30 Day Picture Shenanigans - Day 19

30 Day Picture Shenanigans - Day 19: Assorted Food Goodies

Today the child and I went to visit my grandmother.  We visited for a while, had lunch (girl-child opted for vegetarian tacos...apparently our reduced meat-intake is sticking with her), and the two of us picked the blackberries from the back yard.  (My grandparents have always had fantastic vegetable and flower gardens.  I did not inherit this talent.  I am, however, more than thrilled to suffer the 100 degree heat for a half hour in order to come home with a pint of fresh berries.)

They also sent us home with two tomato plants and a pepper plant.  My grandpa starts their plants from seed every year, usually from seeds that he has saved from previous seasons.  The pepper pot says "golden pepper" on the side, so we'll see what that turns out to be.  One tomato is a Big Boy (that name has always cracked me up) and the other is an heirloom that his mother used to grow.  These plants produce perfect little pink fruits that are fantastically sweet.  He told me he was saving these three plants for me so that he didn't have to throw them in the garbage.  (His garden is already overfilled with huge, thriving plants.)  I told him they would probably be better off in the garbage than at my house (especially considering the combination of drought and heatwave that we have been experiencing lately), but they already have flowers on them so I figured I'd give it a shot.  (They are sitting on my porch.  They'll probably be dead by morning.)

Short-lived pepper and tomatoes

On the way home I decided to make a stop at the Mars Cheese Castle. 

I have been thinking a lot lately about how people tend to overlook and under-appreciate the attractions in their hometowns.  I drive past this place all the time.  It used to be a little, old building, but it was recently remodeled to look like this:

Ridiculous, I know.  But so fun.  The child declared that she wants to live there. 

Every time I drive past, I laugh at the fact that people stop at the cheese castle on their vacations.  Then, I remember how much I love cheese and go inside.  The store sells all kinds of things from wine and beer to candies.  Of course, there is a fantastic selection of Wisconsin cheeses.  Mr. Sty and I love to spend some time selecting weird cheeses and then having cheese and crackers for dinner.  He is fond of the habanero jack (spicy, of course!) and old, old, ancient aged cheddar.  Don't get me wrong, their 10+ year cheddars are fantastic, but they run about $10-15 for a little block and I didn't have that kind of funding today.  I opted instead for a cheese marbled with buffalo sauce, a beer cheddar (no brainer...my two favorite things), and chocolate cheese fudge.

 
I have no idea what chocolate cheese fudge is, but I don't think it can be bad.  (I also feel this way about my ambition to make a bacon-flavored beer.  It will happen one day, I just have to figure out the process and set Mr. Sty to work.  But seriously...bacon beer?  Has to be amazing.)  We also got some white cheddar squeaky curds.  I'm told these are a regional food and that people not from Wisconsin find it really disgusting and weird that we like squeaky cheese.  Good.  More for me.  The girl child demanded that we buy some beef sticks.  (Apparently her vegetarianism has its limits, and those limits are ground, processed, tubular meats.)  The cheese castle makes their own beef sticks.  They are 2 feet long and child approved.

Anyway, as soon as we came home I promptly made myself some boozy blackberry lemonade.  I chucked some blackberries into a glass and mashed them up with a spoon. 

Blackberries in the Time Vortex 

 

 

 Dead Blackberries

(If I was fancy, I'd say that I muddled them with a fancy grinder thing, but I'm just in a hurry to drink, ok?)  I poured in some lemonade.  This makes a delicious treat for a kid.  Then I poured in the rest of a bottle of Malibu.  This makes a delicious treat for an adult.   (I always underestimate how much is left in the bottom of a bottle, which explains why I am buzzed at 4:00 in the afternoon.) 

Garnish with mint or something if you're feeling special

Hooray for summer!

30 Day Picture Shenanigans - Day 17

30 Day Picture Shenanigans - Day 17: Things My Daughter Does Better Than I

Most parents experience moments where they are caught in awe of their children.  This has been happening to me a lot recently.  Day (or post) 17 of the 30 Day Picture Shenanigans is about things that my daughter does better than I.

My daughter is better at savoring the summer.  I think all kids are.  Remember when summer used to seem like it was a year long?  Today was really fricking hot and this evening it was still in the high 80s and pretty windy.  She sat outside blowing bubbles despite the heat, basking in the sun

My daughter is better at enjoying the small things.

My daughter is also better at blowing bubbles.

My daughter is better at getting along with other people's children than I am.  While we're at it, my daughter is better at getting along with other adults than I am.  Also, she is better at getting out of awkward and/or boring conversations.  Apparently when you are 7, not answering direct questions while staring blankly at a person before walking away is still relatively acceptable.  My daughter is also better with animals.  I have always thought of myself as an animal lover.  It turns out that I don't actually love being around or near animals, I just don't want them to be abused or neglected.  For example, I like Gomer (the butter-loving cat).  I like his cat-weirdness and I found his morbid obesity to be adorable.  Now that he is expensive, underweight, shaggy, half-blind, and really fucking smelly (seriously, his breath is probably what is killing my house plants) I find that I don't actually want to spend any time around him.  My daughter will sleep with that stinky animal every night.  If he is on our bed, as soon as he starts making that annoying noise with his tongue while he's cleaning himself I use my feet to launch him into the hallway.  (What?  I like my sleep.)  Don't even get me started on my mom's Boston.

A couple of weeks ago the child asked if we had any seeds.  She has a flower box that Mr. Sty built her a few years ago that is filled with dirt and random weeds.  I dug around in a cabinet in the garage and found a packet of lettuce seeds and a packet of cucumber seeds that were at least two years old.  She asked for some brief planting instructions, then happily skipped off with the seeds and her little shovel.  Yesterday she ran in the house excitedly insisting that I go with her into the back yard to look at something.

My daughter is better at gardening.

She planted seeds that were years old and every one has not only sprouted, but has gone untouched by the backyard vermin.  Apparently wicked awesome gardening skills skip a generation.

Bastard cucumber seedling.  Had I planted this, it would be dead already.

I can only assume that my daughter is better at frosting a cake than I am.  (I think a quadriplegic would be a better cake decorator than me.)  She is also a better businesswoman than I am.  (She just asked if I would give her real money for some of her art.  I said sure, thinking a couple of quarters would suffice.  She said, "Okay, my art isn't that much.  Like, 2 or 3, maybe 5 dollars.")

My daughter is better at doing my job.

I'm sure that she will grow up to do all kinds of things better than I did.  She'll probably be a better parent.  (Although, when she was 3 she went into great detail about why she hates babies, so maybe not.)  She'll probably be a better cook, have her dream job, travel the world, drink better beer...  But I guess the goal of all parents is that your children be better people than you.  (So, really, if she does grow up to be an awesome person, that means that I kick ass too.  Ha!) 

30 Day Picture Shenanigans: Day 2

Picture Shenanigans: Day 2 - My Green Thumb

I'm going to throw out some phrases for you to think about:
Perfectly landscaped backyards; lovingly cultivated raised-bed organic heirloom vegetable gardens; urban homesteads complete with a small chicken coop and a rooftop beehive; beds full of gorgeous, unusual native perennials...

For some, these phrases invoke feelings of calm and peace. Maybe you've just been inspired to go pull the few stray weeds from your herb garden or sit in a reclaimed antique wooden rocking chair on your porch enjoying a freshly squeezed glass of lemonade while you watch the sun set. Or maybe the words above give you feelings of longing. Maybe they have inspired you to break into your neighbor's gorgeous backyard and sit on their Crate&Barrel patio set enjoying a beer. (Don't worry, they're at a Memorial Day barbecue and you have plenty of time before they get home.) Maybe you are experiencing feelings of rage and inadequacy. (It's ok, let it out.)

If you are anything like me, you will agree with the latter statements. I love an amazingly landscaped yard. I love planters and beds full of color and scent. I yearn for it and try year after year to come one step closer to anything remotely like these things. I have recently discovered something about myself: I fricking hate gardening. Oh, and to top it off, I really suck at it.

Evidence:
Me: How would you describe my plant-tending abilities?
Mr. Sty: I would say you have the anti-green thumb.
Me: I've kept that aloe plant alive...
Mr. Sty: Yeah, it was already full-grown and able to live in nothing but rocks when you got it, so...

I have decided to make my anti-green thumb the subject of Day 2 of the 30 Day Picture Shenanigans.

This is a rosebush. Was a rosebush. A friend was doing a major landscaping overhaul and gave me some perennials, including this rosebush. I have always wanted a rosebush. You can see in this photo that I placed (not planted) it in a planter by my front step, where over the course of 2 months it crusted up into a dead twig. Please also note that this planter was NOT purchased in some great gardening effort, but rather blew into our front yard last year during a particularly nasty storm.

This is a hanging basket which last year contained an ornamental kale (that thing that looks like a bath loofah) and some other random crappy annuals. I never took it down. The other day my neighbor's 5-year-old daughter looked at it and said, "Um, do you think maybe you should buy some other flowers to go in there? Because, you know, that thing is dead." I resisted the urge to yell. She is named after a flower, by the way.

This is my backyard. "Why does it look like you haven't mowed your grass in weeks?" I'm glad you asked! Because we haven't. It's like a jungle. I had to give my daughter a machete so she could hack a path to the swingset. Let me list some of the delightful things that I've managed to cultivate during the last 5 years: overgrown bushes planted by the previous owners, irises and day-lilies that would bloom even if they were on fire, burdock, an impressive supply of stinging nettle, buckthorn, mulberry, Virginia wintercreeper, massive thistles, and a sedum in a planter which was a gift from my mother when we moved in and continues to come back every year despite the fact that it gets no attention whatsoever. (That ball will probably stay there all summer.)

This is another part of the backyard. This climbing beast is a hop vine. The thing is out of control. I had nothing to do with this. Please note my attempt at laying down weed-control fabric and mulch in this bed. It looked nice for about two minutes. Apparently pet pigs like to root in, oh I don't know, EVERYTHING!

This is a tiny little bed right next to our deck. What's that you say? It looks like a clusterfuck? Oh, but it is! This little 4x4ish area contains rhubarb, a peony, day-lilies (those are apparently hard to get rid of), irises, VWC, mulberry (also a pain in the ass to eradicate), thistle, and creeping charlie (actually, our entire lawn in the back consists of more creeping charlie than grass).

I know what you're saying by now. If I just put a little work into it, everything would be fine! Well, let me tell ya, my enthusiasm for gardening lasts about one week. People bestow gifts of plants upon me. I (sometimes) plant them. I nurture them for a week. They die. Or, if they don't immediately die, they don't return next year. I think they might pack up their shit and hightail it to the other side of the fence where the grass is always greener (or where grass exists at all) and the fertilizer flows like wine.

This is an apple tree. A Prairie Spy, to be precise. It was grafted especially for me at an heirloom apple orchard almost a month ago. "Why does it appear to be inside?" I'm glad you asked. Because it is. When it was just a twig I put it in a glass of water with aspirations to plant it that weekend. (Ha! That's hysterical.) Then it started growing, which I'm rather proud of, except I know it's not getting any nutrients from nasty water and a sheet of Bounty, so I fully expect it to shrivel up and die before we ever get around to digging a hole for it.

Look at it tower from the kitchen table...

I feel the need to include pictures of some plants that I have not killed. In the foreground is a jade plant. This was given to me by my mother, a cutting from her fricking gigantic jade. (My mom can grow anything. She just looks at shit and it grows.) I nearly killed that jade in less than a month. All of its leaves and branches fell off until it was down to one main stalk and two leaves. My mom came over and had a conversation with it and now it's slowly growing again. The middle plant is a Christmas cactus. It is covered in dust and I don't think it has ever bloomed. I have knocked it down the staircase multiple times. It is still alive. I love it. The last plant is some weird vine that grows in a vase of water. This was also given to me by my mother. The original vine died, so she gave me another cutting. I was so proud when this one lived. My mom was babysitting my daughter frequently at that time. One day when I mentioned how super-fricking-awesome I was at keeping that stupid plant (that doesn't even need dirt) alive, she admitted that it had actually completely died again without me noticing and she had brought over an entirely new cutting. Apparently plants that live in water need water.

This is the aforementioned aloe plant, given to me by a friend whose aloe grows so well that she sprouts new ones from pieces of the old one and sells them. It is literally growing in fish tank gravel. I've only had it for a month. Enjoy it now, I'll probably manage to kill it.

This is my hibiscus. "But why does it look like that big fucking tree is in your living room?" I'm glad you asked! Because it is. If I put it outside, it blows over as soon as the wind picks up past 2mph. This was also donated to me by my mother because "this damn thing just grows too much! It's huge and continually makes gorgeous, fragrant, peach-colored blossoms! I pruned it back, yet it grows and grows! I'm sick of it!" Seriously, Mom? Seriously? So now it's mine. (I'd like to think that I rescued it, but let's be real.) It is not huge and thriving, but it is not yet dead. I have had it for a year. Just yesterday I remarked about how it is still living and my mother said "Hmm...yep, not dead yet."

Check it out! The thing even has a fricking bud! (Although it looks a little bit like my tree is trying to sprout rolls of sushi ginger, which just makes me hungry for spicy crab rolls.)

My daughter and I read a book about Georgia O'Keefe today, so this is a picture of an iris that may or may not actually be symbolic of some body part. You're welcome.

In closing, I feel the need to include this last picture. My daughter was painting while I wrote today. She had absolutely no idea what the subject of this post was.

She finished and proudly described the painting to me (emphasizing the bright flowers, clean birdbath, and short grass) then said, "Mama? I want our yard to look like that." You and me both, kid.