In funny news, a conversation with Dj upon waking a few days ago:
Me: Babe, I had a nightmare about snakes.
Dj: you had a nightmare about Jonathan Frakes?
Me: no, snakes.
Dj: was it his beard??
I laughed really hard.
For those of you not gifted with the genetic addiction that requires a steady stream of Star Trek in regular doses, Jonathan Frakes is this beardmuffin:
He didn't always have that disgusting thing hanging off his face. Here he is in better days:
|"helllllooooo miss lady"|
Anyway, his beard is a pet peeve that will plague me through the next four seasons, so I can't blame Dj for his estimation of its nightmare inducing potential.
In gastroenteritis news, I made the cheapest dinner possible by throwing together some quesadillas, opening a can of beans, and "making" homemade salsa by adding onions, chili powder, and garlic to a can of pureed maters. It was delicious but I need to run in exactly 12 minutes. I don't want to puke on the side of the road. What to do, what to do.
In my quasi-mennonite dreams, I am a long lost cousin-sister-niece-half godchild of Laura Ingalls. I want a farm, I don't have a farm, so I've turned my 1/5445th of an acre (really!) front walkway and back patio into my own little barnyard. Livestock: mosquitoes, chipmunks, very rude squirrels, a bunch of birds, snails, slugs, spiiiiiders, spittlebugs, praying mantii, and lots of worms. Vegetation: four hot pepper plants, four tomater plants, 16 basil plants, one zucchini plant, six pumpkin vines, a variety of lettuces, celery, and a rogue cilantro growing under my rhododendron. I guess that's pretty impressive!
The zucc is the giant dinosaur plant taking over the other six. The rest are in the back. The pumpkins are in the middle patch of grass that I may or may not have dug up without permission. Promise I'll reseed before we leave.
Is your weekly need of non-sequiturs satiated? You're welcome!
Bless your heart,
The soil whisperer.