Fancy Dresses - March 30, 2023

Monday morning, I worked on emptying out the craft/office room to get the room ready for new flooring.  I unplugged all of the sewing/embroidery machines and boxed up all of the sewing supplies and took them to a spare bedroom.

That same night, Granddaughter #1 called and asked if I could shorten a dress for her.  She needs it this for "Oscar Night" at her high school this weekend (she has been nominated for something).  I told her to bring it over that night so we could mark the hem.  This is the dress:

I bought this dress for her a few months ago to wear to a masquerade ball.  It has four layers of tulle, interspersed with two layers of satin.  She wants to shorten it to just above her knees.  The thought of taking the scissors to that dress filled me with dread.  

The very next morning, I called a local dress shop that does alterations and asked if she could do the work by Saturday.  Yesterday, I took the dress to her.  She raised her eyebrows and said it would be Saturday afternoon before it would be ready, and she would charge $75 to do the work.  I told her I'd just try to do it, myself.

I came home and put the dress on my dressmaker's dummy (which would have gone to the attic earlier in the day if anyone had been here to help me get it up the stairs) and started to mark the hem.  It became obvious that this was going to be a huge mess.  And I hated, hated, hated to cut off that lovely dress.  Who knows what that tulle will do when I take off half the length?  It might turn into a tutu!

Granddaughter will be going off to college this fall.  She may join a sorority, and she may need a formal-length dress for a party.  I really hate to chop it up.

While at the dress shop, I had noticed that it was full of short, sparkly party dresses.  

I called the granddaughter and asked if she would be free to go dress shopping Friday after school.  She said she would.

After we talked, I finished marking the hem, just in case she doesn't find a new dress that works.  If she doesn't find one, we'll come straight back to my house, and I'll cut the dress off - a little at a time - with her in it.  

Nasty Surprises - March 28, 2023

This weekend, we bought a new vacuum cleaner.  It cost more than my first car, a 1978 Pinto, stick shift, no A/C, no radio.  The feature that sold me was an air-cleaning system that is supposed to reduce household allergens and dust.  We have a lot of dust, and perpetually snotty noses.

I put it to work that very afternoon.

The first thing I did was vacuum our mattress.  The saleslady said to use the power bar (or whatever it's called - the thing you use to vacuum the floor).  It vibrates, which supposedly alerts the dust mites in the mattress to come forward to feast, whereupon it yanks them through the fabric and drowns them in the water tank on the unit.  She said the water would look foamy.  Boy, did it ever.  I was ashamed.  We have always used a mattress pad, which gets washed (or at least tumbled in the dryer) on a regular basis.  I don't know where dust mites come from, but I thought I had protected us from them.

The new vacuum cleaner spurred me on to clean the rest of the room.  It has wall-to-wall furniture.  I started with the sewing cabinet left of the bed and worked my way around the room.  There were nasty surprises on the west wall.

First, when I vacuumed the baseboard behind the 6-ft-long, non-working, 1950s stereo cabinet (which belonged to The Husband's grandmother and brings him fond memories), a good-sized chunk of the baseboard got sucked into the vacuum cleaner.  It was powder.  The wood came out, leaving the paint standing.  TERMITES!  OMG!  This was fairly new, for it was not apparent the last time I vacuumed behind the stereo, which, admittedly, was a couple of months ago.

Next, when I scooted the never-used treadmill away from the wall, there was a dead mouse under it.  He couldn't have been there for long, else we would've smelled it.  I said, Oh my god, there's a dead mouse under here! and went to the kitchen for the broom and the dustpan and handed them to The Husband and said, "You gotta do it."  We moved the treadmill a little more and found a big spider under it.  I can't help but wonder if the spider killed the mouse and had been feasting on it.  The Husband said he thinks he got the spider.  I saw some spider legs smushed on the floor while I was mopping up the mouse juice; hopefully, if he ain't dead, he ain't gettin' around too well.

Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, but I woke up the next day without a snotty nose.

Today, the termite man came this morning and sprayed the baseboard and did the outside of the house again.  Gosh, I hate poisons, especially inside the house, but I hate termites, too.

Good thing we have an air-purifier now, eh?  

Progress - March 27, 2023

Over the past 8 days, there has been sporadic but significant progress in the un-assing of craft supplies at my house.  It had to be done.  

Last week, I summoned my inner warrior and bagged up 8 or 10 kitchen garbage bags full of fabric and gave them to a friend, who further distributed them among other friends.  Collected stuff that needs to go to the attic.  Organized stuff into "genres" and boxed it up.  Threw away a whole bunch of random stupid junk.  At the end of the day, I needed painkillers, but was feeling pretty good about the level of ruthlessness I had shown in getting rid of stuff.

Yesterday, I worked on our bedroom.  This room does not need new flooring, but the 

Last night about 10 p.m. - I was already in bed, reading a book - for some unknown reason, I thought about the un-quilted quilt top that had been stored in the cabinet with the fabric I gave away.  This quilt top was allegedly pieced by The Husband's great-great-grandmother.  (I say "allegedly" because the fabric looks too new.)   I remembered seeing it in the cabinet when I pulled out the other fabric.  But did I save it, or did I accidentally bag it with the rest of the fabric?  I got out of bed and looked in a couple of places where I might have put it.  It wasn't there.  Ohshitohshitohshit....

I woke up thinking about this around 2 a.m.  Got up, checked another few places.  Not there.  Went back to bed, worrying.

The first thing this morning, I checked the one likely place that I hadn't already checked, and ta-DAAA, there it was.  Whew.

Since I was in that room, I went back to work sorting/boxing.  Most of what was in the craft/office room is now in a spare bedroom.  Most of it will go back into the room, only in a better organized way.  

Hah.  Right.  ;)

Duffy Ain't Here - March 26, 2023

The Husband came out to the porch about 6 o'clock tonight, very nearly dancing with excitement.  "Good news!" he announced.  "Duffy's going home!  To-NIGHT!"  Our son was on his way to get the beast.

I felt like dancing a little jig, myself!

Went right inside and started washing out his messy "wet" cat food bowl and his dry cat food bowl, and reclaimed the dessert bowl he's been using for a water bowl, and gathered up his belongings.  We saved the cleaning of Duffy's luxury litter box (complete with mood lighting, and a ramp for his highness' convenience) for The Son to do.

Not gonna lie . . . I won't miss Duffy.

But I love his name.  (Not that we used it; we called him many other names.)

I always wondered how they came up with "Duffy."  It was a couple of months before the idea occurred to me that he probably got it from Grandad.

Son #2 and Grandad were tight.  My dad loved babies.  He and my mother babysat all of the grandchildren, but #2 was the last baby in the house, and Daddy doted on him.

Daddy was goofy as hell when he wanted to be.  He irked the crap out of my mother with his shenanigans.  One of his favorite things to do was to answer the phone crazy, and his favorite crazy phone answer was, "Duffy's Tavern.  Duffy ain't here."

Hah!  Here's to you, Daddy.  

Duffy ain't here!  :)

This has been a frustrating week.  

For starters, we've been cat-sitting for Son #2 this week.  He is a long-haired cat, and everything in my house is coated with cathair.  He is obstinate.  I have told him multiple times not to get on the kitchen table or countertops, and I'm fairly certain that he understands the word "NO!"  Still, I catch him on the table.  The second time it happened, I told him to get off; he responded with an f-you look.  I whacked his behind, which sent him packing, and evidently taught him a lesson.  He has learned that he'll get his butt whacked if he's on the table when I come in the room, but it hasn't taught him not to get on the table; it's only taught him to jump off and run away when I come in.  

He races us to our chairs when he sees we are about to sit, and he rolls over on his back to have his tummy scratched.  The Husband will do it, but I won't.  I will run him off.  

We've been making him stay in a spare bedroom at night and when we are not home.  Yesterday morning, I got up early, poured a cup of coffee, and settled down in my recliner to read before letting the cat out of the bedroom.  The cat did not meow to be let out of the bedroom.  Instead, he went into the adjoining bathroom and began slamming the cabinet door.  Repeatedly.

Our son and his family will be coming home from their vacation today.  We and the cat may be sitting in their driveway when they get home.

The other thing that has frustrated me this week is my job.  I don't have any work to do.  This weighs on my conscience.  When I first started this job, I had a lot to learn, and when I did not have any specific task to do, I spent my time educating myself by reading books, taking classes, and watching webinars.  After six months on the job, I've run out of make-work.  I am beginning to feel like a "kept woman," without the luxuries that go with that profession.  I am seriously considering retirement.

On a lighter note, our grandson spent part of the weekend with us.  He and The Husband had a guys' night out Friday night, going to the theater to watch a movie.  He spent the night with us Friday night.  Since he was small enough to sit up in a highchair, he has loved breakfast at our house, so yesterday morning, we fried bacon and made mushroom/bacon/green onion/cheese omelets.  (Now that he's 15, his palate his matured.)  ;)  Later in the afternoon, I took him to a video game store.  The plan was to run by his house for clean clothes on the way home.  But when he got home, he discovered that he did not have any clean clothes, so he chose to stay home instead of coming back to our house.  I suspect the new video game had something to do with his decision.  

On another happy note, take a look at the tomatoes!

I gave them a dose of fertilizer last week, and they are growing like crazy.  Now, I'm worried that they will be ready to plant in the garden before it's time to plant them.  

At the risk of jinxing myself, I am hoping that we've seen the last of freezing temperatures this spring, and that these tomatoes can go outside to harden off pretty soon.  I really wanted to get and early start this year on prepping the garden soil for planting, but it's rained so much this month that we have not been able to work.  We've still got a couple of weeks before a safe planting date arrives, but it's supposed to rain again this week, which will set us back again.

First Day of Spring - March 21, 2023

The first day of Spring 2023 dawned dreary and rainy.

One of my first acts this morning was to go outside and set the groundhog trap.  It may have been an exercise in futility, since we've seen the groundhog only when it's been sunny and somewhat warm, but one can hope.

Yesterday afternoon I heard the trap rattle and looked over my shoulder just in time to see the groundhog disappear down the gulley.  The trap had not been set (we spring it at night so we don't catch a 'possum or a 'coon), but there was bait in it.  I guess the groundhog was trying to burgle the vegetables through the wire.  I went out and set the trap, but it was getting late in the day and I didn't see him again.

We're over-run with critters, I tell you.

Son #2 and his family have gone on vacation and have left their cat with us.  "Duffy" is a 1-year-old Ragdoll cat, and may be the biggest cat that I have personally ever seen.  He is HUGE.  And he never meows or purrs.  After he'd been here, silent as a rock for three days, I texted my daughter-in-law and asked if the cat has any vocal chords.  That very evening, he meowed (once) for the first time since he'd been here.  He's not much trouble, except that he wants to jump onto the kitchen table and the countertops.  He's so heavy that it takes him a minute to gather enough strength to make the leap, so while he's fixing himself to jump, I have time to yell, "NO!"  Like he cares.  He jumps anyway.  He keeps eyeing the windowsill where my violets are.  If he knocks my violets off the windowsill, he may be a former cat by the time his family comes home.

I am especially worried about him terrorizing my tomato seedlings.  We've had freezing temperatures during the past week, so I moved them inside to my sewing table.  They are doing very well, so far, but I have seen cat hair stuck to the leaves; he's been up there when I wasn't looking.

Note to self:  I fed the tomato seedlings yesterday.

I must get rid of some stuff.

I must get rid of some stuff.

Our flooring was already messed up last week when rain filled up the septic tank and water seeped out from under the toilets.  It ran under a bathroom wall into the kitchen, where a previous leak had already buckled some of the laminate planks.  (I've been telling The Husband, "We've got to replace this flooring before one of us trips and breaks a hip.")  Nearly every room has some kind of issue.  

The office/craft room where I now work is the worst.  It has a hardwood flooring that was ruined when a cracked window leaked water into the room.  That happened years ago, but the room is PACKED FULL of junk - er, craft supplies - and will be a pain to empty so that installers can work.

Yesterday morning, I started emptying the china cabinet, which is full of nothing but cheap dishes and "keepsakes."  I acquired these dishes 20 years ago, a few pieces at a time, when our local grocery store was giving them away with purchases - plates one week, cups the next, etc.  Even bought all of the extras, like casserole dishes and pitchers.  Next the store did flatware.  Got a bunch of that, too.  At the time, son #2 was engaged to be married, and I had the crazy idea that he and his new wife might want/need them.  Crazy, I know.  Anyway, in the china cabinet were at least 18 place settings of those grocery store dishes.  I kept a dozen of everything.  The rest is boxed up and in my car.  Tomorrow when I go to the office, I'm donating them.

But where to put the ones I kept?  The 35-year-old dishes in our kitchen cabinets were chipped and crazed.  They're in the car, too, along with random cups and glasses we never use.

The next thing to tackle was a big, triple-door cabinet full of fabric and home-canned goods.  Made room in the kitchen for the canned goods and bagged up all the fabric - 8 kitchen garbage bags full, plus some plastic tubs.  

The bookshelf was next.  

I posted all of this stuff on social media.  "Free!  Come get it THIS WEEK if you want it!"  Saturday, what's left is going to the dump.  

When The Husband found out I'd emptied the china cabinet, he asked if I'd kept Granny's pepper sauce jar - really just a cruet.  I had forgotten that the cruet had belonged to his great-grandmother.  It was in the car with the other dishes.  We went to the car to find it.  In the boxes were a set of mugs that don't match anything we own.  They're big, and they take up lots of space in the cabinet.  I replaced them with 12 of the grocery store cups.  When he saw the mugs in the back of the car and started to snag one, I asked him to step aside, closed the hatch, and said, "NO!"  

With all of this stuff out of the cabinets and in bags/boxes/tubs on the floor, there's only a path through the room to the utility room.  Once everything is donated, I'll have to pack up the stuff I'm keeping and put it somewhere until the flooring goes down.  Then we have to do the old office - the one with four bookcases FULL of books, multiple ukuleles, amplifiers, and computer equipment.

If I hadn't already started this process, I might just take a chance on breaking a hip.  ;)

Class of '78

The Class of '78 said farewell to one of its most beloved classmates today.

Dee, age 62(ish), died of a heart attack in the shower about a week ago.. 

The funeral took place in the gymnasium of a local elementary school because a church wasn't big enough.  And it was nearly full.  Black folks, white folks, brown folks . . . .  Everybody loved Dee. 

The Class of '78 turned out en masse to pay tribute to their friend.  Many of them dressed in black and orange, their school colors.  The Husband had a hard time finding an orange tie this time of year.

The Class of '78 started kindergarten together.  Little innocent children don't know nothin' about black and white.  They just love each other.  This group grew up together.  They fought, they played, they made up.  They went to middle school and high school together.  To this day, they keep in touch.

Dee beat up B.W. in elementary school because he needed it.  That same day, B.W. got a paddling from the teacher for fighting with Dee.  Two whippings in one day.  

He flew in from another state to speak at her memorial service.  

He said he lost the fight.

We came home after the funeral, changed clothes, went to a birthday party full of little girls.  

Little girls scream for no apparent reason.  

About 6 p.m, B.W. sent a group text:  "I'm at [the local mexican restaurant].  Where are y'all?"

The Husband's phone went to dinging.  "On my way."  "Be there in 10 minutes."  

The group gathered again.

We drank a lot of margaritas.  Shared some stories.  Swore to get together more often.

Dee would've been there, had she lived.  And she would have run the table.

Tomato Seeds - March 11

We're making progress.

The tomato seeds (4 varieties) were planted March 1.

On March 7, one tomato seed had sprouted.

Here they are today, the 10th:  

I'm surprised they sprouted at all.  The dirt is mostly bark.  They've been on the back porch since the day they were planted.  It's been warm, it's been cold (but not freezing). 

They'll be some tough sisters if they survive.

The Pissiest Day, Part 2

Thursday, Day 2 of the job fair:  

After a night of fitful sleep, I got up at 4 a.m. and turned on the coffee pot.  My feet were so sore that I could hardly walk.  My shoes had rubbed blisters on my feet on Tuesday.  After I'd been on my feet in wet socks and shoes for five hours the previous day, the blistered skin had peeled off with my socks, and there was raw, exposed meat on the tops of a couple of my toes.  I seriously considered crapping out of "volunteering" for day 2 of the job fair, but eventually I band-aided my toes, put on my biggest, comfiest shoes, and went to work.  

It was raining again.

At 7:00, I was sitting at a table in the warehouse, eating a biscuit and drinking coffee, when Mentor arrived.  She said, "Good morning.  I didn't expect to see you here again," dropped her stuff on the table and walked away.  I finished my breakfast and went to find her to see if there was anything specific that needed to be done before the school kids arrived.  She was standing in an aisle, listening to another volunteer tell her what a great job she was doing.  I walked up and waited for a break in the conversation.  When she saw me, Mentor told the volunteer about the caterer's issues of the previous day, after which she looked in my direction and said (grinning like the Cheshire cat), "and he may need our help again today."

I said, "Well, he's not getting me."

I could see her temper flare and did not care; working with the caterers again was off the table.  

She started to say that she was going to tell The New Boss on me, but she caught herself and said, "I chopped lettuce, too!" (which I thought was weird) and walked away.  She was a bit cool to me for the rest of the day.  

I ended up herding groups of students for the remainder of the job fair.  We had scheduled the buses to arrive in 15-minute intervals so that we could get one group in, give them their swag bags, and disperse them onto the floor before the next bus arrived.  But the buses started arriving and unloading kids as much as 30 minutes early, and we were having trouble getting one group on their way before the next group poured in.  We volunteers had to make a human barricade to keep the groups apart.  

The teachers/chaperones had been told that the students would have two hours at the job fair.  Their departures had been set at 15-minute intervals like their arrivals.  Evidently, the teachers watched their clocks like hawks, for they began to gather their students for departure after two hours, regardless of what time the schedule said they were to leave.  We ended up with the same clustering at the departure door that we'd had at the arrival door.

On top of this confusion, it was raining and cold, and the students could not wait for their buses outside.  At one point, there must have been close to 400 kids gathered at the departure door, blocking the aisles so that the new arrivals could not get to some of the exhibits.  We had to change the plan and move them all to the arrival door, which confused the bus drivers who were told to pick them up at the back door.

It was a cluster-f***.

As the last two groups were gathered to leave, one of the exhibitors packed some stuff into a rolling cart and headed to the front door, where there was a set of metal steps (wet from rain) to navigate.  One of the volunteers told him that he could use the ramp at the other side of the room, which was closed off by a mechanical door.  She asked me if I knew how to work the door.  I did know how, so I led the man to the door, pushed the button, and let him roll his cart down the ramp.  As the door was closing, Mentor showed up and screamed, "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO OPEN THAT DOOR!  DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR!  THE STUDENTS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO GO OUT THAT DOOR!"  

I said, "It wasn't a student; it was a vendor taking some of his stuff out."

She said, "VENDORS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO LEAVE UNTIL ALL THE STUDENTS ARE GONE!"

I said, "Well, you'd better get on the P.A. system and announce it, because they're streaming out the other door like water," and I turned around and walked away.

Thankfully, we volunteers were not responsible for cleaning up the warehouse after the job fair.  As soon as all the students were gone, I packed up the stuff that Mentor and I had brought (hand sanitizer, signs, etc.), loaded them into my car, and took them back to our office.  Then I skedaddled home.  

In retrospect, I believe Mentor thought I was mad because she had asked me to help the caterer.  I wasn't mad, period (at least not until she screamed at me about the ramp door).  I didn't mind chopping vegetables and serving food; I was tired and cold and wet and in pain.  

Frankly, I'd rather chop vegetables than herd kids.  

I did not go back to the office on Friday.  I half expected The New Boss to call me at home and fire me, or at least chew me out, but he didn't call.  Maybe he'll fire me Wednesday, when I'm scheduled to be in the office again.  

One can hope.

The Pissiest Day - March 8, 2023

This has been just the pissiest day, and it's only just 2 pm.

For starters, I had to leave for work at 6 a.m. to be at an off-site work location (in another county) by 7 a.m.

This is gonna need some back-story.

(Sorry.)

I was asked to help a co-worker with a 2-day job fair for 8th graders.  At the time, I'd just started my new job and didn't have much work to do.  I was happy to do have something to do, plus this lady was kind of a supervisor, of sorts, kinda.  Mentor, maybe.  So I hoped.  Until this week, about all I've been assigned to do is make spreadsheets for my mentor.  This week, I ran errands for her.  Don't get me wrong - I VOLUNTEERED to run the errands, because she was busy and visibly harrassed, and I felt sorry for her, even though I'm feeling more excluded than mentored, but that's another story (I'll spare you that one).

Today was the first day of the job fair.  It was supposed to be over by noon.

I left the house early - but not much early - to run by a drive-thru for a biscuit and a large coffee.  At the window, I handed the girl my debit card, and she handed me a small coffee.  I asked, "Is that a large coffee?"  She said, "No, it's a small.  Did you want a large?"  I said, "Well, I ordered a large."  She said, "No problem," and got the coffee, and said, "That'll be [however much it was]," and waited.  I said, "You have my card."  She looked for it, couldn't find it.

Bitch done lost my card.

And then I got to thinking . . . maybe I HADN'T handed it to her.  Checked my wallet, checked the car seat, checked between the car seats, checked my lap. . . .

By this time, chick is panicked, and there's about 4 employees in the drive-thru window, frantically looking for my card (and I'm thinking, Is anybody left back there to make my biscuit?).

Finally, they find it, and give me my biscuit, and I hit the road.

It was about to rain when I got there - a giant warehouse, with bay doors open for the exhibitors to drag in their stuff and wind whipping in.  It wasn't so bad, since I was wearing a jeans and jacket and a volunteer t-shirt over a turtle-neck sweater and nice, warm socks.  I put down my stuff and got busy showing vendors to their booths, and after a few minutes, my mentor came and said that the caterers had FOUR PEOPLE not show up for work, and asked if I could help them serve breakfast for the vendors.  I said sure, and went to help them.

Outside the warehouse was a big tent where the serving tables had been set up, and on the other side of the tent was a food trailer and a u-haul van.  In the caterer's crew was the caterer, himself, an old lady (the caterer's 75-year-old mother), another lady with a wretched bad knee and a bad attitude, a black dude in a rain slicker, and a white dude who has ADD (he told me so) and didn't need to be given more than one thing at a time to do (mama told me that).  

Bad knee lady was manning the serving table alone.  I put on some gloves and started dishing out eggs and bacon while she served biscuits, pancakes, and sausage.  After a minute, she nabbed some other volunteer to take her place, and she disappeared.  Then the volunteer said she had to be somewhere, and she disappeared.  By this time, we were running out of food, with people still trickling in.  Bad knee lady was nowhere in sight.  I went looking for more food.  It was drizzling pretty good.

White dude was in the food trailer making coffee.  He wasn't in charge of the cooking; he was in charge of coffee.  

I went to the u-haul.  It had rained enough that I had to tiptoe through a puddle between the u-haul and the trailer.  The caterer was in the van, scrambling eggs on a griddle.  He said he needed a pan to put them in, so I waded back to the tent, got a pan, waded back to the van again, waited for the eggs.  While I was waiting, black dude came in [I just saw the groundhog walk across my back yard] and when he started slamming some boxes around, a mouse ran out from among them and scampered down the ramp.  

Wet ramp.  And me with a pan full of hot eggs.

Naw, I didn't slip.  That's the one good thing about the day.

I ended up chopping a crate of English cucumbers in the van, shredding dozens of chick thighs, and then the caterer asked me to make slaw.  There were supposed to be "at least four" bags of slaw in the refrigerator.  There were three.  I made the slaw and served it until it was gone, and then I was put to work servicing the salad bar, and when I went back to the trailer for more vegetables, I overheard the bad knee lady telling the white dude that we had run out of slaw because I was serving too much to each person.

By this time, my feet were sloshing in my shoes, and I was cold all over.  I didn't bother to tell the woman that we had run out of slaw because they hadn't brought enough.  I thought, "Screw you, lady," and headed to the warehouse to get my stuff.  I was leaving.  Saw my mentor on the way out, and pointed my finger at her and said, "Don't ask me to do this next year."  

So I drove home, and when I got here, The Husband's truck was in the driveway.  I hurried inside to find out what was wrong, as he should have been at work.  He was on the phone when I came in, seemingly in good health.  There were towels scattered on the floor outside the bathroom.  At my quizzical look, The Husband covered up the mouthpiece and said, "Shitter's full."

A perfect ending for the day.

That's 1 - March 7, 2023

Can you see it?  Can you see it??  

One tomato is up!

Gonna Need a Boat - March 4, 2023

It was raining when we left for our junkin' trip last weekend and has rained nearly every day since.  It's been windy, too, windy enough to tear loose some of the clear vinyl panels we installed last fall.  At least it's been warm enough that it was comfortable to work at my day job on the back porch.   

There was one gloriously sunny morning last week, and between tasks I took a moment to listen to the birds chattering and glance around the back yard.  From where I sat, I could see that the sugar snap peas I'd planted a couple of weeks ago had come up and were thriving.  I congratulated myself and got back to work.

A short while later, as I was staring into space, trying to come up with wording for an e-mail, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye.  It was that @!#%& groundhog.  You may recall that we trapped a couple of groundhogs and hauled them off - errr, relocated them - last year.  Evidently, they've come home.

I decided to watch it for a minute to see where it would go.  Even grabbed my phone to video it.

It went straight to the sugar snap peas.  

Looks like we're going to have to become trappers again.  But since the armadillo tore up the live trap, we'll have to make a run to the farm store, first.

Tomato Seeds Planted - March 1, 2023

Today was the day I'd picked for starting the tomato seeds I found in the freezer.  It might be a tad early, but at least if they don't sprout I'll still have time to get new seeds.

I got to thinking about my sprouting set-up on the way home today.  I had not yet opened the "tabletop greenhouse" that came in a couple of weeks ago, but judging from the size of the box, it seemed too small.  This thought was running through my mind just as I was approaching our local Stockdale's store.  It sells seeds and gardening tools and chemicals and a million other things.  I whipped into the parking lot and went in, hoping to find a better "greenhouse." 

They didn't have one.  But I came out with a flimsy new seeding tray and a bag of what I THOUGHT was good seed-starting mix (the writing on the bag seemed small and faint - could be my eyes).  Anyway . . . .

I came home, put away the groceries I'd picked up, and gathered up my seed-starting supplies.  The "tabletop greenhouse" looked pretty small - way too small to accommodate the whole flimsy seedling tray.  I whacked the tray down to size and discovered that there was room for 40 seedlings.  Forty plants would be enough, so I prepared to plant.  

When I opened the good "dirt" I'd bought, I thought, "Jeeeeesus," it stunk so bad!  And it didn't look like SOIL.

Turns out, it was chicken sh*t, meant for mixing with dirt.  Fortunately, it came in a zip-lock bag, so I zipped it back up and took it out to the porch.  

In the cabinet on the porch was a half-bag of potting soil - plenty for filling the seeding tray - that had been twisted shut and secured with a rubber band.  I put the bag in the sink, and when I opened it, a cloud of gnats came out.  I twisted it shut right quick, and put it on the porch with the chicken sh*t.

A conundrum.

After some deliberation, I decided to do the planting on the patio table instead of the kitchen counter, where the gnats would escape outside when I re-opened the potting soil bag. 

This potting soil is the worst stuff I've ever seen for potting soil.  It is mostly wood slivers/chips.  This does not seem to be a good medium for sprouting seeds.

But, whatever.

I planted tomato seeds in it, anyway, and set them on the back porch under the tabletop greenhouse lamp (which seems to be about 2" too short to do the job properly."  

If it gets cold again, I'll have to bring them in.

Maybe any remaining gnats will have moved out by then.

P.S. - Beware, Zone 7; the mosquitoes are out, and they are those tiny mean ones.