (it wanted to fratnerize with the green beans at first). That is about 4” of stretching out it did, in just over 24 hours. Dang.

Everything (other than me) seems to really like our suddenly seasonal weather. The Christmas lima beans are shooting up…

Christmas limas

…and becoming quite the little social climbers…

climbing, climbing

One of the cherry tomatoes has the decency to be embarrassed by their constant demands for water and fertilizer.

blushing cherry tomato

Or perhaps it’s the fact that there’s a peeping Tom in the garden – a sneaky pea, that somehow seeded itself in the yellow-striped heirloom tomato container…

sneaky pea

The pinto beans are already jumping up all around the corn – I now see why it’s important to give the corn a bit of a head start on them!

This one cracked me up (possibly due to heat exhaustion) – doesn’t it look like it’s jumping out of the ground singing? LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

LAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Tonight after I’ve recovered from the sweatiness a bit, I have to go back out there and get some green beans in…

green beans

And the definitely-ready-to-think-about-bolting spinach.

spinach

The romas are still a little sulky, I think; they’ve got a few flowers but not so much as a bump of fruit forming yet.

sulky roma

I’ve got an open spot again where there was lettuce (if only the initial planting of cucumbers had made it…sigh…). There’s almost always a patch like this out there, where something just came out and nothing has gone in yet; little bits of what looks like scorched earth, with growing things all around it.

scorched earth

The berries are starting to stir a little bit – especially the blackberries and raspberries. This one has finally gotten to my knee!

blackberry

Meanwhile, my little apple tree is shooting up – it’s gained about six inches since March!!

granny smith apples

We’re going to have to be very careful not to get lazy with this tree – once it hits twenty feet, we want to start keeping it “capped” there. If left alone, it could get to forty feet tall and almost as big around!

The Bing cherry tree is also happy, growing and leafing out like it means business.

Bing cherries

The Ranier is coming along a lot more slowly. I was getting too hot and cranky by that time, so you’ll just have to imagine a kind of spindly tree with some new growth on it here. Like the Bing, only having a really bad hair day.

The five-in-one (which appears to have lost two of its grafts, so it’s actually a three-in-one now…unless those two thoroughly dry twigs suddenly go, “Oh yeah, we’re supposed to grow and some junk!” and leaf up…but I’m pretty sure they just didn’t ‘take’…) is responding really well to the deep-root water we finally noticed wasn’t actually turned on. (Sigh.) The peaches have grown from golf balls to about woman-fist sized. Yay! Although now we need to prop up the branch a bit…

peaches

I thinned these down, too, taking out about 30% of what was on there. I’d swear the tree responded by making more.

And…my red potatoes.

red potatoes with flash

I took that one with a flash – it was actually getting a little dark when I was stalking around Friday night checking for exposed potatoes. I’ve been doing that almost every day for weeks, but nary a potato have I seen. Which was good, actually; if potatoes sit on top of the soil, they turn green and bitter and are actually a bit toxic. That’s right. A potato can be poisonous. Yes way.

I used the “deep planting” method for my potatoes this year precisely because I didn’t want to be constantly having to hill up around them. I knew I was going to be crazy-busy with the work-thing and the commute-thing, so I’m trying to keep things as low-maintenance as I can. (Ha. Ha ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *sniff* *sob* yeeeeeah…low…maintenance…)

This is a shot without the flash; it’s a lot truer to the actual color of the potatoes.

red potatoes

I’m in love. These are just so lovely, and so utterly unlike the supermarket potatoes; even unlike what I’ve gotten from the CSA. (Although in all fairness, there isn’t a whole lot that doesn’t benefit from being rushed straight from the garden into the oven, you know?)

I’m going to start pulling a few out of the ground each week, here and there. They’re too good not to just go ahead and eat, and I suspect we’re going to be up to our ears in them soon enough – the white Kennebec and the All Blue (I keep calling them ‘purple,’ but they’re actually a really dark blue).

Now, let’s see, did I get everybody…oh, wait.In the front boxes…baby lettuce.

baby lettuce

And baby pak choi…

baby pak choi

Eeeeee…

A lot of what I planted in there has a longer germination time; in fact, I think most of what I planted takes a whopping 21 days to poke up its head and say “howdy!”…which is why I also decided to put some lettuce and that delicious pak choi in there – it comes up satisfyingly fast, and quickly looks purty, too.

Which will match the boxes they’re in; the husband finished the pavers this weekend and folks…he does awfully nice work.

curvacious

He has twelve band-aids on eight of his fingers right now. He was using a special wet saw thingee (you can see how technical I am here, right?) to do all his fancy cuts to make the curves and fill in the funky little angles and such, and it was exactly like spending two days in a swimming pool with rough stone edges.

I’m so impressed with this I could about bust. Is my man clever, or is my man clever?

And that is the garden report for the week. It’s starting to get downright exciting out there, isn’t it?! (Just agree with me. That’s what you’re supposed to do with crazy people, you know…)

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Pictures later, but…

…I ate a potato last night.

Just one. One measly red backyard potato.

Because after weeks and weeks of anxious checking, they finally said, “Oh, OK, here – have a couple visible potatoes. Now you can go ahead and ‘hill us up’ and feel like an actual gardener, geesh, whatever…”

So naturally I kind of dug around a little bit because I was curious, and that one potato was just so…perfect…so beautifully the right size, so frivolously red, so curvaceous…I just couldn’t resist.

So I picked it and brought it inside and roasted it and then I thought I’d try a bite before I did anything to it, just to see what it tasted like.

I mean, I already know what butter and sour cream and salt and pepper tastes like. Backyard red potatoes, though – new experience.

It really was sublime. Creamy, a little bit sweet, with that indescribable thing TV cooking shows call “good mouth feel.”

The flavor was light like air; the texture and feeling was as if I’d drowned it in butter.

I want more. More, more, more.

(Fortunately, there will be more. Lots and lots and lots more. And there’s also the white Kennebecs [which also started peeking out of the ground yesterday] and the purple ones! We’re going to be up to our eyeballs in spuds in another couple weeks around here…)

Friday, June 11, 2010

Thank DOG it’s quittin’ time…

You guys won’t tattle on me, will you? Didn’t think so…oh my stars and garters, did I ever have focus issues at work today. And yesterday. And the day before that. And also the day before that. And…wait, have we gotten to Monday yet? Because it’s been like that all week.

Seriously, if someone were doing a documentary on the most severe cases of adult ADHD ev-ah, they should have been around my place this week. It got to be seriously annoying, because, you know, daydreaming and thinking a zillion things at once and constantly sidetracking down “interesting but rather besides the point” mental alleys and all like that can be groovy…but not when you don’t want to be like that.

Although I did get a groovy “missing account lookup tool” out of it, when one distraction led to another and another and another then suddenly I found myself building this Union Query Of Doom where you can put in your account number and, if it is in any of our whackity-majillion source feeds, it will not only tell you precisely whence it came, but why it did not wither-goeth unto whereunto ye thought it oughta-eth.

Because, uh, that happens rather a lot. “Where’s this account? I can’t find account XJ942YRU774!” And then I end up going through this tedious process of finding out which source feed it is in (and then it’s in there as 000004-XJ942YRU774) followed by the even MORE fun process of trying to weed out exactly which of the 427 constraints was “the” constraint that caused it to get kicked out of the system. (My personal favorite has got to be when I get to say, “Dude, this account was closed on February 22, 2006.” Because really? You’re freaking out over an account that has been dead, Jim, for over four years?!)

But now, see, I have this nifty little screen, and I just copy and paste the account number from the email, and it runs through all the different possibilities including the possibility that I’ve only got a partial account number (I’m rather proud of that…it’s not 100% foolproof, but so far it’s been spot-on) (I so clever, I scares m’self) (no, really, it kind of scares me that I’m so charmed by my account-number-parsing-and-pass-to-join-solution), and then if it finds a hit it runs this sub-query that runs all the account flags through in the same order as the load process until it hits whatever would have first knocked it out of the load.

And then, it tells you in English what happened. “This account was not in scope because it is a child to parent account 000001-XJ942YRU774-07Q, Ixsnay Warehouses DDA.”

Booyeah! Just saved myself I-dunno-how-much time down the road. And eventually maybe I can deploy it out to the reporting site and they can look up their own darned missing accounts and leave me out of it. While I go on to do more important things, like looking up Thai chili chicken recipes.

Because missing accounts => tying up my time => I really like Thai food => ya know, wasn’t there a Thai chili chicken that was like KFC meets Singapore I saw once…?

…three days later, I emerge from my bedroom gimlet-eyed and spouting all kinds of facts about how to grow chili peppers.

Seriously, people. What is going on with my biorhythms this week?! I’m always a bit (a bit?!?!) (shut up, me) prone to this kind of stuff, but this week has been bad even for me!

In unrelated news (you expected something else?), have you noticed a trend lately where real estate listings are using pictures taken years ago, like, as in, from the last time the house was sold?

(See? This is what I’ve been dealing with this week. It’s like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride inside my skull.)

I hadn’t noticed it either. But then I went online to get the confirmation number on a bill pay, and I was all, Ohmygah, I drove past that house the other day and it does NOT look like that anymore! and then I went all surfy-surfy and checked out the pictures of other pretty run-down places I drive by regularly and found that about three times out of a ten, the real estate agent was using a picture that so did not reflect the way the house looks now…but made me think of what it looked like back in the boom days – you remember, two whole years ago…?

Oh. How did I get there from getting an online bill payment confirmation number? Welllllllllllllllllll…see, it was something like this…

Bill payment confirmation =>
paying off bills =>
paying down mortgage =>
being upside-right on Den again =>
being able to sell the Den if we wanted =>
if I had twenty fertile acres, what would I grow =>
wonder what the going price is for tomatoes, berries, corn, wheat and potatoes right now =>
farm search =>
real estate listings =>
what are places going for out here these days / just how upside down are we now =>
AAAAAAH, MY EYES, MY EYEEEEEEEES, SAY IT AIN’T SO OHMYGAH WILL THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL NEVER END?! =>
…waitasecond, I know that place, only the weeds are a lot higher now, aren’t they…

Sigh.

I am so glad it’s after quittin’ time on a Friday. Maybe a nice weekend pulling weeds, cheering on my paver-laying hubby and conniving a few more square feet of garden space (oh yes, there has been conniving going on) will get my head back in the game.

Either that, or I’ll spend the whole weekend right here, endlessly distracted by just one more link on the Internet…

{click!}

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Change of plans…

There I was sitting, happily eating my nice, healthy apricot for breakfast.

apricot – healthy!

And then somebody said, "Hey Tama – there's cheesecake over here!"

not so much healthy!

So I, uh, increased my, erm, calcium intake…yeah, that's it, I needed more calcium…

(I know my Treo's camera couldn't get the full coolness of that little chocolate flower – the detail was exquisite, right down to a beautiful little dab of raspberry "ovary" at the base. So sweet!)

(And I ate the apricot too. Except for the bruised up nasty bits.)

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

The Odyssey odyssey

So. As kvetched mentioned yesterday, when we attempted to pour out the door into Homer the Odyssey yesterday, we were confronted by a large, minivan-shaped rock in the driveway.

The lights worked. The remote would unlock the doors.

But the key would not turn in the ignition, no matter what we tried.

So after a quick consultation, the husband took off for work with the Denizens-minus-Eldest crammed into the Civic (yeah, not exactly a good family vehicle for a family of six, y'all) (but an awesome commuting vehicle), while I stayed home to deal with the Odyssey Situation.

A couple hours later, when the shops and dealerships were beginning to open, I grabbed my cell phone and went outside, ready to make a call that was probably going to cost me an awful lot of money. Early research was suggesting a problem with the anti-theft system; each key is coded with a microchip that the interlock system reads before allowing the key to turn.

If it had gotten fried, it was going to be an impressively large repair bill to get it fixed.

So I walked out there and glared at Homer resentfully. Sitting there. All…not-working-y…in the driveway…and gah, right in the middle of the danged sand and rock piles, too. That wasn't going to be fun for the husband, if we couldn't get it handled right away. Or for the tow truck, I'd bet. Because lookit that, he's kind of over that pile on the one side and the front bumper is right up in the gravel…

…waitasecond…

No. Yes? Nah. But…maybe…suppose it was…is there a…sensor…or…something…under…?...sigh

I got a shovel.

Now friends…shoveling sand is not a lot of fun. Shoveling wet sand is even less fun. And rock is yet more less fun due to the weight-thing.

And all of that is nothing compared to the double-plus-un-fun of attempting to shovel sand and base rock out from under a minivan you'd rather not dent up.

Twenty minutes of hot, sweaty work later, I climbed into the cab, put my key into the ignition, paused to ponder whether I'd be more happy or pissed if this actually worked, and then made the gentle, familiar turn of the wrist…

Vroom.

I said a few words. Never mind what words precisely; suffice to say that they started off with something that rhymes with "oil be clammed" and may have gone a bit downhill from there.

I was more pissed than happy, at the time; among other things, my back muscles were already starting to do this fluttering thing that tends to be the early warning signs of nasty spasms. Shoveling is not an activity I should be doing in the first place, really, and certainly I shouldn't do it two days in a row, and most assuredly I shouldn't be doing awkward and heavy shoveling of the kind you will perforce be doing if you're trying to remove base rock from under a van.

Furthermore, not only did I have to clear what was directly under the van – I had to move almost half the danged pile, because naturally when you try to take stuff from the bottom of a pile, well, the top just slides right on down to replace what you just took out.

It's called gravity, and it is mean that way.

Sooooo, I had to move maybe a quarter yard of sand and rock four inches to the left to get my poor minivan out. And for a fair bit of it, I was shoveling while crouched down all weird so I could get the shovel under the van.

Awesome.

As I was standing there, panting, victorious, pissed off, rubbing my back and trying to fend off the spasms with willpower alone, trying to be pleased that I'd thought to try it before calling a professional , here came my husband – driven home by a sympathetic coworker after the power went out at the office and left him stranded in Pleasanton.

Now friends. This is the man who parked the vehicle in the building materials. This is the guy who created the situation in which I found myself this morning, struggling with a shovel on a work day to free whatever sensor had gotten confused by the presence of Too Much Crap Around The Tires.

It is his fault, people, that I am wondering if I'm going to find myself taking a fistful of muscle relaxants, possibly washing them down with vodka, and lying on a heating pad exactly the way they warn you not to for the next four days.

DO. YOU. KNOW. WHAT. THAT. MAN. SAID. TO. ME?!

"Wow, you moved the piles. {pause} But you know they're on the wrong side now, right? Yeah. 'Cause I want them to put the pavers there, so I kind of wanted the piles to be here…"

Ahem. Yes. Well, I have another suggestion for where the blasted pavers can go, and although it is anatomically improbable, I'm willing to give it a try right about now.

Also, Important Safety Tip: Don't smart off to a pissed off, sweaty woman who just spent half an hour fixing your mistake.

Especially not while she's still holding the shovel.

Monday, June 07, 2010

OK, NOW, it’s just getting silly…

I got a call about an hour ago from Captain Adventure’s sitter saying, “Uh…his bus is here…should he, um, get on it? He's not to happy about it...”

And I went, “Whaaaaaaaaat?!?!”

I thought that wasn’t starting until next week. Good grief, what kind of mother AM I, anyway?! How on earth could I be a week off like that?!?! Guilt-guilt-guilt...

I waffled for a moment. He doesn’t have his backpack, we didn’t prepare him for it, etc. etc. etc.

But on the other hand…I don’t want him to miss his first day. That’s when orientation happens, and furthermore it’s never a good idea to let “him” decide he’s not getting on the bus. If he wins once, it’s precedent, you know?

So I said, “Yeah, OK, he’d better go ahead and go.”

…fast forward to a few minutes ago…

“Oh hai, is this Mrs. Captain Adventure’s mom? Ya, uh…the bus sort of brought him today? Uh-huh, yeah, only, his program doesn’t actually start until next week?”

The bus company had him on the wrong list.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.

So he’s on his way back to the sitter’s house.

And I’m just sitting here…with my broken-down minivan still pretending to be a very large rock in the driveway, a stranded husband wandering around Pleasanton, a very confused son who will probably be a right twerp for the rest of the day (unless he decides this has been fun and he’s glad he’s not going to school so YIPPEE FOR THE SITTER’S LOVELY HOUSE!), Eldest rattling around the Den because she’s practicing staying home “alone” (she is desperate to be a latchkey kid and I suspect it won’t be long before our sitter sweetly but firmly suggests that we let her), and all my coworkers trying to shuffle themselves back into some semblance of being able to work given the sudden shutdown of the building due to the power outage.

Sigh.

It’s a most…Monday-ish sort of Monday today…

…and then it gets even MORE interesting…

Just got a call from the husband. The power is out at our office and they’re shutting down the building, so he’s stranded until the first ACE train home – in eight hours.

He doesn’t have a power cord with him for his laptop with him, so what’s he going to do for about seven of those hours? No idea.

And can I come get him? No. Because I have a dead minivan in my driveway stubbornly refusing to Just Work. (I keep trying the key. Because I am insane and expect that eventually, doing the exact.same.thing will have a different result than the last 48 times.)

Today just keeps getting better and better

What are you trying to say to us, Universe?!

Wait…wait…I think…yes, I’m getting a Sending here…here it comes…

Commuting is stupid for people like you two, whose work is done entirely on a computer, who end up plugging into an iPod so they can block out the conversations of others around you because PROGRAMMERS NEED A BIT OF SOLITUDE AND QUIET TO WORK EFFECTIVELY and whose meetings are held over the phone and via Live Meeting because the team is scattered throughout the world. It is a pointless expense of carbon. You can work from home just as effectively, without the physical, fiscal, spiritual and ecological expense of traveling 70 miles each way to and from work. MegaBank should totally embrace this, because it would be good for both the planet AND their image.

Wow.

Just…wow.

Me. An Oracle for the Universe.

…I feel so humbled…

All dressed up, nowhere to go…

I put on my nice black jeans and a new(er) dressy shirt. Found matching hand-knit socks. Applied a little buff to my black dress shoes. Miraculously discovered the earrings I wanted to wear actually where they belonged.

Washed my face. Put on makeup .

I. Put. On. Makeup. This. Morning. (Granted, it was actually just tinted moisturizer, but that counts.) (Even if I did only remember because all the yard work in the blowing dust and sun turned my skin into something resembling dehydrated lemon peel, so dry it kind of hurts – and pain is about the only thing that will remind me to take medications or rub salves into my wounds. I’m the moisturizer and sunscreen queen today, people!) (Tomorrow…I promise nothing…)

Anyway. I am ready for my date with greatness, y’all. Looking all business-y and competent and…and…earrings.matching.SHIRT, people.

I am so ready to take over the corporate ladder right now. (OK, not really. I’m afraid I remain not much of a “climber.”) (Besides, people whose jobs are stamped with a big old expiration date [Kick Out By: FEBRUARY 11, 2010] really can’t pretend they’re any sort of corporate mogul, ya know?)

So at 6:15 as we’re loading up to head out (half an hour late leaving, because we had a midnight call about a job failure on one of his systems that had us up for about two hours in the middle of the night, which naturally led to a certain extra enthusiasm with the fist on the snooze button this morning), Himself comes in and says, “My key isn’t working in the van.”

And I said, “Huhn,” and wondered quietly to myself whether he was using the right key. The keys for the Civic and the Odyssey are identical, after all, and it’s pretty darned early in the morning, and we were up until too-late last night and then there was that midnight call so maybe the poor dear is, I dunno, sticking the house key into the door lock and wondering why it isn’t working…

No. He isn’t that sleep-fuddled or brain-dead or anything like that.

Homer the Odyssey is a big old lump of dead steel this morning.

Sigh.

So, I’ll be working from home today, between calls to AAA, the dealer, The Guy We Know Who Knows Cars and probably my mother at least once.

Awesome.

Just another normal day of abnormalities around the Den of Chaos…

Sunday, June 06, 2010

The Garden Report: June 6, 2010

You know, once upon a time, my backyard looked like this:

weeds galore

Gorgeous. (I can’t remember when I took this picture…this is what our whole yard does over the winter if we don’t stay on top of it…which we didn’t, except in the beds…) (‘Course, usually the husband gets out there with RoundUp and napalms this stuff, but this year I was all, “Don’t you dare! You’ll hit my poor little peas and broccoli, I just know you will!” so…he didn’t. And then the weeds took over the world and we all died, the end.)

OK, not really gorgeous. Actually, kind of frightening. I mean, even the composter was afraid of these things. Look at the poor thing, cowering against the shed all terrified and pleading for its life…

weeds of doom

Heh. Yeah, but, you know, the thing about this yard was: Zero Maintenance. No weekends spent planting or harvesting, canning or drying, no weeding, no raking, no digging your hands in a mix of compost and clay and vermiculite and peat moss and etcetera up to your elbows on a day that might have been spent doing more important things – like surfing the Internet, watching Deadliest Catch or eating ice cream until you throw up.

me mixing yet more

I had all kinds of tools to use for this. I had the tarp that was supposed to make it easier. I had twisty-thingees and hoe-like-thingees and shovel-thingees…but at the end of all things, it was just easier to jump on in there with my hands and mix-mix-mix.

It ended up being a hair over a cubic yard of mix. (And an extra run to Home Depot because we under-estimated just how much we needed to fill those front boxes.)

This right here is how to avoid ever needing a sleeping pill again. Seriously. I could have fallen straight into bed face-first by the time I finished moving all that stuff from here to there, then mixed it all up and moved it yet again into the boxes.

Once filled up with the mix, I planted three kinds of lettuce in one box, onions and chives in another, and the last one has a bunch of herbs (sage, basil, oregano, and thyme) and these cute little pak choi from Renee’s Garden. They’re quick-growing, tasty, and look adorable while they grow.

Then I took a deep breath and charged into the backyard. A neighbor had donated six tomato plants to us this morning, ready to go into the ground.

free tomatoes

…but he wasn’t sure what kind they were. Chances being good that they’re going to need cages and/or staking, I set them apart from other things where we could easily get at them to apply such if needed. And now we’ll see what happens – if they’re like my Roma tomatoes, they’ll get to less than 2’ high and then, uh, stop…if they’re like the cherries or the Mortgage Lifters, they’ll erupt in all directions until we put them in jail and stop their rampage.

Speaking of rampage, the cherry tomatoes are busting out like crazy, all over the bush.

cherry tomatoes

There are at least sixty of them already. Not that I counted, because that would be compulsive. (OK, I may have counted – but I wasn’t precise about it.)

We also have a few of the beefsteak types going.

beefsteak

And the yellow-striped heirloom is also starting to fruit up.

yellow tomato

(Not that you could tell it is a yellow-striped heirloom, seeing as how they’re still green. But eventually, this is supposed to be a yellow tomato with green stripes.)

The green beans bust out in blossoms this week – they’re being a bit modest and putting them largely under the bushes, but the wind rustles through them like a lover moving aside his sweetheart’s hair and gives us glimpses.

green bean flower

And there are baby green beans erupting all over the place.

baby green bean

I can’t wait to torture the kids with fresh green beans. BWAHAHAHAHAHA...

The carrots are starting to come up, looking an awful lot like grass. Especially in areas where the seed obvious got caught by a little breeze or something as I was planting.

scattered carrots

Afraid they were going to be {gasp!} overlooked, the diva cucumbers have finally decided to start coming up.

cucumbers

Things are definitely starting to pick up speed out here as the unseasonable cold is finally giving way to the seasonable warmth; it flirted with 90 this weekend, and the soil was beautifully warm and lush to work with all over the yard. When I was planting the “bonus” tomatoes I was digging pretty far down, and it was lovely and warm to quite a little depth.

And the plants are showing how much they appreciate it, with blossoms and sudden surges in growth. I didn’t take any picture of it because I got all absent-minded, but I swear I can actually see the corn growing right now; I tucked the beans and pumpkin seeds into their spots all over that little field (which took a ludicrous amount of time and Tylenol, thank you very much) on Saturday, and by this afternoon when I went back there again it was like, holy smokes - they’d grown another inch and a half!

…they’re as bad as the Denizens, I swear…(but at least I don’t hafta buy clothes for the corn)

This is an exciting time out there. Fruits and flowers, all over the yard. Wondering just how much is going to actually come out of each spot; how many potatoes are under those hills? How many of those blossoms are going to become green beans? Good grief, how many more cherry tomatoes is this bush planning to produce?! New spinach already poking up its head, carrots and onions and cucumbers and lima beans, corn and butternut squash, zucchini and pinto beans, sunflowers and cilantro.

It’s like having a supermarket under construction in my backyard. Coming soon…!

We’re insanely tired right now, but get to enjoy that smug glow of righteous self-congratulations. We got a crazy amount of hard work done this weekend.

We kicked butt, yo.

And very, very soon, we’ll start really enjoying the fruits of those labors – literally, and in the most tangible of ways.

Perhaps lightly steamed with a sprinkle of salt, or sautéed with bacon, or served up rinsed and raw with a light vinaigrette.

Friday, June 04, 2010

…wait…it's…FRIDAY?!

Today feels so much like a Saturday. I am having what might be called extreme motivation issues today.

Or at least, I am now. Earlier this morning…you know what? Not to digress (uh-oh), but "earlier" is one of those terms that can be so relative.

It was earlier in the day when the events I'm about to discuss took place, but they took place well after what would usually be termed "early" because sister mercy, did we ever sleep in this morning.

By which I mean I didn't get up until 7:00. SEVEN. Three-and-a-half hours later than usual!

Which is probably a large part of my overall motivation issues today. I feel well-rested, that must mean it's a weekend…

ANYWAY. Earlier this morning, when I finally got my laptop booted up and my work day started, well, it was kind of the usual. It being a Friday, I figured it would be one of those slower days where I could, you know, sort of putz around with the proactive stuff I never have time to do – getting my reporting services stuff up and running, figuring out how to do the trickier bits better and/or more elegantly, etc. etc. etc.

And then I was hit first thing with a question that was one of those things that make you go 'huhn…' and three hours of digging later I was able to proudly declare that…it was actually a non-issue.

But that it did point out some interesting short-comings in the reporting tool so, you know, new queue item!

All of which actually has nothing whatsoever to do with what's on my mind right now, which is that I love loyalty reward programs. Especially the kind that give you really-free stuff. Even if it's not something huge, even if it's just a token obviously designed to get you into the store where they can hit you with mouth-watering temptation after mouth-watering temptation.

Like the Godiva rewards club, which gives you a piece of chocolate every month – no purchase necessary. Yeah, yeah, it's just one crummy piece of chocolate…but it's free y'all.

And it's chocolate. Free + Chocolate.

There isn't a whole lot wrong with that, in my book.

Godiva peach truffles? They taste even better when they're free.

peach truffle

Woot!!

(We also got two more free pieces this month because the whole reason I found out about their rewards program was that we stopped in last month to make one of those 'once in a blue moon' chocolate purchases, and we spent $12, and if you spend $10 in a month, you get not one but three free pieces…but they, uh, sort of…didn't quite make it…all the way back to the office yesterday…)

(We also got our free loaf of sourdough from Boudin.)

(And some apricots, nectarines and peaches at the farmer's market, dripping with the sweet and tangy promise of summer.)

(Plus some chai. Because I think it might be against the law not to get chai or a latte or something on a beautiful day in San Francisco when the sun is shining on the bay and it feels so much like a lazy Saturday that for a few wild moments you consider not going back to the office at all but just lingering along the waterfront sipping endless cups of steamed milk and tea or coffee held in hands made hopelessly sticky with peach-juice, watching other people's children running to and fro and the tourists walking past going "Ooooooh! Aaaaaaaah!" at everything they see and asking the way to Union Square or Chinatown or Pier 39.)

(I'm not entirely sure it is a law, but why take chances?)

(Also, it having been such a beautiful day downtown yesterday, and taking a leisurely lunchtime saunter with The Husband and all, it's no wonder that my body just believes today is Saturday.)

(Which actually, if you go with the Celtic concept of starting the new day the evening before it, it totally is! Happy Saturday Eve, everybody! WOOT!)

Monday, May 31, 2010

For those who gave all

You went through fire and fear, in places near and far, facing a horror the likes of which we happy beneficiaries to your bravery and sacrifice think we can imagine…but cannot.

You suffered.

You died.

I have a good and peaceful life in this beautiful country I call home, a happy and prosperous life, a life of great plenty and freedom.

Your great sacrifice is silently, invisibly woven throughout the life, the liberty, the pursuit of happiness I enjoy today, and every day.

I thank you, I bless you, and I remember you.

A flag in chalk

Saturday, May 29, 2010

The Garden Report: Memorial Day Weekend Edition (long and picture heavy)

This morning, I was sitting with my coffee watching Kick Buttowski (what? I love Kick Buttowski…when Awesome calls…a daredevil ANSWERS the PHONE…) when I noticed a plant was growing on my hutch.

Huh, I thought to myself. I don’t remember setting any of the plant starts over there…

Ya. I didn’t. But I did set some sweet potatoes I meant to make a pie out of over there, uh, a while ago, and then I sort of, well, you know how sometimes, you get kinda busy and then, um, well…

sweet potato growth
Mother always told me potatoes would grow if I didn’t keep things clean…

Naturally, I looked at that and thought, I should totally plant that!!...but where…?

Then I started walking around my yard looking for a likely spot to drop a sweet potato plant and I thought, I should totally take pictures of all this! but of course I didn’t have the camera and I had to get to…oh wait, it’s Saturday, I don’t have to get to work or into the kitchen…I CAN TOTALLY GO FIND THE CAMERA AND TAKE PICTURES!!!

So I did.

Along the north side of the house, in an isolated bed that gets too much shade for just about anything to grow against the house itself, I planted some horseradish. It arrived as these little stunted roots that looked thoroughly dead, and I thought I’d been had and that the people who kept saying, “Make sure you plant that somewhere away from other things, it grows like gangbusters and takes over the whole plot!” were nuts.

Yeah, well. A couple months later, this is just one of the four “dead” roots I planted.

horseradish
Not so much dead. Also, doesn’t care…sun, shade, lots of water, almost no water, whatever, I’m just a happy little root plant planning world domination…

Across the concrete path, I planted spinach. This is also a pretty shady spot, almost no direct sun at all and not that many hours of indirect light either.

The spinach grows slowly there (takes about 50% longer to get “harvest sized” than it would in “full sun”), but it grows.

spinach

Down at the end of the path, we have another tricky spot. Two of the three artichokes are doing well; the third one was eaten almost to a nub by snails and is limping along behind the other two. Stubbornly alive, but not really spreading out much.

Artichokes
This is a happy one. Because this is a happy blog.

The cranberries don’t seem to be either thriving or failing. They’re just sort of…there…

cranberries

But all three bushes are “there,” and we’ve had…really bizarre weather. Everything is moving slowly right now, because we’ve had so many gray, cold-cold-cold days and nights (for California, mind you – my friends in Toronto are currently rolling on the ground screaming with laughter at the very idea that 40 degree nights and 50-something days is “cold”). But this weekend we’re jumping back into our more-normal 80s, so hopefully we’ll start getting the heat and sunlight that makes the Central Valley a bread-basket.

Speaking of (corn) bread, the corn field is coming up well.

Corn field

Pretty soon, it’ll be time to get the other two “sisters” into the ground. I’m planning to do the “three sisters” thing this year…in among that corn, I’ll be planting some pinto beans and pumpkins. The beans use the corn as their climbing supports, and also fix nitrogen (which corn eats up like kids eat, well, corn) back into the soil for the following crop cycle. Furthermore, they help to stabilize the corn when the wind whips through – important out here where we get the Delta “breezes” quite frequently…where “breeze” means “holy crap, somebody put that patio umbrella down before it carries off the table!”

The pumpkins, meanwhile, spread out their leaves and vines to create a natural weed-blocker and moisture retention – extremely important out here in drought-afflicted California.

When the corn gets to about 4” high, I’ll be out there like a kid in a mud pit planting the beans around each stalk, and the pumpkins in the empty spots.

By the way, please ignore the weeds. I suspended all weeding last weekend when I realized the new corn looked way too similar to the cursed sword-blade-like grass that is the bane of my existence. Then I suspended it even more when my back went all jicky on me Tuesday. (It’s still being a pain. Which pisses me off because I have plans for this long weekend, people, and they don’t include lying around feeling sorry for myself…but I did a fair amount of that yesterday, even knocked off work-work a little early so I could “work” on my back instead and it helped, so I’m trying very hard to be sensible today and not go all She-Ra on the housework and the gardening. Even if it is giving me a nervous tic to be sitting around on my ever-expanding backside watching my house not clean itself. Never mind. I’ll survive. Let’s keep going. Lots more ground to cover.)

This is a little less than half the back forty(yards) given over to corn; it was supposed to be all in roma tomatoes right now that were supposed to be about three weeks from harvest, but, well…yeah. I think I’ve mourned long enough over my poor little romas.

So let’s look at one of the survivors instead.

survivor roma

In the containers, the cherry tomatoes pulled a fast one on me: they have little tomatoes already growing! Eeeeeee!!!

Cherry tomatoes

The beefsteak and the yellow heirlooms still have flowers, but no tomatoes forming yet. I can’t say as I blame them: it’s just too danged cold to be fruiting up out here, really.

The peas came out a couple weekends ago; the vines had been too badly damaged by the powdery mildew and they just never recovered from it. So we pulled them out and got rid of them in the city trash (wah – it kills me to do that, but putting diseased plants into your compost is just plain stupid), and then we added fresh non-diseased-plant compost and a little organic fertilizer to the patch and mixed it all up…I’ll be planting watermelons in there today or tomorrow (back permitting), using seeds we saved from a store-bought watermelon. We’ll see what happens. The problem with doing that is that you don’t know what you’ll get; if the watermelon we bought was a “plain old watermelon,” we should be fine. If it was a hybrid, the plants we get from the seeds may not be what we expect. Or even edible. It’s a gamble, but hey – it’s a free one, which is my favorite price.

Oh, and my husband so totally got me. We were discussing whether or not we could try using the seeds from this watermelon (where “we” means “I” and “discussing” means “thought out loud to myself with him as an audience at great length”, and he looked at me with a totally serious face and said, “You know, I’d really rather if you bought one of those seedless watermelons to do this – I like the seedless ones better.”

And I was all, “Uh…honey…?” because how was I going to gently tell this usually rather brilliant and observant man that SEEDLESS watermelons were going to be darned tricky things to get seeds from and then he busted out laughing because seriously, did I think he was THAT dumb?!

Also, I planted some carrots over here last weekend. Carrots drive me a little crazy, because they take so darned long to come up. I’m a child of the instant-gratification era, something that can take up to three weeks to appear is like, ohmygah, am I sure I got those seeds into the ground?!

Future Carrots

And this is a future onion patch. With a bonus sunflower.

surprise sunflower

I didn’t plant this sunflower. I’m not sure if one of the kids did it when I wasn’t looking, or if it is a seed we planted last spring that just took this long to take off. I don’t really care – I love sunflowers in general and sunflower seeds I can eat until I’m sick.

Here’s a shot down from the top. I love the center, the way it looks all flower-like already. Also, this sucker will get up to eight feet tall eventually, if it’s the mammoth I think it is. (Because that’s the only kind of sunflower seeds I’ve bought.)

from the top of the sunflower

Behind the back forty(yards) along the fence, where once there were roses-roses-roses, there are now Christmas limas beginning to come up.

Christmas limas

My husband lined the fence with a wire trellis, all the way along the back forty(yards); I can grow anything that wants to climb back there without having to fiddle with twine or supports or anything.

Sorry ladies…he’s taken.

I replanted some cucumbers there too…nothing yet…patience…paaaatience…

The blackberries and raspberries are, like the cranberries, doing “just” fine .They’re healthy and happy, but they’re not really growing a whole lot. I can’t wait to see what they do when the weather gets more California-like for them.

thornless blackberries

The trees are also having an…interesting…time of things. Now, I’m not really counting on these little fruits actually growing into edible things. This is the tree’s first year in the ground here, after all. That said…technically, these peaches “should” have been ready in May. May is over in a couple days and, uh, well…they don’t look anything like “ready.”

peaches

Quite a few shriveled up and died (which is actually good IMHO, because if all of them ripen up that branch is going to have a devil of a time not breaking off!), but these that remain are just sort of…staying exactly the same size. Golf ball size. Same with the nectarines. Hmmmm…

Also…something is chewing holes in my Ranier cherry’s leaves!!!!!

who is nibbling my cherry tree?!

Whatever it is doesn’t like the Bing cherry, or any other tree. It might be fond of the potatoes, which have had a little damage exactly like this. I think it must be something winged, because I have been stalking around out there at all hours I could searching for the little bastards. If they’re nocturnal, they must be, like, 2 a.m. nocturnal. The tree seems to be fending for itself for the most part, but for a while there I was afraid it was going to actually kill the tree – it only had a few paltry leaves left!

Then we discovered that the deep-root watering system’s valves were actually in the “off” position – so it wasn’t getting any water other than the rain. We’ve had many, many days of “rain,” but it hasn’t been rain-rain. It’s been “heavy misting with occasional actual showers” kind of rain. Fractions of inches kind of rain. Not enough for a thirsty new tree. We opened up those valves and gave it a good long drink straight from the hose into the deep watering canister, and it perked up considerably. Something is still eating those leaves, but it is putting out three or four new ones for every one that gets nibbled into lace.

The Bing cherry tree, though, is unscathed and extremely healthy. The little Granny smith apple tree is also happy, although some of its leaves are curling a bit…I’m not sure if it MEANS something, though, or if it’s just what new apple tree leaves look like, so I’ll be consulting my tomes of tree lore this afternoon.

On the way past the play structure, I paused for a strawberry shot.

strawberry

The “upside down” planters are doing pretty well overall; the Denizens are responsible for the watering and harvesting of the two hangers, and they do the former with something almost like diligence and the latter with gusto.

Butternut squashes are happy.

Butternut Squash

And the replanted-in-the-back-away-from-whatever-was-nibbling-up-front zucchini is starting to come up.

zucchini take II

And then we come to the potato beds…where there are flowers. Now people, I am ashamed to confess that I never really thought about potatoes and how they look when they grow. If you had asked me to guess, I would have expected some low, ugly bush with a bunch of knobby roots growing under it. Something stunted, with all that energy going into those big bulbous roots below.

White potatoes have blossoms like this.

white potatoes

This is the red potato bed…

red potato bed
White potatoes are a little to the right, and the containers there are the cherry, beefsteak and heirloom yellow-striped tomatoes. And the blue thing is a trike, because around these parts the signs of children are EVERYWHERE.

These are the red potato blossoms.

red potato flowers

I am so charmed I can hardly stand it. So charmed that I lay down on my back next to the purple potatoes so I could get a decent shot of their glamorous adornments.

purple potato flower
Felt kinda good to lie down on the ground, actually…it’s nice and hard right there and my back was already bitchin’ about being made to {gasp!} WALK AROUND…

The blueberries under the front window are, like every other berry around this place, just kind of cruisin’ into summer.

Blueberries

They leafed out nicely, but aren’t really “bushing” the way they’re supposed to yet. Gardening, it turns out, requires a fair amount of this stuff called “patience.” WHO KNEW?!?

My long-suffering husband is going to build me a cute little herb box to go here along the walkway to the front door.

Future Herb Box

I was going to buy one but then I was all, “FIFTY BUCKS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” And I pouted for a minute and then I had this brilliant idea, so I walked up behind my husband, kissed the top of his head fondly, rubbed his shoulders and purred, “Well hello there, you sexy, sexy man!” into his ear.

He sighed heavily, rubbed his eyes wearily and asked, “What do you need built now?”

He loves being married to me. It’s awesome.

Speaking of sexy, lookit what he built for me already!!!!

sexy boxes

I’ll do another post to show the whole process, but this is where we are now. And my man? He did all of it. Shoveling out the extra dirt, rerouting the sprinklers, drawing up plan-things to turn log-things into box-things…and now he’s drawing up plans to turn sand-things and brick-things into patio-things to go around them so that fugly patch will finally after twelve years look good… he’s so brilliant I can hardly stand it.

mah man
And this is him on the Big Build Day, explaining something about angles and bevels and leveling and blah blah blah sand and blah blah blah pavers and I think he may have said something like “don’t you DARE take a picture of me right now, I’m all sweaty and gross!” so naturally I kinneared him anyway and now I’m posting it on my blog so the whole Internet can see it – LOVE YOU TOO, SWEATY! SWEETIE! WHATEVER!

I can’t wait to get stuff started in these. Since it’s up front and in a mostly-shady spot, I’m focusing on things like herbs and shade-tolerant stuff like the spinach. I’ve been told potatoes might be OK with it too (it gets four to six hours only…in the summertime, that can be a blessing because it gets rippin’ hot and direct sun will about melt the paint off the house, but in the winter that block is going to be a challenge to keep planted…) (although with these boxes? You can totally turn them into little greenhouses with almost no effort at all…said the woman who doesn’t do any of the actual woodworking that makes that happen…) (hmm…I wonder if the neighbors would mind me running grow-lights out there in the winter time…it’s not exactly right under their bedroom window...)

And these? Are coming out.

Future Potted Something

Good riddance, sez I. It’s a funny thing about these, actually: There are two of them, one on either side of the garage. They are fiddly little ornamental bushes that you have to get out almost very stinkin’ week and trim; when trimmed, they are pretty little topiary-ish things. But most of the time? They look like this. Because they are so far down on both our lists of Stuff I’d Like To Do Today that we just never get around to it.

I’ve disliked them since we moved in. Himself has loathed them since we moved in. He had no idea I disliked them too. He thought I loved them. So he’s confined his dislike to the occasional grumble all these years…and was very pleasantly surprised when I was all, “You know, maybe we should rip those out of there and put something else…maybe more blueberries…”

And then when he started the boxes, I suggested we take them out, tile in those patches, and put “nice” planters there – terracotta or something – and then we could mix up what we plant there. (Don’t tell him, but I’m thinking about dwarf lime trees. He’s not that fond of limes, but I am and so are most of our neighbors…but nobody currently has a lime tree, dwarf or otherwise.)

The last area where something is getting ready to feed us is here…much to the amusement of the neighbors who own half of this, who think I’m certifiably nuts (but in a nice way):

dirt strip

Oh, you can’t see it? Here. Have a close up.

lettuce

It’s lettuce. My husband even ran a little drip line out to it from the main line. I can keep a miniature salad bowl going there all season.

And that’s the not-a-bit-brief garden report, Memorial Day edition. We’ve had quite a few failures this year, actually, from roma tomatoes that died to squash plants that got eaten to beans that shot up during a brief warm spell only to be murdered by an unexpected late frost. And the peas being taken out well before we would have liked by that cursed powdery mildew. I’ve had a lot more trouble with snails and cutworms, too, and am dreading the coming aphid invasion.

But it is just such an amazing thing, to walk out into my backyard and hey look, food! It’s a daily miracle, seeing bare earth suddenly green with sprouts.

Every single day, it’s like getting a present. A flower here, a sprout there, an absolutely perfect berry or the bright red of a ladybug on a leaf. (Go get the aphids, girl, go get ‘em!)

And of course, sitting down to a meal that came entirely or in part from your own yard is just something that can’t be beat. All the flavor and savor you get from farmer’s market produce, from produce that was grown until it was actually ripe, picked and brought to market within hours instead of days or even weeks, but with the added spice of having been grown with your time and talent it becomes something transcendent.

Better than any drug for just about anything that ails you.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Dear Back:

We’ve been together a long time. I consider you to be a very close, uh, body part. Now of course, our relationship has been somewhat strained for the last five years, ever since you suddenly decided to take that lifelong tendency of yours to get your vertebrae out of joint to the next level, so to speak.

Now, I don’t hold you entirely to blame. After all, I haven’t exactly taken things easy on you. I’ve abused you. I’ve ignored injuries to you – although in my defense, the fact that you’ve always been so damned touchy hasn’t helped there.

After all, I can hardly go through my whole entire life not doing stuff because you’re being a prima donna, Back. I can’t just stop everything to cater to your every whim. Not only would that lead to a very dull life indeed, it’s not just about you, or me, or us – there is a whole big family involved here, and we all have needs.

Which is why I think we need to have this chat today, Back. Because I really don’t understand what you’re doing right now.

I think at this point it may be helpful to pause for a quick review of the sorts of things that may or may not be reasonably expected to cause a back to go :!!!pwang!!!: and then throw itself and the rest of the body attached to it into a downward spiral of agony from which there seems no escape for the next unknowable period of time.

Activities that WOULD be expected to cause a :!!!pwang!!!:

  • Moving a piano up two flights of stairs
  • Picking up a furiously fighting five year old who doesn’t WANT to take a
    bath right now, even though he smells like the jacks behind the 5th Infantry encampment
  • Digging trenches
  • Wrestling bears
  • Bench-pressing a VW Microbus

Activities that would NOT be expected to cause a :!!!pwang!!!:

  • Sitting up in bed
  • Coughing
  • Laughing
  • Picking up a 24-count box of Junior Meltaway allergy tabs (total weight maybe 5/8 an ounce)

All clear? Good. Now. As you know, Back, I picked up a box of melt-away allergy tablets on Tuesday morning. I was leaning down slightly to do this, and I was looking to my left so I could bellow at call to Captain Adventure to come and take his allergy medicine.

And you went :!!!pwang!!!: with an almost audible pop and have been a right bastard ever since. You have scoffed at Advil, sneered at Tylenol, and have throbbed defiantly at Vicodin. You won’t be soothed by packs of heat or ice. You don’t want me to sit, stand, stretch, hold still or lie down. You’re keeping me up all night and then cramping up even more because we’re tired.

All because I picked up a tiny little box of allergy medicine?

Pardon my use of abbreviated obscenity, Back, but, seriously…WTF?!

Now, I still love you. We’ve been through a lot together. We’ve ridden horses and bicycles, climbed mountains, gone wind surfing; we’ve swum countless miles in pools and sloughs. We’ve stood on the bows of sailboats and crawled through cave openings that common sense said were a very bad idea indeed.

We’ve fallen and gotten back up (eventually) many times, you and I.

But if you don’t sober up and fly straight PDQ, I’m sending you to military school.

And this time I really mean it.

Love,
Me

Wish I had my commute commuted...

This was but a cast-on rib this morning when we hit the road THREE AND A HALF HOURS AGO.

Some mornings are just like that. Delays leaving the house, delays at the station, delays on the rails, hordes of children getting on and off the trains,

And now I feel like it's the end of the day rather than the beginning...sore, tired, cranky...just...done.

Eh, well. Can't change the past, so I guess I'll just have to focus ahead and make it the best rest of the day I can...and look forward to telecommuting tomorrow!!

(sent from my Treo)

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Why trains are cool

Only having to drive five miles in this pea soup this morning.

WE LOVE YOU, ACE TRAIN!

(sent from my Treo)

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

That’s my boy all right…

We had Captain Adventure’s semi-annual IEP meeting today. We weren’t particularly surprised by anything they had to say about him; we’ve actually had very good communication with his teacher the entire year, so it was more about making casual conversations and emails “official.”

He’s very good at his school work. In some areas, he’s actually way ahead of the “average” kindergarten graduate. He is happy to do the work, too, and seems to enjoy it.

He’s come a long way with his social skills, too. He’s still hardly a social butterfly, tends to keep to himself and is very uncertain and hesitant when it comes to interacting with his peers, but he’s gotten a lot better about talking to adults and speaking up in class.

They were really focusing on the positive, because they want to shift him back over to the district program instead of keeping him in the county – getting him closer to a mainstream environment.

So they were talking up how ready he was, and how well he did at this and that and the other, and how he had scored a perfect score on his kindergarten exit exams (same test they give mainstream kids, by the way) (not that I’m boasting or anything) (well…maybe just a little boasting…), and how well he’d been doing with his potty training.

Oh yes. We spent quite a bit of time discussing that. See, he absolutely cannot go back to district unless he is potty trained. District does not do diapers, people. District requires that the child can be relied upon to tend to calls of nature all by his little self, without much in the way of reminding, nagging, or leading by the hand, verbal commands all the way through the procedure, and assistance washing hands afterward.

I think they might actually faint dead away if they found themselves having to deal with {gasp!} wet pants. (I’m fairly certain that’s not literally true, but this is the impression being given.)

Shortly before we broke up our meeting, they asked if we wanted our Captain to take the bus to his sitter’s house, or if we wanted to take him with us. And we said we’d just go ahead and take him, since it was already 4:00 and we had basically told our coworkers we’d be taking the entire second half of the day off anyway.

So they brought him into our meeting. He was surprised to see us there. “What the heck?” he said in his Funny Guy voice. “Dere’s da mom-meh and da dah-dee hear-ya?”

He was awfully patient while we were wrapping up our meeting…but as we were getting up to go and I was asking him if he wanted a snack, he started telling me I was “out of time.”

It took me a long time to realize he was talking about a need to go to the potty. Finally, giving me a look that clearly said he despaired of ever teaching me anything, he said, “You run out of de time, and den I haf de pee down my pants.”

You have the…oh, look, so you do…

Now, I know it was entirely wrong of me and all, but I almost laughed myself to death. Here his teachers were, assuring me that he was for all intents and purposes potty trained, hooray, and we could with confidence! send him on to the pee-makes-me-faint hothouse flowers back here in our home district…and he’s standing there without a care in the world in soaked underpants, pants, socks and shoes.

That’s my boy all right.

Go ahead. Try to say he is this, or that. Tell us how “it is” with him. Grab your label machine and try to stick one on him.

He will smile his charming little smile, and his little eyes will twinkle, and he will promptly do exactly what you just said he couldn’t or wouldn’t.

I love you, my quirky little man.

Stubborn steaks and all.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Because “sharp” is my middle name

Back in late April, I took advantage of Eco Store USA’s 2-for-1 sale (alas, that sale is over now) to restock my laundry soap; since I use the gray water from my laundry on my garden, I’m a bit fussy about what soap I use. (Go figure.) Their stuff works well on all but the kinds of stains I don’t think chlorine bleach applied with an orbital sander could get off and thus far the gray water has done no harm to anything I’ve watered with it.

Also I like the scent. It’s eucalyptus, and it does not last through the drying of the clothes. The house smells pleasant while the laundry is going, but I don’t then walk around smelling like I’ve been out hugging eucalyptus trees.

Because I like to keep some things kind of secret.

Hence the blog where I tell long stories about all the trees I’ve ever hugged and named “Clarence.” (It was an oak tree, and I don’t know why his name was Clarence or why I was so sure he was a he-oak. He just was. The same way that Homer the Odyssey is a he-van named Homer. It just kerchunked.) (The Civic’s name is Albert. Because the Civic we had before him was named Victoria.)

ANYWAY. The shipment was sent in two boxes. The first box hit the porch on May 4. The second box…didn’t.

And a few days later I thought, …waitasecond…didn’t I have a second box coming…?

FedEx said it was on time and in Sacramento. Hmm. Well, OK.

A week passed and my random brain suddenly spat out a reminder: …waitasecond…where’s my second box…?

And FedEx now told me that it was damaged and being handled “per shipper instructions.”

May 5: Package returned to shipper.

Oh. I see. Well, OK, then, I’ll check in a few days.

At which point, FedEx proudly told me it was “on time” and due to be delivered on May 18. Left Hagerstown MD on May 10, arrived Sacramento May 14, hmm. Four days to get only 70 miles? Really, FedEx? Well, I didn’t pay for expedited shipping so I guess this is the FedEx version of the slow boat to China. Whatever. May 18 it is.

And I get on with my life.

Until this afternoon, when my brain once against suffered a spasm of memory and poked at me with the waitasecond reminder that I was missing something.

So I went back to FedEx looking for answers and they said they had delivered it on the 20th and gotten a signature and everything, which they did not and I was all, “OH MAH EVER-LIVING DAWG! Some miserable filthy excuse for a rotten so-called human being stole my ecologically-friendly laundry soap!!!”

I spent a few minutes envisioning lively revenge I could take on such a person. Because you know how we ecologically-friendly product users, tree huggers and knitters are, all full of the violence and elaborate revenge schemes. And then? I’m going to write a FIRMLY WORDED letter sprinkled with adverbs to the editor…ha ha! That’ll fix HIS little red wagon, ha ha!

Then I started asking FedEx what the heck, man?!, by which I mean I began clicking randomly on things that looked like links hoping they would lead me to something more than “signed for by DBANNEN” – who by the way is not one of my neighbors.

CURSE YOU, DBANNEN, AND ALL YOUR EUCALYPTUS-SCENTED LAUNDRY SOAP STEALING ILK…!!!!

It took an embarrassing amount of time for me to notice that it was delivered Exton, PA.

Which would be roughly 2,800 miles from here.

Which would be where EcoStore is.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…

What threw me (I think) (apart from apparently believing a package could get from Sacramento to Exton in less than 24 hours) (which I suppose is possible but not at the price I paid for shipping) (which was nothing because shipping is free for orders over $25) is that it went through Hagerstown twice. The first time, they apparently sent it right back to Sacramento, where they promptly went, “what the heck, man?!” and threw it back on a truck to Hagerstown, where they presumably went, “Ohhhhhhh, return to shipper, gotcha…” and tossed it on other truck, the one heading east-ish, that got it back to Exton where (presumably) someone (possibly named DBANNEN) at EcoStore received a box that was squished and/or leaking aromatic laundry soap all over the place and said (some variation on), “Well, darn.

You know what upsets me about all this?

The fact that my brain is going to continue giving me random prods at the least convenient time possible until that blasted box actually gets back to my porch.

That is what it does, my brain. It doesn’t go, “Oh! You were going to call your grandma today!” at, say, 3:15 in the afternoon.

Oh, heck no. 3:15 in the morning, sure. It will wake me up at 3:15 in the morning to scream “HOLY CRAP, YOU WERE GOING TO CALL GRAN TODAY AND YOU DIDN’T!!!!!!”, with an urgency usually reserved for things like, “HOLY CRAP, I’D BETTER DEFUSE THAT BOMB BEFORE WE’RE ALL BLOWN TO KINGDOM COME!!!!!!!!”, thus ensuring that I will spend the next hour before the alarm goes off in a weird state of half-sleep (where the really bizarre dreams live) instead of actually asleep (where being rested for work lives) (but why take all the fun out of my work day by being rested? pfffft! being rested is for the weak…) (yeah…could I be weak now, please, thanks?).

And then it will forget all about it for the next twenty-four hours, only to bring it back up in the wee hours the next day. Or, it will bring it up while the Denizens are dangling off me yapping about dinner and permission slips and don’t forget to call Gran later and can they have sixteen friends over for dinner and also they forgot to tell me they need to bring 48 store-bought cookies to school tomorrow.

Sigh.

Oh well. Without people like me, Franklin-Covey would go out of business. There would be no need for smartphones or PDAs, either. Shoot, even pen and paper manufacturers would feel the pinch – not only do I need pens and pads to write my incessant lists, but I lose them like they were free.

Think of the billions of dollars that would be lost to the global economy if there weren’t people like me wandering around unable to remember what the heck it was they were just thinking about two seconds ago.

It would be horrible.

Which is why I…uh…wait…where was I going with this again…?