Another month, another blog. I'd like to claim I have the romantic ailment of writer's block. There's even a new TV show glorifying the over-glorified disease. In case you're procrastinating, it's on tonight and called "Californication," about a guy with a bad case stuck in a bad show with a bad title.
Writer's blog, though, that's a whole other matter. After a quarter century of being paid to write daily screeds in the MSM, I find it hard to write for nothing about mostly nothing. Although I'm doing it now. My wife, the blogorrheic, says that instead of writer's block I have that affliction that applies to so much in life, DWD, or Don't Wanna Do.
Right now I'm taking the blue-and-red pill, Budweiser, to overcome constriction and open up the blood vessels leading to the typing fingers and the, ahem, mouse. If I find myself still typing four hours later I'll consult a physician or an editor.
Wait, I think I hear one of the latter approaching now. To the point.
So what have I been doing for the last month? Tending the garden. Watering. Old-guy stuff like that. And now the cucumbers and tomatoes are pouring in, the peppers are elongating and the zucchini are already being put in the crisper drawer awaiting the recipes that never quite rid the world of zucchini.
How abundant are those few square feet of former lawn? I went to the farmers' market on Sunday, had tea, people-watched and bought nothing. When I got home I realized the disadvantage of shrinking your foodshed (actual made-up foodie word) to your backyard. I had no more of the little plastic vegetable bags you get at the farmers' market. So I went to Whole Foods and stole a few. Take that, Rahodeb.
Must go. I think I hear fetal eggplant yelling for water, and falling pears screaming to be admitted to the icebox. Or iceboxes. We just plugged in the beer fridge on the patio to make room for, alas, not Budweiser, but our produce. The electrical overload may crash the computer.
Another excuse. Must go.
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4 comments:
Ah Cranky, you have an audience! Hope the DWD flies away soon!
Maybe your garden is so productive because it was an over-fertilized lawn for so many years? Sounds like you'll soon be putting zucchinis on the neighbors' front porches in the dead of night, hoping they'll be adopted. In WNY, where I used to live, one locked one's car at night, not for fear of thieves but rather because otherwise bags of produce magically appeared on the front seat.
Beer fridge? You rock, rock hugger. Even if you don't have beer in it. Love your wife, too.
8:21 on a Saturday night. What kind of veggies do I need? I have an anti Bush Garden. I have Habaneros to sting the rush of new Truckers from Mexico. I am a teamster and I am in pain thinking about nothing
Have you put a Hot Tub in the Biggles Hole?
Cofee Booth 8 14 am
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