We will blame it on the lack of sleep around here. But the headline hooked me in: “Police say woman hit estranged husband with tenderizer”. I know this isn’t funny. But I thought, She threw a bottle of meat tenderizer at him?
Sorry, ma’am, that is no way to “Try a Little Tenderness.” [Way too much like “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” for my taste, though at times I confess that I’ve wished I could grab a nice chunk of the “iron rod” – a metaphor for the word of God which is frequently used in the Book of Mormon – and beat the children’s father about the head and shoulders with it. But only metaphorically.] If you read the article, be sure to read all the way to the end, and then look at her picture. The very picture of aggrieved innocence. Or aggrieved something.
Not much knitting yesterday, but a whole lot of other good stuff. I took back the fiberglass planter and got the painting supplies and a quart of paint that I like even better than the one I thought I wanted. After church, there may be some Sabbath-bending involving a paintbrush.
I took the two 5-gallon buckets and a smaller one over to Secondborn’s house, and she drilled holes in all three bottoms and both lids. I picked up relatively healthy food from Wendy’s on the way home: salad, potato, and chili, and noshed away over the course of the afternoon.
My best friend came over with our mutual friend, and we had a great visit. Then I went to the la-di-dah nursery and bought a grape tomato plant, a Sweet 100 plant, and three basil plants and got them into the containers and thoroughly doused.
Next, I drove to Town Talk and got two varieties of fresh mozzarella and more of the wasabi ranch dressing and some other stuff; far less than I bought last time.
Then I wanted more company, so I called one of the Sisters of the Wool who lives nearby and set up an impromptu knitfest and posted the invitation on our board in case anybody else was interested. We had a nice, relaxed chat over our knitting.
When I could barely keep my eyes open any longer, I went across the parking lot to Central Market and got several portions of various fruits and vegetables. Brought them home and realized that I didn’t have anything suitable to contribute to the singles potluck after church tonight, so made a quick trip to Target. And after all that culinary virtue, I wanted ice cream and stopped at CVS for some Haagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche.
Yesterday was about a quarter of a tank of gas but not much cash outlay. And definitely not much knitting, about an inch while at the bookstore with my friend.
Somebody please explain to me why I got teary-eyed while driving home from the nursery with my plants. I looked at them in their little 4” pots and vulnerable stems and tender leaves and thought “What on earth have I gotten myself into? Now I have five more mouths to feed. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m scared.”
OK, so the smallest-of-gardens is not a lifetime commitment, and they don’t have to be potty trained or housebroken. And if they all die on me before next Saturday, I can buy another $9 worth of plants. It wouldn’t be like losing a beloved pet or a human being.
But there for a moment I felt as fragile and vulnerable as my embryonic garden.
One of the guys at the nursery suggested setting a lawn chair over the tomatoes for the first week or so. That would work if I had planted them directly into the ground. But (A) my lawn chairs got stolen, remember? and (B) my tomatoes are plunked into 5-gallon buckets. I would need a couple of spare barstools to do the job. I did notice some unused window screens in the back yard. I wonder if I could layer two or three of them and lean them against the pole for the clothesline?
Too much salt yesterday. I think I’m going to make another blender full of smoothies. And then I’m going to knit for awhile. Can’t wait for the sun to come up so I can go say good morning to my garden. [Hey, if a small garden keeps me from being the woman with 83 cats, that’s just fine by me.]
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!