With a whopping four hours of sleep in, ...
I went seed shopping. I haven't yet submitted the orders, because, well, I don't have $150 to spend on seeds and, even on little sleep, I know it. Why do I do stupid things like try to feed birds, and then squirrels and then try to garden? Oh, and there's, of course, jewelry-making and knitting and cooking dishes that are far more extravagant than need be for survival. Oh, and my yard and garden need fun little wooden or concrete structures. Oh, and, while we're at it, let's make some really expensive lotion.
Someone needs to take a 2" x 4" to my head. Don't tell Mr. Neighbor, however, because he'd love nothing more than to do just that.
I've got to figure out what I can do without. Watermelon? Mexican sour gherkins? (Why must they sound so tantalizing?) Tomatoes? Eight kinds of tomatoes? Tomatillos? (Forget it, they're in.) Peas? Onions? (That I fail miserably at every single year.) Pak choy? And on and on and on. Most of the stuff won't grow or will become so pest-ridden that I need to vomit at the sight of it. $150 could get me quite a bit of produce over the summer at the farmers' market. More than I would likely see from $150 worth of seeds.
The other day I stupidly wrote to the community garden head honcho (or one of them) to ask about getting a second plot for the sole purpose of growing herbs and flowers. I really should write her back and say, "Nevermind." I have a couple of shopping carts filled with $150 worth of vegetable (and one fruit) seeds, and neither cart includes a single herb or flower. I shudder to think what the price tag might be if they did.
My neighbor across the hallway has the barest of bare apartments. (I know this, as I've crawled in her window before to open her door for her. (She's locked herself out (a good many times), and, she, being a little on the bigger and less limber side (if you can imagine anyone bigger and less limber than I) couldn't squeeze through her own window. Being the ultra-gracious person I am, I did it for her.)) I have no doubt that the bareness of her apartment is not of necessity but of desire--or lack of desire. Sometimes I want to ask her if she has any interests whatsoever. From the looks of her apartment, it seems the answer is no. I sort of wish I could give a few of my interests to her (or anyone else, for that matter). I have too many to control or afford.
Someone needs to take a 2" x 4" to my head. Don't tell Mr. Neighbor, however, because he'd love nothing more than to do just that.
I've got to figure out what I can do without. Watermelon? Mexican sour gherkins? (Why must they sound so tantalizing?) Tomatoes? Eight kinds of tomatoes? Tomatillos? (Forget it, they're in.) Peas? Onions? (That I fail miserably at every single year.) Pak choy? And on and on and on. Most of the stuff won't grow or will become so pest-ridden that I need to vomit at the sight of it. $150 could get me quite a bit of produce over the summer at the farmers' market. More than I would likely see from $150 worth of seeds.
The other day I stupidly wrote to the community garden head honcho (or one of them) to ask about getting a second plot for the sole purpose of growing herbs and flowers. I really should write her back and say, "Nevermind." I have a couple of shopping carts filled with $150 worth of vegetable (and one fruit) seeds, and neither cart includes a single herb or flower. I shudder to think what the price tag might be if they did.
My neighbor across the hallway has the barest of bare apartments. (I know this, as I've crawled in her window before to open her door for her. (She's locked herself out (a good many times), and, she, being a little on the bigger and less limber side (if you can imagine anyone bigger and less limber than I) couldn't squeeze through her own window. Being the ultra-gracious person I am, I did it for her.)) I have no doubt that the bareness of her apartment is not of necessity but of desire--or lack of desire. Sometimes I want to ask her if she has any interests whatsoever. From the looks of her apartment, it seems the answer is no. I sort of wish I could give a few of my interests to her (or anyone else, for that matter). I have too many to control or afford.