Archive | October, 2008

Green Thumb?

25 Oct

Among the many areas I lack in talent, gardening has now reared it ugly head as one of them.  When I was a kid, my grandfather had a big garden in the back, and one day, we taped my version of Victory Garden, that old PBS show (see, TAC, I did watch PBS more than once!)  Basically, I walked around the garden saying such fascinating things as “Look at this cucumber” and “what we have here is a red tomato!”  It was an Emmy award winning performance, I tell you.

Of course, I’ve never actually had a garden of my own, nor have I ever taken any interest in helping my mom in hers.  Really, I don’t even like vegetables that much.  I eat them because I have to, but don’t really enjoy them unless covered in cheese or oil (avocados excluded.  They have enough fat in them to keep me happy).  At the apartment, I tried to have a plant or two, but they all mysteriously died.  Probably because I put them on the balcony and J would water them with soda and coffee. 

Now that we have a house, in keeping with the Martha Stewart that lives inside me, I envision a yard full of flowers, herbs and veggies.  Unfortunately, I’m the wrong person for that job.

The day we moved in, my BFF showed up with two giant hanging plants, and I vowed to keep them alive, despite her warnings that they needed a lot of water.  They’re dying now, but it is freezing outside, so I’d say that was a success.  I managed to keep an aloe plant alive for a month, until it because infested with fruit flies and I tossed it.  And Fern (my $10 Home Depot palm tree) has seemed to thrive well.  Brown spots add character!  I spent a small fortune on Mums, most of which have died by now, but not for lack of trying!  I even bought them plant food.  I do have some scary looking dead chives in my kitchen, and a cool mini pepper plant from my mom that I’m determined to save. 

Now, as a general rule, I don’t know anything about flowers.  I carried roses in my wedding bouquet for the simple fact that I knew what they were.  But, I know Tulips!  I love tulips, and when someone told me you could plant them in the fall, I looked at my too green yard with the dead mums, and bought some bulbs!  Okay, some bulbs = 60.  And I got daffodils and hyacinths too, because the picture on the package showed you a little map of how to plant all three and when they bloom, and a vision of beautiful colors danced in my head.

So, one Saturday, amidst the cooking and cleaning a good Martha Stewart wannabe does on her days off, I planted bulbs.  I put on my gardening gloves to protect myself from J’s cactus (aka Cactus Jack), only to find the gloves had cactus pricklies inside of them.  I spent the next two days picking pieces of Jack out of my hands.  I put bulbs everywhere I could find dirt.  I dug the holes 6″ down like you’re supposed to.  I even sprinkled them with some organic bone mix and watered them thoroughly.  I was so proud of myself, and so looking forward to my beautiful tulips in the spring.

I think I planted my bulbs upside down.  I’m pretty sure I stuck the pointy end of the bulb down, even though the directions said not to.  I’m too lazy to dig one up to check.  Because, really, if they are upside down, am I really going to dig them all back up to flip them over?  Doubtful.  I think I’ll just wait and see if I get tulips in the spring, and, if I don’t, I’ll blame it on this bugger here:

 

 
 
 
 

 

The Sweet Touch of Love

14 Oct

If you haven’t seen this commercial yet, you should now.  Its hilarious.  It makes watching the Sox suck ass a bit more tolerable:

Boo!

8 Oct

J is a lover of all things scary and gross.  He always watches those stupid, horrible movies, like House of a Thousand Corpses, and Shaun of the Dead, and tries to make me watch them.  Don’t get me wrong, I like some scary stuff.  I went on a ghost tour of New Orleans.  I love It (but mostly the beginning, aka VHS tape #1, before that scary clown shows up too often), and I love reading most Steven King books.  I will admit that I almost started crying during 1408, I was that scared.  Okay, that much of a baby. 

One year when we first started dating, J got us tickets to Spooky World.  Spooky World used to be held behind Gillette Stadium (where the three time world champion who can’t beat the Dolphins without Tom Brady New England Patriots play), and was basically a theme park of scariness.  There were haunted houses, rated 2-5 in terms of horror, games, and food you couldn’t even eat without scary monsters bugging you.  We started with a level 2 haunted house, which was just some sort of history of terror, no biggie.

Then J dragged me into a level 4 haunted house.  It was dark, and people jumped out at you, then followed you around (invading my ever important personal space).  They wouldn’t touch you, just get so close that you couln’t breathe or get away if you wanted to.  It took what felt like forever to go through.  When we finally got outside, J turned to me and said “That was awesome!” and I burst into tears and refused to go into any more haunted houses.  (Something he’ll never let me live down).

So, maybe I don’t like scary so much.  J is watching some show on haunted places, and thinks it would be “fun” to go to a haunted hotel.  Uh, seriously?  I found out the Hotel Del Coronado was haunted while we were there and almost couldn’t sleep because I convinced that Kate Morgan (not Street Girl Kate Morgan, of course)  would come back to haunt me. 

J has his sights set on the Stanley Hotel , where the Shining was allegedly set.  People see and hear some crazy stuff there.  Maybe not as crazy as scary twins in the hall, or a blonde and a bear in a bedroom, but still, scary stuff.  I like the Shining, I don’t want to stay there, as much as I need a good vacation. All work and no play makes Julie a dull girl, after all.