Name that Cookie

 

Name your favorite type of cookie.

Huh. Here’s a topic that might spark more interest. “Name the kind of cookies that Jesus likes.”

And before anyone decides to accuse me of being rude and blasphemous, I could quite possibly be referring to my friend ‘hey-seuss’. Who shall remain anonymous and imaginary but I’m just sayin’.

I’m leaning strongly towards oatmeal date, because 2000 years ago there were probably not a lot of cookie recipes floating around in the desert, never mind ingredients and ovens and cookie sheets and cutters shaped like zoo animals. But my reasons of course don’t matter, since the prompt wants me simply to ‘name’ something. No explanation necessary. No deep thought required.

Just give me something big and chewy and loaded with sugar, named George, for all I care. That should shut me up until tomorrow.

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From This Moment

Well there’s a Shania Twain moaning whiner of a song that makes me shudder.  And has nothing whatsoever to do with this post, which is about this moment in time.  Which is why it will be categorized in the “Just Now” file.  Orphan Which clauses undo me.

But back to the moment.  The flower bed in front of our house has seven (count ’em – SEVEN) brand new BUSHES planted in a lovely row across the west three-quarters of our house.  Two of them are gooseberry I think.  One of them is already flowering, and the others I think are supposed to flower eventually, but if they don’t and decide to simply remain GREEN that will be completely acceptably pleasantly satisfactory for this budding shrub grower.  I just picked up random partial sun/shade growers from the perennial shrub and tree area, not even considering the fact that the stupid front lawn tree is gone until I got home.  There went a large part of the shade.  There is still the crazy overhang of the roof though, and the fact that the flower bed faces NORTH and gets only the morning sun.  When there actually IS morning sun.  GAWD this capitalization of random words needs to STOP.  I remember a couple of the little plastic information sticks said to expect growth to no more than five feet (although I don’t know if I looked for that on all of them, come to think of it) so hopefully nothing gets tall enough to block the view from the bedroom windows or knock off the roof overhang.  No worries, I’m very good at trimming.  Mostly because I’m never sure something is actually a weed until it gets big enough to be recognizable from the street and somebody tells me.

There are also three partially grown tomato plants in the back bed with brand new bright yellow cages (because either I threw out all the old broken metal ones or W did or he hid them somewhere obscure because I can’t find them) and one of them already has tiny little green tomatoes on it.  The plant of course, not the cage.  Although even if there are never any more tomatoes of any significance the cages are pretty awesome.  Adding a splash of brilliant color to the back yard.  They should match the yellow flowers on the bush that’s already flourishing back there.  What a relief when it finally turned green again for another season.  So this is how I garden.  Purchasing at exorbitant prices things that are already very strongly established and unlikely to croak while resigning themselves to my care.   The plants I love the most are the ones that adapt to me, being mature and hardy enough to continue to live in spite of whatever strange things I choose to do to them.  Ignoring them completely being very high on the list of possibilities.

I no sooner had my grand landscaping adventure completed when suddenly a gigantic Salisbury truck and trailer pulled up beside the next door neighbours front lawn and proceeded to rip up all their grass.  Damn.  Keeping up with the Joneses.  Impossible.  I’ve been watching the progress (or lack thereof) (they seem to have a lot of guys hanging around taking breaks) and there’s no sod down yet because they’re putting in some kind of bordered rock bed all around the house and now it looks like some kind of artistic horticultural rock infested thingey which is going to make my tree stump directly across from it look rather unimpressive in comparison. Sigh.  I can’t begin to imagine what all that must be costing them.   And how sad it’s going to make our front yard look when they’re done.

My sister Ann is coming for a visit, thus my sudden gardening sense of urgency.  Normally I would not think of doing any of this until well into the summer when it’s really too late to bother.  But her yard could be featured in a horticultural magazine, as could my brothers, and he and my sister-in-law are going to be here too, at least overnight, although I can’t count on the visit being entirely in the dark.  So I had to do something to save myself from being the subject of their pity and eye rolling and head shaking conversation about my rather serious botanic impairment for at least half their trip back home.  That could happen anyway, but on the bright side,  at least I will not have struck them dumb.  I hope.

Yesterday I bought a little wooden-like outdoor side table.  Not exactly a patio set, but it’s a pathetic start.  It’s made of all recyclable materials and absolutely  looks like natural wood but without the care required.  Big points from me for that.  Our Adirondack chairs are in a very sad state and probably no longer usable except maybe for firewood, so I was just going to bring out some canvas lawn chairs with the drink holder things in the arms (kudos to the brilliant inventor of those things) but I can find only two of them!  The rest must be at camp.  Honestly, for the garage being stuffed full of stuff it’s kind of amazing that there is nothing truly useful in there.

And speaking of firewood….which we weren’t really, but suddenly we are now because I just remembered something…..we no longer have a fire pit in the back yard because W. gave away the cement blocks and now there is just a little raised circle in the concrete filled with dirt and soot and possibly ants for all I know.  What the hell am I supposed to do with that?  Are there plants that thrive in soot?  It so sucks being agronomically challenged.  With a spouse like W. who thinks a pile of chopped wood is a perfectly acceptable back yard lawn decoration.

Ah well.  Better not get started on W. or we’ll be here all day.  He is down east again, probably for most of the summer, fishing his little brains out while I hold down the fort here in the burbs.  Trying to remember to water things.  And fertilize!  Crap!  I forgot to use those tomato spikes!  If I don’t do that RIGHT NOW I will no doubt discover the unopened package in the garage sometime after labor day.  Plus venturing outside will give me a chance to check out the progress next door.  And I have a little side table to put together and a soot filled hole to consider.  This is day four of my ‘time off from work’ which I refuse to call vacation or holiday, since it’s so far been rife with plant management related vexations.  Such a hard life I’m living.  Trying to stay focused on tomato spikes while I wrap up this fleeting moment in time.   Agriculture calls.  You probably do not want to hear my less than poetic answer.

I’m Saving Up

Saving up my energy

For all the stuff I gotta save.

Time in a bottle.

Nickles and dimes, and pennies in a jar.

My breath, my bones, my bacon.

Zip files, work sheets,

Drafts, attachments, changes.

The day, the trees, some time.

My voice and my own skin.

Water, whales and dolphins,

The oceans and the daylight.

Rain forests in the Amazon.

Recipes in a box.

God Save the Queen

So I don’t have to.

Also Nemo, Private Ryan.

Save the Moon for Kerdy Dickus.

Save my marriage, save my life.

Save my soul and save the fallen.

Save me if I’m drowning.

I’ll save the best for last

And the questions for later

If you save the last dance for me.

Save your tears and prayers and wishes

For the times that really matter.

Saving face and saving grace.

Save this bleeding heart of mine.

Save the children

And your heart and your goodbyes.

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Zodiac Arrest

Whatever you want or are trying to find may be hidden somewhere, Taurus, because
today’s entry of the Moon into your sign signals that you’re going to have to
dig for it. You’ll need to follow up on all leads and be willing to get your
hands dirty. You may even have to surrender some of your leisure time in order
to find what you’re seeking. Persistence is your key to success today; try to
find a little curiosity about what’s going on to go with it.

What the hell is that all about?  That’s what I asked myself when I first read todays horoscope.  But then suddenly it all came clear.

There are no plants in my flowerbeds that are not dogwood or weeds.  I’d be able to see that by the entry of the moon if I were foolish enough to wander out there in the middle of the night, but seriously, the sunlight is more conducive to checking out that kind of thing.  Which I may need to do, since there definitely could be more interesting plants hidden somewhere in the dirt.  God knows I’ve planted enough of them over the years and am eternally surprised when anything survives long enough to grow back for the second time.   Dig for it, get your hands dirty, surrender some of your leisure time.  Sod you, horoscope.  But I know you’re right.

Get thee to the Salisbury Greenhouse and set your curiosity free.  Find out what will grow in spite of you.  There’s got to be something.  Ask those guys behind the counter that are supposed to know what they’re talking about.  Even when you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, they have been trained to figure it all out with the end result being the part where you hand over a lot of money and then pack many green living things into the trunk of your car and drive home very slowly wishing you had a ‘plants on board’ sign for your back window to explain to following motorists why you are taking no corners at warp speed.

So, what?  You didn’t get all that from todays reading?  Come on.  All it takes is a bit of introspection and a warped imagination.  And then one must just ‘go with it’.  I meant to go to the greenhouse yesterday but it was Saturday and probably crazy busy and besides, there was no SIGN from the stars like there is today.  Now I can no longer put this off.  The planets have aligned.

Worst Flight

 

Is there anybody out there who loves to fly?  Who wakes up in the morning with the fervent wish to just hop on a plane and fly around for hours and hours? Do pilots and flight attendants dread having a day off where they have to content themselves with wandering around on the ground? Maybe that’s the thing that needs complaining about. I don’t get to fly to Paris for breakfast today! Damn, my life sucks. But I could if I really wanted to. There’s a certain beauty in that.

Travelling from one place to another has never been my favourite thing, but when it becomes necessary, I’m happy that there are so many choices in how to get from here to there. And so far flying is the fastest. Everybody has had a “bad” experience on a plane; screaming children, long delays, crazy turbulence, a seat mate from hell, luggage lost, cookies tossed. The ultimate worst case scenario would be to crash and die, and if you keep that in your mind while you’re zipping through the air at ridiculous speeds it makes the rest of your complaints seem a bit silly.

So I’m very reluctant to pick one particular flight out of the many I’ve taken and gripe about it. Because every one of them got me to where I was going or got me back home in one piece and here I am, alive and happy and able to talk about it, and not so annoyed that I’ll never do it again.

Life is short. And in the grand scheme of things, so are flights. How incredibly lucky we are to live in an age where travelling anywhere in the world is possible. All you have to do is buy a ticket and get yourself and your passport to the airport and the rest of it is all done for you. Think about that when the in-flight movie is boring crap. Your flight might not be perfect, but it’s perfectly amazing that you get to take it.

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Start the Day

There is something orange in the long green grass. She stands at the kitchen window, barefoot, still nightgown clad, looking into the backyard at the long stretch of overgrown garden that they’re going to turn back into lawn. The grass there is now almost a foot high, tall enough to sway and ripple in the breeze. The coffee pot gurgles and sputters beside her and outside the orange thing leaps.

Well, it really was no springing bound and barely fox-like. The second attempt at a hurdle ends in an ungraceful galumph. But kudos for getting out there and trying to act like a normal cat, she thinks. It can’t be easy.

She has noticed him before in her yard just passing through, looking like a short and rotund fuzzy orange blimp. The fattest cat she has ever seen. This jumping thing is new. There must be lots of creepy crawlies in the long grass that need pouncing upon and he’s giving it his best shot. Surging vault number three. But this one appears to have done him in. He sits and nonchalantly gazes off somewhere in the distance to give the bugs the impression that he no longer cares.

She pours her coffee and leans on the counter cradling the hot mug in both hands, takes that first invigorating sip. Watches the cat pause, consider; perhaps in this ones case, catch his breath.

Suddenly a magpie flaps his way overhead and lands with a squawk on the flat board on the top of the fence. He turns around, stomping his little bird feet, and then he gawks down at crouching orange thing in the grass. Cocks his head. Waits for what will happen next.

The wait is not long. There is no spring left in the cat’s repertoire this fine morning. Perhaps he has had previous altercations with magpies and does not fancy another one at the moment. Or maybe someone just called him home for breakfast. Either of these reasons, or some other mysterious cat notion, gets him up and off and running. Okay, more like lumbering, but moving away from the bird at a pace that’s faster than his normal calm meandering.

The magpie squawks some more. Where are you going? What kind of cat runs away from a bird? Hey! I’m talking to you! And then he takes to the air and is off in search of better less lame adventures.

All is quiet in the garden plot. She was going to get out there this morning and weed whack that long grass to start the process of getting it ready for sod. Maybe today, maybe not. There’s no hurry, really. She tops up her coffee cup and turns away from the window.

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Acquired Tastes

What foods will I never develop an acquired taste for?

“Never” sounds so final. I don’t think I will ever eat bugs, but if they’re all that stands between me and starvation, it’s possible that I could suddenly acquire a taste for them. One NEVER knows. Never say never.

What about drinks? Well what about ‘what about’ questions that don’t really ask you anything specific and therefore get answers that are tentative and vague? I don’t like egg nog. I’ve never tasted axel grease but what about you please don’t put any in my coffee.

What’s the most recent purchase that I regret making?  That would be jar of mayonnaise number three. Seriously. Mayo does not have eternal shelf life. I need to start paying closer attention. There’s only so much potato salad you can ingest before you want to quietly lie down and die.

Have I started making any summer travel plans? No I have not. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to sit at home and watch my grass grow. In between stretches of filling in for co-workers who put themselves down for holidays in July and August without consulting me first. Morons.

What’s worth paying top dollar for? Horticultural Services. I did not know this until a couple of weeks ago when the lawn care dream team came to my house and power raked and aerated and edge trimmed and zipped around the property front and back with about six lawn mowers at once. It was a beautiful thing to witness. I would have paid double for it. There is of course no need to tell them that and risk having them get all cocky about what a great job they did. I’m thinking about consulting their fully qualified horticulturist to see if there are any organisms in the vegetable kingdom that don’t require water and will grow in the shade. Neither of my thumbs have even the tiniest hint of green anywhere on them. My mere presence appears to cause plants to wither and die. Perhaps he will tell me plastic plants are the answer. There, look at all the money I just saved myself.

Name a movie that you still haven’t gotten around to seeing……too late! I just watched it a couple of days ago. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 1. The most cinematically rewarding chapter yet. That’s what the box says. Horcruxes, lethal snakes, perilous missions, the tragic death of a house elf – this movie has it all.

What social media faux pas bother me the most?

Social Media = Facebook

Faux Pas = embarrassing social blunder or indiscretion

Bother = annoy, worry, confuse

All of the above being set in stone, I would have to say retarded status updates.

Retarded = birdbrained, dim-witted, totally gorked

Okay, are we there yet? I think that gets me all caught up on the latest gorky prompts.

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Work it Out

HAHA!  Three of my favourite songs to listen to while working out!  What exactly is ‘working out’ again??

I love listening to Queen.  And they have FIVE songs that I think would set the proper mood.

Death on Two Legs

Another One Bites the Dust

Who Wants to Live Forever

Fat Bottomed Girls

Save Me

I’ll be putting those on a workout playlist.  Yes I will. You betcha.  Uh huh uh huh.  Make the rockin’ world go round.

Coffee or Tea?

I’m going to drive my old jaloffey

Down the road to Manderhoffie

Where I’ll buy a cup of coffee

In a shoppe that’s called Gaddafi

It will taste of cream and toffee –

Never floffy, tart or doffy.

It will make me feel quite boffy!

Hoffy, poffy, and yumoffy!

They do make the best damned coffee

In the town of Manderhoffie.

Though their tea is quite put offey.