30 June 2014

Delivery For A Flower Child

I walked outside to throw something away and found a big gray bin parked in my driveway.

Okaaay.  Who goes around parking big gray bins in people's driveways?

Luckily, a note accompanied the foreign bin.  A note from the city recycling company.  Wait, what?  The unknown bin is a recycle bin?  Joy races through my extremities and exits through uptilted lips.  This is truly a landmark day.

I clutch the letter to my bosom for a heart-stopping moment.  Then, lifting the gray hulk, I wheel it to its new place next to its less glorified cousin, the garbage bin. Before I'm even back in the house I'm texting my husband.

"Honey!  Guess what?  We got our recycle bin today!  Huzzah!"

While I wait for him to respond to this glorious news, I begin reading the pickup schedule attached to the Welcome! letter.  It seems we have two weeks to try and fill the gray monster, pickups coming every other Tuesday.  My smile seems a permanent new fixture.

Bing. Bing. My husband texts back.

"You're that excited about a recycle bin?  You are such a hippie."


25 June 2014

With Silver Bells and Cockle Shell...

Those are my zucchini plants.  Yay!

So far, so good.

16 June 2014

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I know this little square of dirt doesn't look like much, but it has held a good portion of my attention for several days.  Every time I stand at my kitchen sink, I look out the window and see it.  I stand at the sliding door and stare at the dirt.

Six little tomato plants line the left and far sides, which I keep telling myself I will fertilize today.  Several handfuls of zucchini and peas have been planted, along with the rest of my fragrant wildflower seeds.  My daughter scattered the flower seeds towards the front, so when they come up, they'll be the thing I see out my window.

My father-in-law (bless his green thumb) came by and told me exactly what to do to make the food grow.  So, I'd really have to have a growing disability to screw this up.

Logically, I know I won't make the seeds grow faster by watching carefully, but I can't stop looking.  I'm afraid I'll miss something.  I'm afraid I'll kill something, which, considering my gardening history, is far more likely.

09 June 2014

Killing Time

Last week was about the busiest I've ever been.  So much fun, but non-stop.

First off, we moved.  (And are still kind of moving.  Haven't cleaned the old place yet.) We are no longer shoved into a two bedroom sardine can.  Although, I'm impressed by how much we managed to squeeze into that sardine can.  Impressive amounts of food storage and junk.  Our new place is four bedrooms and even has a basement.  Sigh.  It's love.

Next, my daughter and I went to girls' camp.  Monday until Friday of 20 girls and women in a lodge.  Luckily, we had hot showers, so at least we didn't stink.  But we also didn't sleep.  At all.

One day at camp, we hiked a couple of miles down the mountain to a lake and got to paddle around it in canoes and paddle-boats.  The young woman I was with didn't want to go on the lake until a lovely sister missionary told us we should go look for the crocodile that lived on the far side of the lake by the trees.  We jumped into a paddle-boat and aimed right for where we though the critter might be.  More or less, we drove right to it.

"Oh!  Look at it!  It's so cute!"  About three feet long, floating quietly, and painted wood.

Our boat sailed right over the top.  "Blast!  Back up!"

We back peddled, but it was too late.  The croc had gotten its rope tangled in our paddles and every time we tried to move, we could hear the poor little guy thumping against the underside of our watercraft.  Then the rope got wound so tight we couldn't paddle at all.  We had to ask someone to row their boat back to shore to ask for a motorboat to tow us back to the dock.  We looked so pathetic.  It was the ultimate tow of shame.

When we got back to the dock, the lovely sister missionary said, "I told you to find the crocodile, not kill it!"  She said it with a smile, but I think she was sad anyway.

After a week of that sort of fun, we went home.  To a MESS.  My husband, in his generosity, had moved all the big things from our tiny place to our larger place, but hadn't cleaned up anything.  So, that's been my job.

To top it all off, I've been sick all week.  I have the kind of cough that gives me headaches from the force they require.  It's awesome.