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Our garden looks like the withered, dried-up dreams of a hopeless housewife with delusions of grandeur only matched by the greatness of her reality check.
Translation: I am locked in an epic battle to encourage at least ONE THING in our garden to flourish to the point of harvest.
On the good side: good soil, organic mulch, consistent watering, pruning, staking, protection from birds via a clever PVC pipe and net structure; biodegradable pest spray, the planting of marigolds to ward off bugs, and the fact that I let the little garden spiders do their job. If you know me and my arachnophobia, you know this is a big deal for me. I delight in watering every day. I cheer the resident praying mantis and the lady bugs I saw on the plants one day. I pluck the few cherry tomatoes I can with joy. I cut twigs of thyme, cilantro and basil as needed.
On the EVIL side: dry, browning plants; yellowing and curling of tomato leaves; the tomatoes won't set any more fruit (does a 2 1/2 tomato ratio to 8 plants strike you as wrong? One plant already full on withered and died), half of the seeds I planted never sprouted; there are ants, whiteflies, grasshoppers, leaf hoppers, other crappy plant-eating bugs, it is way too hot and sunny, and now...the gopher. At least, I think it's a gopher.
Do you remember the flat top hair styles of the '80's? Picture this as a good analogy for how my string beans look. One day they were bushy and flowering, and the next day they had been cut - chopped, rather - in half. Chopped. The peppers were the next to suffer missing appendages, and I have no clue why the little rodent isn't eating the other things. Picky, I guess.
I can't stand it. After everything we have suffered, we now have a RODENT to deal with! I wanted so badly to reap the rewards of a good harvest, and I am now reaping despair and anger.
I should have seen it coming. For a few days as I watered I saw evidence of a critter in the garden, but only in the shifting of soil and a few attempted holes. This went on for a few days without any of the plants being touched, and I started to almost feel violated, like the least he could do was take a few bites and not just be a sort of garden voyeur. He works at night and we have never seen him, causing deep speculation on our part as to what exactly "he" is. Then, he made his move: the bird netting was chewed through, the plants chopped straight like a mini rodent chainsaw had hit them, and my basil was absolutely decimated. DECIMATED. No one messes with my basil without consequences.
We knew we had to do something and do it quickly because every night the damage increased and more hair was pulled from my head in rage and fits of insanity. It's expensive to start a garden, and since the yield was oh, a few peppers and a handful of cherry tomatoes thus far, we knew we hadn't a lot of time. I started searching online for pest control companies, and thinking it might be a pack rat due to former comments by my neighbor (who, by the way, grows her garden with the greenest of thumbs. All she does is breathe on them and *poof* - nice, plump tomatoes, firm zucchini, and an all-you-can-eat-without-barfing-for-jealousy smorgasbord is yours to enjoy.), I indicated to Pat the pest control guy that this might be the case.
Pat graciously came and did a free inspection, and after he quickly ruled out pack rats, I breathed a sigh of relief (they are notoriously hard to get rid of and come on, they are rats) mingled with a deep-set hatred for our new culprit, a gopher or ground squirrel, and set out to eradicate the threat. After all, I now have a species to go with the damage. You have to know your enemy before you can properly fight it.
I really wish there were fewer pest control companies who sympathize with humane ways to get rid of pests, too. Strange that I couldn't locate any companies when I Googled, "horrible, painful ways to kill/maim/destroy/blow up/go after the relatives and posterity of gophers and other associated rodents." I could only come up with a few local chat spots with people asking how to get rid of the same, but the answers from the local yokels were more like the ramblings of one who sat in front of the computer screen all day playing Star Wars online and learning how to improve on the ol' burning bag of poo trick. Thanks for your help, guys.
Okay, okay, so my true colors come out. No, I am not trying to have charity for the vermin because I feel a deeper connection to the plants I have lovingly cared for since their births and who now sport fades worse than the entire cast of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." If someone makes your babies look ugly, there is no mercy.
Casey was kneeling on the floor and leaning over the couch the other day after playing with Gavin, just hanging out while I was doing something in the kitchen (probably eating, my true constant). Casey proceeded to pass gas in his usual loud fashion, and I said to Gavin, "Daddy's stinky!" Gavin went over to Casey, pulled up the back of his shirt, tried to look down Casey's pants and said, "Diaper change?" Priceless.
Has anyone seen my manners? I promise I had them a few weeks ago, but the weekend Casey's family was in town, I seem to have misplaced them. They must be somewhere with my dignity, which I have also misplaced.
See, I thought I could handle coming home from a 2-week trip to my parents' home and have only 1 day to prepare for a house full of company, and as it turns out, I couldn't. Oh sure, the house was cleaned (except my bedroom, which remained a complete disaster of the no-floor-space kind; this is where Gavin learned the word "disaster" and how to say it with a concerned and semi-dejected expression, just like his Mommy. I had hoped no one would enter the bedroom and see the explosion of neglect and lack of time, but who am I kidding?), the grocery shopping done (although I need to remember to stock up on the condiments next time, namely syrup and crunchy peanut butter - oh yeah, and soda...I mean, "pop"), fresh whole wheat bread just out of the oven, and I was ready for a weekend of fun and family.
What I didn't count on was that I would become a total monster for the duration of the weekend. Irritability, sulkiness, feelings of being neglected and un-complimented, the lack of desire to watch any more baseball...you name it, I WAS it. This may seem like a cop-out explanation, but I completely blame hormones. Ladies, most of you are "regular" gals who deal with this on a monthly basis, but being a woman in the body of a small, pre-adolescent choir boy renders me quite inexperienced with a regular hormone influx. Call me ridiculous, but this is the type of interaction that ensued:
Casey: That shirt looks nice on you, honey.
Brittny: You know, I'm feeling rather self-conscious right now and would rather you not say anything. (Retreat to kitchen to begrudgingly make meal.)
(Later) Brittny: Casey, you're not even giving me the time of day! I'd appreciate some more attention, here!
Casey, gingerly: Uh, the last time I tried that you shot me down pretty quick.
Brittny: What are you talking about? You've barely said one nice thing to me all day, much less talked to me.
Casey: I tried earlier to tell you that you looked nice and you told me not to say that.
Brittny: (With gradual realization of the sheer stupidity of her actions)...Oh...yeah...
While I certainly was in the throes of moodiness and teenage-like self-pity, I truly appreciate the actions of our family members who were nothing if not gracious as ever. Thank you, Cheryl, Jay, Cam, Jen, Trent, for over-looking my actions and determining to have a good time despite my lack of trying to help the process along. I promise to bequeath myself to the nearest trailer park should another hormonal episode like this try to creep up in the remotest sense and rain on our family shindig parade.
Lest you think there was no fun to be had, let me reassure you that there were bright points. We went to the Pima County Fair with Grandpa and Grandma where we enjoyed looking at the animals and eating a funnel cake (who goes to the fair for any other reason?). When Cam, Jen and Trent came, we hung out, went to the park and pool a few times, had a little birthday celebration for Gav, watched copious amounts of baseball, went to Golf 'N Stuff for the water bumper boats and batting cages, and had an encounter with an extremely obnoxious red-haired waitress. (Not Cheryl.) We loved getting together with everyone and hope that we can continue to help Gavin and his younger cousin get to know each other! We love and miss you all!
Grandpas are AWESOME
So telling.
No, Trent is not nursing - he's sleeping!
Warning! Action photos to follow:
We had a crazy April and I haven't had a real chance to blog until now due to travel, family visits to our house, and a monopoly on the computer for academic purposes. Casey's school semester is over now, however, so I finally get to use the computer for more than the time it takes to look up "garden soil fungi." Yippee!
We visited the Adlish family in Sparks for almost two weeks (Gavin and I did, that is - Casey left after the first 5 days in a huff because he couldn't hold the tree yoga position on the Wii Fit...just kidding. He left to go back to work.) and celebrated Easter and Gavin's 2nd birthday with them. The night before Easter, we sat down and dyed eggs together just for the fun of it. We certainly weren't going to hide those because we didn't want the cats to find them or Gavin to demolish them (read: crush, throw, step on, take a bite out of). It was Gavin's first time dying eggs, and he loved it! He took a timely nap on Easter Sunday which allowed us to fill almost 30 balloons with helium and place them in the living room as well as fill and hide plastic Easter eggs. We had a little egg hunt for him when he awoke, and he really loved pondering on the location and rejoicing in the spoils of candy-filled eggs. He wandered around "thinking" and saying, "Hmmm," as if he were playing a very difficult game. It was pretty fun to watch him gather all the eggs and get chocolate all over his face.
We then let him into the living room where he walked through a field of balloons, and he LOVED it! The price we paid for a party pack of balloons and helium tank was well worth the look of sheer joy and wonder at the ceiling full of color and magic. The few Blue's Clues balloons we had were a hit as well.
My mom's family and my Grandma Adlish came over for Easter dinner, which was rounded out with some yummy ham. Way to go, Grandpa! (He always buys the hams and Mom cooks them.) After dinner we sang to Gavin, ate spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and Blue's Clues on them, and had dangerous caramel brownies (Tina-style - you know the yumminess of these brownies if you have ever been a roommate of Tina's). Thanks so much, everyone, for the gifts - we didn't expect anything but to get together and eat! You are all very generous.
After that madness was over and Casey had gone home, we mostly hung out and went to the park a few times. Gavin is king of the slide, and he made sure that his Grandpa was there every step of the way! We had a great time and are so grateful to have such wonderful family. Thanks for everything, guys, and we hope to see you soon!
I found out I needed to shave when my two-year-old touched my leg and said, "Ouch!"
Costco sells caskets online. No kidding. I wasn't looking, I just accidentally ran across it.
I'm not as frugal as I thought I would be when it comes to the impending birthday of my child. I tell everyone else he needs no more toys, and then I go out and buy him a big fat toy (and several smaller ones a week ago that I am no longer counting as part of his birthday). Hypocritical? Yes. Destined to be a stinking pile of fun? Absolutely.
When Gavin says "stinky," he just might be referring to himself and his immediate need for a diaper change.
I don't have a green thumb, I think. My tomatoes looked upon me with a dismal, withering and yellowed look as if to say, "Pick up those dreams of canning jar after jar of tomatoes this year, sister, and get them outta here!" I reprimanded them for their rudeness, sprayed insecticidal soap in an effort to demolish the whiteflies, sprinkled ant-killing pellets around the garden boxes, and went back in the house as a tear slowly made its way down my cheek. I wouldn't have cried had the tomatoes not gotten so personal.
Spraying the aforementioned insecticidal soap on a windy day is not a good idea. Some of the spray may or may not end up in your mouth, giving you an odious taste in the back of your throat and the fear of poisoning by droplets carried on the wind.
I didn't actually get poisoned. Brushing my teeth helped considerably.
Gavin is a smart, smart boy. He learned that his magnetic blocks will stick to the door jamb of the linen closet. Good job, Bubby!
Gavin likes Coldplay!
That's all for today. I better go make cookies.
...you would have blonde hair and blue eyes while your parents both had dark brown hair and green eyes. (I swear it wasn't the milkman...he's a redhead, anyway - just kidding!)
...you would wake up with a smile on your face that would hardly leave at any moment of the day.
...you would greet your mommy in the morning in one of two ways: 1) "Good morning!" or 2) "Dada? Work. Not here." Yes, his mommy is a poor second-hand substitute for his daddy.
...you would eat as much as your mother and sometimes more.
...you would LOVE to watch Blue's Clues and would find each clue.
...you would sing the mail song from Blue's Clues with a hilarious gruff voice. Come to think of it, you would do the hand motions and dances to every one of the regular songs!
...you would LOVE to dance at any and all types of music.
...you would know the difference between having one object in your hand versus two - when Mommy puts something in each hand, you would say, "Two!"
...you would love to play the piano every single time Mommy plays it. Every time.
...you would notice absolutely everything.
...you would pick up words as soon as they are said. Daddy changes your diaper and repeatedly makes faces while saying, "Sick! Ew, gross! Oh, gosh!" Guess what comes out of your little mouth then? "Sick! Ew, gross! Oh, gosh!"
...you would look at your mommy and say with a smile, "Elmo!" every time Elmo's World came on Sesame Street.
...you would LIVE to be outside all day, climbing the rocks in the backyard, throwing dirt, "helping" mommy and daddy in the garden.
...you would notice every stray balloon that ever existed in any store in which balloons are distributed. You would also come running into the living room whenever you recognized a song from a commercial in which balloons are present.
...you wouldn't go anywhere without your bears.
...you would know three shapes.
...you would know over 100 words.
...you would put together 2-3 word sentences, like "Not here!" or "Found it!" or "Happy Birthday!" (That last one sounds like "Happy Day!")
...you would love to do the actions to the snowman song.
...you would not be able to sit still for more than a nano-second. Seriously.
...you would know the proper routines for every activity and hold your mommy and daddy to performing the correct actions associated with these activities. For example: we do the following when we go somewhere: go get shoes in the bedroom, put shoes on, run to the kitchen to turn on alarm system, run as fast as we can to the garage door while shouting, "Hurry, hurry!" and then open the garage door; say, "Car!" and wait for the car door to be opened, and hold our bear with our right middle two fingers stuck squarely in our mouth to suck on. All in that order.
...you might be loved to death by your parents, who demand hugs and kisses in copious amounts every hour.
...your favorite thing would be to "help" mommy and daddy do everything from take out the recycling to fixing something with tools (with your own tool set) to cooking and vacuuming and so on.
...you would be the most darling, excitable baby who shouts, "Yay!" at the end of Sacrament meeting when it is still quiet and everyone can hear that you are elated that you are stuck in the pew no more and can finally go to nursery.
...you would love to look at yourself in the mirror, but only smile and kiss your reflection if your hair is spiked. If it is not spiked, you would say, "Oh no!" and slowly rest your head in a dejected fashion against the mirror.
...you would sometimes throw tantrums, and when you were removed from common living areas would be heard to say, "Nice! Nice!" in an effort to calm yourself down. After all; you are allowed to come back to the family room when you can be "nice."
...you would be the best thing that ever happened to your mommy and daddy who could not dream up a more darling, wonderful, funny, precious child and are so grateful you are ours.
Gavin in "time out." Not working.
Gavin doing yoga.
What fu manchu?
One cool dude.
"Helping" Mommy play the piano.
When I was in high school, I met a charming young woman who would become one of my best friends and my creative mentor. Erin McNally, as she is yet called, is to this day the master of prose, and I asked her permission to share this gem with you all. Let's just say that everything she writes is not only this funny, but true, which makes it even better. She posted this story on Facebook a few days ago, and in the hopes that she will start her own blog to share her life with the world, I introduce you all to the master:
Desperate Times, Desperate Measures...Ok. This is an unfortunate story that I can't believe I'm about to share on facebook, but nonetheless, here we go. I almost think I need to write it down just so I can fully appreciate the ridiculousness - but then that's the charm in me =)It happened on a typical Thursday......my day was running along as planned, waking up after next-to-nothing sleep, school, rehearsal, all the usual insanity. As I'm driving home, looking forward to a little Grey's Anatomy to break up the monotony that is homework, and I decide I have a hankering for girl scout cookies. I mean, who doesn't love a thin mint? This should be a relatively easy task to accomplish, seeing as I have been watching overly eager young ladies virtually throwing boxes of cookies at any available passerby from every other street corner for the past two weeks. This is where our seemingly innocent little tale begins to spiral out of control. For starters, I never have cash with me. I don't know what I would do if the world suddenly rejected the idea of the debit card. So I pit stop at the house to scrounge for change - between my 'street parking' jar, the bottom of my purse, and various jacket pockets, I actually managed to come up with just under $11.00 (note to self - keep better track of loose money......) so I hop back in the car and drive the 3 minutes to the local grocery store, only to find.....no girl scouts! At 4:15pm! What is up with that? school's out people, let's get a move on! There's no room for slacking in Brownies! Now that I'm involved, I can't go home empty handed, so I proceed to drive by not one, but two additional grocery stores, and NOTHING! Where is everybody? On every other day, I can't escape the screams of "GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!" echoing from all over town, and then when I actually attempt to contribute, there is not a girl scout to be found. Needless to say, as a former girl scout myself, I find this level of dedication highly disappointing. By the time I make it all the way back home, barely able to concentrate on anything but visions of Samoas, I have crazily come to the conclusion that I just must have been a smidge hasty.....if anyone understands about homework, it's certainly me.......so I settle in at the piano, resolving to try again later. As if all of this hadn't already gotten completely out of control already, I actually went back to the first store I originally tried around 6pm, thinking that maybe the cookie sellers work in shifts and I might still get lucky. Of course, I show up there and surprise, surprise, not a girl scout to be found. I'm already at the store, that $11 burning a hole in my pocket, so I went right over the edge and picked myself up a 2 liter of Sprite (oh yeah baby, you know how I roll...) and a 12 pack of toilet paper that I had been meaning to purchase for awhile and that happened to be on an excellent sale. After all this, I'm heading out to my car, and what suddenly materializes before me?? That's right, freakin' GIRL SCOUTS!! Those tricksy little devils had shown up late and I had just spent all my cash on TP! I actually stood in the parking lot, cursing my timing, all the while being taunted by the object of my affection, until finally, I realized........the solution was right in front of me. I marched right back into the store and returned my toilet paper. Who needs it? (I can always borrow some if I get desperate, right?) As luck would have it, the customer service lady was the very same individual that I had harassed earlier about when the cursed cookie sellers were supposed to arrive, so I get the feeling she saw through my casual "uh, I decided i don't really need this....." approach. Not to be deterred, I walked right back out again and bought my Samoas and Thin mints, half a box of which I promptly consumed (without help......yikes). After coming down off my cookie high, and fully realizing that I had just returned toilet paper purchased moments before in exchange for girl scout cookies, I realized, this is how they get you. Some brilliant (albeit overly obsessed) troop leader decided long ago that if they only sell these things once a year that people won't be able to help themselves, and the girl scouts will be rolling in dough. And I fell for their evil little plan. I have effectively contributed to their eventual world domination - it's only a matter of time - and there I'll be - coconut and chocolate a plenty, but not a TP square in sight! Crap! (excuse the overly obvious punnage....I simple couldn't help myself) It's definitely back to baking for me.
