I'm sure many of you are aware that I am a master of many crafts and talents. I mean, I have the ability to pick up an instrument and play it beautifully, without having been given any type of formal training. You should see me rock out a tambourine. It's like woah. I've had people throw money at me while I broke out in a random concert playing, what else, but Tambourine Man. Just so you know, quarters hurt, so if you have the urge to throw cash at me, please make it rain with paper money. But back to my "many crafts and talents." I have what the kids call a "green thumb." I can throw something in the ground or pot, and watch it flourish. And then I keep watching it until I decide that it can now die a miserable death and dry out to a big brown heap. I guess I just like to challenge myself to see if I can actually grow something. A few years ago I decided to grow a vegetable garden. Lenny was all like, "Really, Kristina? Really." It's not that he wasn't supportive in my farming endeavors, but rather the man knew exactly what I would do. I would till, churn, water, and pluck. I would have tomatoes grow the size of basketballs, and cucumbers that were huuuuuuuuge, and looked like, well, large cucumbers. Perverts. Where did you think I was going to take that one? I had patches of mint that grew enough leaves to make at least a dozen gallons of mojitos. But eventually after my garden had flourished, I was dunzo. I stopped watering it. The thought of eating anything from the garden made me want to *horf*. I mean, ew. That shiz is growing in the dirt. Do you know what can be found in the dirt? Spiders. Worms. Beetles. SPIDERS. HORRFFFBBBBLLAAARRGGGGGG <--- That's the sound of me vomiting from just the thought of eating any of it. Now, I've had well informed people say to me, "Umm, dummy. You do know where the vegetables that you purchase from the grocery store come from, right? " And I'm all, "Yeah, yeah. I know. But I don't have to see it." At least when I buy stuff from the grocery store I don't have to see it being plucked from the ground. I can just pretend that it just magically appeared there, and not a single spider leg touched a single berry, potato, or cucumber. So I'll stick to buying my produce at the market.
I know I'm not the only one that feels this way, either. My one fur-child, Barkley, decided he was going to have a feast on the tomatoes that left laying on the ground that were being inhibited by a family of tarantulas, and proceeded to come into the house and barf all over the living room carpet about sixteen times. I think the realization that he just ate spider tomatoes hit him, and it made him yak. I mean, he does eat poo sammies on occasion, but whatevs. Spider tomatoes are nasty.
You would think that after The Garden of '09, I would've learned my lesson and realized that I could indeed grow a crop, but nopers. A couple of months ago I wondered if I could grow something inside of the house. You know, away from critters. So I bought a packet of basil and mint seeds, and they grew. Boy did they grow. And again Leonard said, "Really, Kristina? Really. What are you going to do with the basil?" This is a valid question because 1) if it doesn't come in a box or bag, I'm not going to cook it, and 2) I don't recollect the time when I've ever had a hankering for something basil-y. But I grew it anyways, and eventually I grew bored with it (haha... get it... grew), and let it die. I just tossed the shriveled basil and mint leaves away just a few days ago.
For now my growing spurt has dissipated, but I'm sure the urge will return again. In fact I think I'm going to challenge myself and try to grow pumpkins. Inside. On the kitchen window ledge. Oh, the possibilities. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment