Tag Archives: plants

Your Honesty Shine Shine Shine

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Recently, we in Central Jersey had a notable earthquake. I say notable because to the best of my knowledge, I had never noticed an earthquake in my entire life. To be completely honest, I thought my washing machine, which I’d just started, was destroying itself in some particularly ostentatious manner and wanted me to know all about it, by which I mean the whole house shook and violent noise crowded out reason. My cats went flying. I have a blind cat. She seldom flies. I called my neighbor Andie. We met and she accompanied me to find out what evil possessed my washing machine. In the basement, we found a washing machine with a very innocent look on its face agitating in a very normal manner. My mind went blank, but Andie was already on Facebook, and people were talking. I still thought explosion. I live in New Jersey. Things explode all the time. Anyhoo, she called me a bit later and told me it was an earthquake, and we should expect aftershocks. It was at this moment I realized my irrational fear of earthquakes might actually be rational, and I did not see that coming.

My relationship with numbers is fraught. You think 12 and know what 12 means. I think 12 and wonder if 11 and 13 seem a little like they’re wearing yellow with brown shoes. Don’t do that! In fact, don’t wear colors you’ve ever seen in a diaper. If you’ve never changed a diaper, you might be surprised about the range in that color palette, and oh boy! Don’t stand next to me in the paint store.

Back to confusing numbers: this month marks 20 years since Paulie Gonzalez demanded I start blogging and created this website. I can’t believe Poor Impulse Control is almost old enough to drink, but I’m sure it’s been sneaking out with its friends to get fake IDs. I mean, who wouldn’t? If I were 20, I’d be giving it the old college try. And speaking of college, I retired from the unnamed university almost 2 years ago. I continue to run out of day before I run out of things I plan to do, but I 100% can’t figure that out. How the fuck can there be that much to do every day? Are days too short somehow?

Thing is: I wake up every day now happy. I don’t have to deal with a malignant narcissist trying to change what words mean, and I’ve let all that go. I wake up each day knowing I can study for classes I enjoy, hang out with my cats and plan fantastic dinners with Pete. My dean informed that if I’m not careful, I might accidentally get a college degree, but first I have to pass 3 semesters of Latin. So this summer, I’m going to try taking 2 summer classes in Latin and 1 in the fall. That’s a lot of numbers. I have no idea what they mean.

Yesterday, I started planting my garden. It’s early. In this zone, we’re not supposed to plant before Mothers Day, but my instinct for some years now has been to plant a month earlier. About 3 weeks ago, I felt restless and bought seeds at the local co-op, like a stupid amount of seeds, like $90 worth. It was ridiculous, but y’know. You might need a metric boatload of seeds. Yesterday, I planted beets. Today, I planted mesclun, spinach and other stuff. Tomorrow, I might go completely mad and plant potatoes.

Oh yes. Potatoes. In containers! See if I do not! Spring is here, and another year of my nonsense begins.

And Chewing Up All Those Letters

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That other rosemary bush is a dirty whore. I mean, just look at her!

That other rosemary bush is a dirty whore. I mean, just look at her!

Tell the cashier you're buying swirly straws for your plants. She's already looking at you funny.

Tell the cashier you’re buying swirly straws for your plants. She’s already looking at you funny.

Me I’ll Be Sitting By the Water Fountain

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Last week, I was waiting for the bathroom to warm up and staring out the window at the chicken coop, where one hen was scratching outside of bounds. At first, the sight was a little confusing. I wasn’t sure what that girl was doing, though I could see her and was sure I shouldn’t be able to because I don’t actually have xray vision and can’t see through chicken coops. The people of the chickens say there’s one who shouts, “PAPILLON!” and goes over the wall all the time, so: okay. Then I took a shower. It was a good and thorough shower in which I lathered my entire epidermis, later slathering it with moisturizing goo, making me feel rather well. Then I looked out the window again and discovered two more chickens going on the lam.

The first wave of seeds have sprouted just in time for me to go back to work. It is so inconvenient to have to make a living at the time when flora comes to life.

The first wave of seeds have sprouted just in time for me to go back to work. It is so inconvenient to have to make a living at the time when flora comes to life.

I called my sister Anya.

Tata: Hey!
Anya: Hey! What’s up? That thing you said on Facebook was SO FUNNY when pronounced in the original Middle English!
Tata: Thanks.
Anya: The three-part harmony was very niiiice, not to mention the day-glo tulips –
Tata: I have to tell you a thing.
Anya: You do?
Tata: I do. It is this: the chickens are loose.
Anya: Is that code for something?
Tata: No. The chickens are actually loose.
Anya: By that, do you mean they are badly assembled?
Tata: Nope. You know your friend I don’t speak to? Call her and tell her her chickens are loose and making a break for it. You might want to hurry.
Anya: Oh!

About five minutes later, She Who Is Not the Boss Of Me ran down her back steps and wrangled some hens, while I returned to my cramped schedule of smelling great and admiring my luminous, soft skin. Because I am so awesome.

And It’s Turning Out All

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This evening, I went out to pick herbs for dinner and found someone had invited himself or herself or deerself to dine. At first, I wasn’t sure what was amiss. The tenant’s giant squash plant looked a little squishy and a lot less giant, though it took a second look to determine why. The long golden flowers were all tucked into the planter but the elephantine leaves that shaded them were all gone. Suddenly, I was suspicious and crept around the outside of the garden fence. The tops of carrot flowers were nibbled off, but most of the garden was fine. Fortunately, I was staring at stems and crab-walking like a refugee from Mumenschantz when my neighbor, hosing down his broccoli, said, “Hey Domy, whatcha doin’?”

Only Grandpa ever called me Domy, so I stopped crab-walking to stare at him. Teddy, who looks exactly like his dog should introduce himself with a hale, “Peabody here,” is not properly afraid of me. He is fairly sure that I am crazy and will sit and watch his chickens do silly, chickeny things and he is right. He is looking at me now like he is considering his options, but I am not worried.

Tata: It looks like we’ve had one deer stop by on the way back to the bar. The brussel sprouts are a goner!
Teddy: I covered my broccoli with mesh – you know that wire mesh – I covered my broccoli with the mesh and I got perfect broccoli.
Tata: That’s…exciting. Someone looked over the fence here and found miniature cabbage leaves at eye level. But there wasn’t much else to eat.

I leaned on something Pete and I should remove at our earliest convenience.

Teddy: What is that, anyway?
Tata: It was a peach tree.
Teddy: It was a peach tree?

I rearranged a dead little branch to lean on another dead little branch.

Tata: It has gone to Heaven.

We both stared at the tragic little branches.

Tata: Well, nice talking with you. I gotta go slice the still-living limbs from defenseless plants. See you!

You may be trying to outrun a terrible memory. I tried to sew once.