vituperation

Questions from comments:

Hi Fred. If you get the chance, could you enlighten us readers about your method of growing tomatoes? I’m going to grow some in my garden for the first time in years, and I’ve read so many different ways of doing it that I’d love for someone to cut through all the bull and tell it to me like it is- like how far apart to plant them, when to plant them, which varieties are good, how deep to dig the hole, what you use to support the vines, how you keep the animals from eating all the fruit etc…. I like to hear tried and true methods from people- it’s very helpful!

Oh, boy. My method is pretty much the “winging it” method. I stick some seeds in potting soil, add a little water and Miracle Gro, and let nature do the rest.

When they get bigger, the plants like to spread, so I planted ours about two feet apart last year. We had 30-35 plants in a 70-foot row. For support, I caged every tomato, which was a massive ass-pain. This year, because we have so many more plants, I plan to drive t-posts into the ground and run a row of field fence down either side. I figure the plants will grow through the holes in the fence and use that for support. If they get too big, I’ll start tying the long branches to the fence with twine.

Please bear in mind I’ve grown tomatoes in a garden exactly once.

Is your foot still improving?

I’m not sure. My elbow (tennis elbow from all the drilling/screwdrivering) is the big problem these days. As an experiment, I’m trying 30 days of a single dose of an anti-inflammatory, to see if I can get it to heal up. A side effect of the pill is no foot pain.

Unfortunately, all it does is reduce the elbow pain, and I’m unwilling to take more pills because I don’t like the way they make me feel. I imagine I’ll be going to the orthopedic doc soon and asking for an MRI and a cortisone shot in the elbow.

But…my foot was still hurting less than before, before I started with the pills.

Since there is no way in heck my husband and I can become ‘green’ eating meat in our current abode I am seriously thinking of going vegan.

Thanks for opening up the mind.. And I mean that truly.

If anyone goes vegan because of me, I’m seriously going to feel like I’ve failed at life.

It’s no secret that I love a challenge. Nothing makes me happier than accomplishing a goal, no matter how big. If you’ve read me for any length of time, you probably already know about some of the big goals.

What you may not know is that I love the small challenges, too. My day is filled with them, these little challenges:

Like I said, I love them.

What I really love, though, is when someone else is involved in the challenge, to make it a little competitive. Some people may think I get too competitive in my games, but they just don’t understand.

Robyn gets into these little challenges with me, because she understands me. We’ll see who will leave an item sitting on the kitchen table the longest, or who can pack the most trash in the kitchen trashcan without taking it out to the big garbage can, and then we laugh about it when it’s over. Especially if I win.

We entered one such challenge a couple of weeks ago when the tube of Crest in the bathroom started to get low. Each day, it got a little flatter. At night, I’d come into the bathroom to find her already brushing her teeth, a knowing look in her eyes. I could feel her mocking me while I meticulously used my thumbs to work the remaining paste up the tube so I could squeeze some out onto my toothbrush.

Day after day the battle went on, and every day it got a little harder to work the toothpaste out. But I prevailed. I thrived.

Last night, it came to a head. I squeezed and squeezed, and got nothing. In a panic, I slapped the tube down on the counter and thumbed it desperately to work some toothpaste up to the top while Robyn watched me. I could see that she smelled imminent victory. I held the toothpaste tube in both hands and squeezed as hard as I could.

I got the tiniest little smear of Crest on my brush, which I quickly thrust into my mouth.

I raised the toothpaste tube, triumphant, and gleefully crowed: “I’m going to win this war!”

Robyn stared at me for a moment, then opened a drawer in the vanity and pulled out a full tube of some other kind of toothpaste.

“This is my toothpaste,” she said.

Just now, when I had her proofread the above, Robyn informed me that she’s never been part of “our” little competitions.