1. I think thumb rings are weird.
2. I have a deep love for—some might even call it an obsession—the Washington Post Food section. This love affair dates back several years; longer, even, than my love affair with The Swede. I swoon for Wednesdays, when the Food staff gets online to chat about the week’s section and other cooking conundrums. I only with that the Trib’s food section were half as good, seeing as how I can’t get the print edition of Washington Post delivered to me in Chicago. God bless the Interwebs for saving me on that issue.
3. When we moved in to our new place, one of the first things Swede and I did was buy plants for the balcony. I wanted all herbs and/or vegetables, but Swede has a love of all plants and thought we should include at least one non-edible in the mix. I’m not much of a gardener—as evidenced by the fact that I once grew a moldy basil plant in my apartment—and the plants are doing….huh…. Well, let’s just say that I’m pretty sure any gardening genes that exist in my family went to my sister. I thought that maybe by naming the plants I could bolster their production. Timothy is the tomato plant, Rupert is the basil plant, and Vanessa is the deep purple (as to be almost a velvety black) petunia plant that Swede picked out and named. I didn’t name the rosemary or sage plants I later added to the balcony garden, because frankly I had run out of good plant names. And the chives, well…I didn’t name them either, but they don’t deserve a name, as they have been the bane of my existence. Not because they aren’t growing, but because one of the jackass cats won’t leave the plant alone. He hops out to the balcony and makes a beeline for the chive pot, nibbling away, and then later barfing it up on the hardwood floor. Jerk.
So, yeah. Chives.
Anyway, the plants are all doing…huh…and if all goes well I will harvest five cherry tomatoes and enough herbs to make half a pot of soup. Well done, me. As for Swede’s beloved Vanessa, the news is not so spectacular.
When we went to Door County for a few days last week, we forgot to ask Wild Turkey Dave, cat-sitter extraordinaire, to water both the cats and the plants while we were away. Alas, we came back to a shriveled and dead-looking Vanessa, and though I’ve tried to revive her this week, I fear she may be a lost cause.
To my credit, the fact that I only lost one plant before the summer is (technically) out, is pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. And I do. And I’ll also say that Vanessa’s death, at least, was not a moldy one.