Green Thumb. Who knew?

In the time since we bought all that cow poop, our garden has been planted, watered, and grown completely out of control. Recognizing that we are complete amateurs at the whole gardening thing, we bought a half-dozen books on the topic of growing your own vegetables. With lots of color pictures. All of them talked about creating a garden plan, and thinking through the order and timing of what you planted. Also, we spent time reading the packages of various seeds, looking at the climate, requirements and spacing of each crop, and the pretty temperature zone maps for each vegetable. And then we ignored them all, and put seeds in every spot of bare earth we could find. Um. Yeah. Turns out, there's a reason they tell you to space the zucchini (courgette) out a little. Because each plant grows to be approximately the size of a beluga whale. Just before we headed to England in June, we began harvesting the first couple of little radishes. Soon, we added a few leaves of lettuce. And then WHAM! One day, the entire garden came into fruit. Now we're harvesting zucchini blossoms to stuff with ricotta and fry, tomatoes, broccoli, cabbage, squash, kale, you name it. We got it. I'm giving it away to the neighbors, and planning on how much I can bring in to work for my colleagues. What I'd really like to do is start canning and preserving some of it for eating in the winter, but my freezers are already full as it is - I think I need to take some canning classes and figure out how to use our cellar like they did back in the day. OK, so I wouldn't have a clue to keep any of this long enough to last me through the winter like the settlers did, but man - we are enjoying the hell out of it while it's fresh. I don't even mind the weeding - I find it strangely therapeutic to spend time down in the dirt, pulling back the vegetable leaves and tearing up the little shoots of thieving weeds to make sure the garden spends all its energy on making more lovely food for our table. And we're already planning next year's crop, learning from this one (lesson #1, when they say put a foot or more between any member of the squash family, they're not kidding...)
Read More

What's in a name

My son, Squirmy, is only a couple months short of his second birthday. And I take great comfort from his desire to hang out with his Daddy. We're traveling in England this month, and I'm splitting my time between the office here and hanging out with the family, visiting friends. Squirmy's doing great with the travel, and enjoying playing with all the lovely British children and in the beautiful gardens. But when I make it back from the office, he grins, laughs, and makes a bee line for my lap, to insist that I spend the next 20 or 30 minutes playing with whatever toy that has grabbed his attention at the moment. This morning, as I tried to quietly move around the room getting ready to head out to work, Squirmy stuck his head up out of the covers and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his fists. When he saw that I was already dressed and had my laptop over my shoulder, heading out, he scrambled out of bed, grabbed his shoes, and tried to put them on to go with me, pajamas and all. I sat and held him for a few minutes, and then had to sadly pass him back to my Bride to deal with his screaming as I left. I couldn't ask for a better Father's Day present from my youngest than his clear and innocent displays of love. Why, then, I ask you, can he get his sister's name, our St. Bernard's name, label the chickens, tell you when he wants his choo-choo, or juice, or milk, or needs to change his clothes, or say the name of the dog he was just introduced to five minutes before, but the little sh*t still calls me 'Mommy'?
Read More

Let's all move to Detroit and build a commune.

Detroit is a crumbling metroplex full of interesting homes that have been forgotten and abandoned. Which means it's full of opportunity. I see these homes, and I start thinking about how I can convince my Bride to move there and restore these fascinating buildings into amazing homes for our family. You can buy these houses for next to nothing. And the cost of living in Detroit is nothing squared. And then I remember how cold it gets there in the winter. But I recommend you thicker skinned people give it a try. Let me know how it goes. Go look at the 100 abandoned homes listing and call your real estate agent.
Read More