5/9/11 – Monday

Man, what an active (for me) weekend I had. It’s going to take me all week to recover! Saturday morning we left the house a few minutes before 9:00. The local high school sells vegetable plants every spring, and though we’d discussed telling the garden to go to hell this year and buying all our … Continue reading “5/9/11 – Monday”

Man, what an active (for me) weekend I had. It’s going to take me all week to recover!

Saturday morning we left the house a few minutes before 9:00. The local high school sells vegetable plants every spring, and though we’d discussed telling the garden to go to hell this year and buying all our produce at the local farmer’s market, in the end we really like growing our own veggies. So rather than start from seed again, we decided to see if the high school had the plants we wanted.

We ended up buying 12 tomato plants (Celebrity and Park’s Beefy Boy), 6 cucumber plants (most of the cucumbers I planted before the storm made it through, but a couple hadn’t, so I wanted to fill in where the dead ones had been), some cayenne peppers (luckily, most of the jalapenos we planted before the storm were still standing), yellow squash, zucchini, and eggplants.

We stopped by Lowe’s to buy a few things, stopped by the Co-op to buy seeds so Fred could replant the corn and beans, and headed home. Once we got home, I pulled the push mower out of the tractor shed, and mowed around the raised beds where I’ve got spinach, radishes, purslane, romaine, carrots, and radishes growing. Fred put up a fence around those beds a few weeks ago so that I don’t have to worry about Maxi, Newt, and Coltrane using them as litter boxes, and the grass had gotten pretty high.

It was so pleasant, working outside, that I told Fred I’d mow the back yard if he wanted, but he suggested that instead I mow around the perimeter of the back forty, next to the fence. He usually mows that with the riding lawnmower, but can’t get close enough to the fence with that, and the resulting weeds at the fence line annoys us both.

I took the push mower out to the back forty (which is about two and a half acres) and did three circuits around, followed the entire time by Gracie. Then I cut the grass in the maternity chicken yard, and I was just thinking about mowing the pig yard when Fred came out. He hauled the lawnmower into the pig yard for me, and we talked for a moment. He turned to leave, I took a step back, and my boot was immediately grabbed by the quicksand-like mud in a wallow the pigs we had last Fall had dug, and for a moment I thought I was going to be stuck there forever and ever.

(Or until I pulled my foot out of my boot.)

Fred grabbed my arm and held on while I pulled my boot out, and then he headed on his way while I started mowing the pig yard.


The pigs we’ve had in that yard have done so much rooting and digging that there’s not a bit of flat land to be found, so I was continually getting stuck. And pretty much the left back quarter of the pig yard is swamp, and I was doing my best to cut the grass there despite the calf-deep mud, and after I’d made one circuit around the outside of the pig yard, I was all “FUCK THIS” and gave up. I think it took me about 45 minutes of struggling to get that much done, and the sweat was pouring off me, and my face was bright red.

I was so exhausted from the pig yard ordeal that after I ate lunch, I took a shower and changed clothes, visited with the McMaos, and then took a 45 minute nap.

We didn’t do much but watch TV Saturday night.

Sunday morning I got up and immediately got dressed, did all the usual morning scooping and feeding, and then headed outside. I filled five containers with soil, put them in the fenced area where the raised beds are, and planted a different kind of herb in each container. Garlic Chives, Dill, Cilantro, Lemon Basil, and Lemon Balm are all planted and I’m ready for them to sprout, the sooner the better. I also have a packet of catnip that I need to plant, but didn’t have enough containers (or soil, for that matter), so that had to wait.

Then, because I am a blithering idiot, I asked Fred if he wanted me to mow the yard around the blue coop (newishcomers, the blue coop is what used to be our chicken coop until Fred made a much larger coop and fenced in the back forty so they’d have more room to roam. The blue coop is still there – and a sturdy building – and we were talking about finishing it out and making it an extra space for foster cats, but I don’t know that we’re going to do that. I really prefer to have fosters in the house with us. But in any case, the blue coop yard is still fenced in, and hadn’t been mowed in a long time.) He said that would be great, so off I took my stupid self to mow the stupid blue yard.

The swamp in the back third of the blue coop yard makes the swamp in the pig yard look like…. well, okay, maybe the pig yard swamp is worse, but the blue coop swamp was bad enough, and I mowed as much of the blue coop yard as I could before I told Fred I was done. Part of the problem there is that there are a lot of branches down in that yard, and I had to mow around the ones I couldn’t move, and it was a huge pain in the ass.

Then I planted the tomatoes and cucumbers we’d bought. As I was planting, I discovered that four of the tiny tomato plants I’d planted before the tornado were actually standing – but still pretty tiny – so I left them where they were, and planted around them. After I planted the tomatoes we’d bought, I went over to the compost heap and dug up three of the volunteer tomato plants that have popped up (one of them already has flowers!!!) and planted them at the end of the row.

I have 18 more tomato plants coming this week (I’ve gotta have my Sungolds!) and may dig up a couple more volunteers from the compost heap. So despite the fact that I said repeatedly last week that if we were going to replant the tomatoes we were not going to replant 45 of them because that’s far more tomatoes than we need, it looks like we’re going to end up with about 44 plants.

Way to make a stand!

What can I say? I like tomatoes! We haven’t really had a decent tomato harvest yet, but hope sure does spring eternal.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing laundry, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen, and making dinner before settling down for the evening in front of the TV.

Now I need to make a run to Sam’s and maybe Walmart, need to take all our recycling to the recycling center, and need to swing by and pick up a few groceries.

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Sweet little Dorothy is still in the guest bedroom for the time being. She’s being treated for parasites, poor girl, and despite the fact that she’d dearly like OUT of her room and Jake and Elwood and Rufus would dearly like IN her room (more because of the kitten food that’s in there than out of their desire to see the kitten), we have to wait to introduce them ’til the medicatin’ is done.

However, Rufus is a stealthy little man, and one day last week he apparently snuck into the room when I was leaving it, and I didn’t realize it.

I went in about ten minutes later to find this.


The little hussy.

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Despite my insistence that they stay tiny little babies forever, the McMaos seem determined to grow up. They practically grow right before my eyes, and I DON’T LIKE IT.

Cillian is particularly long. Hee. He’s like a kitty dachshund!

“But… I WANNA grow up to be a big boy and kick the butts of all other cats!”

Ciara decided my foot belonged to HER, and spent a good five minutes rubbing her face on me.

Serious little Cillian.

An idea forms…

Stage 1 of implementation…

Total capitulation. Well played, little man.

I know it’s rude to post a litter box picture, but the thousand yard stare makes me giggle every time.

Fergus Simon of the spotted belleh.

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Sugarbutt, recovering from his vigorous weekend of sleeping.

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2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: She just didn’t want to start eating food until SHE wanted to and once she decided she was ready, there was no problem.
2007: Cleaning is my favorite thing ever, you know, so it was a happy, happy day for me.
2006: 18. Have you ever been in a fight? Nothing stronger than a slap-fight. Are you kidding? I’d shit myself and pass out before anyone got a chance to hit me.
2004: No entry.
2003: You know you’re hormonal when the video for Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” (hee! I almost typed “Fancypants”) makes you all teary-eyed.
2002: It rocked. I loved it. I see a strong love for sushi in my future.
2001: I’ve managed to stay strong.
2000: Poor, poor pitiful me.