It’s Alive!

Week 34 (Nov 24)

Despite our early cold weather and having to move the plant inside, I’ve harvested a good dozen tomatoes, seeds are fermenting for three days before rinsing and drying. I have enough to share with my siblings and some friends that are interested. A successful experiment.

 

 

Week 10 (Aug 20)

Absurdly Excited!

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Week 10 (Aug 19)

I have blossoms! Six so far, I already feel successfull, even without the tomatoes. I’m hoping our weather holds good enough to grow a couple.

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Week 7

The trip to AZ was good for my little tomato! A friend from work took good care of her and look at her now!

I planted 4-5 little seeds.

Do you see my little sprout?

Week 3 (July 2)

He is starting to look more like a tomato plant. No others sprouted, boo. Next February I shall attempt a planting on a bigger scale. That’s when mom always started hers in the greenhouse, to be able to take full advantage of Idaho’s short growing season.

Stepping into Real Life

I got trolled a few weeks ago, pretty hard. It was at one o’clock in the morning, and I was very proud of myself when I woke up the next morning and realized it hadn’t bothered me hardly at all. Just the nusiance of it mainly. I remembered some of the first times when they could make me cry. Now I only block their sorry asses from my beautiful yard.

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I thought about that for several days. I thought about a time about six years ago when an actor somehow really pulled me out of my head and made me want more than what I was settling for. I thought about how far down that road I’ve come. Thought about the dead ends I’ve discovered and about how far there still is to go. Mostly I thought about how much I’ve learned about myself. How chickenshit I am. How emotionally hobbled I’ve lived. How naive I continue to be. That’s a hard one to shake. How long I’ve lived without emotion. Remember how my first concert caught me so off guard? They’re still doing it to me with their new album.

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I’ve started pinpointing all the things I do in my life to bring pleasure because I spend so much time doing what I should do instead of what I love to do. I’m taking baby steps to remedy that. Thank you, Mr. Armitage. Thank you, BTS

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Are they really what has given me the gumption to step out of my head and into daily life. Are they really the glimmer of light I needed to try and stay out of my head in the day instead of retreat into waking fantasy? I certainly believe they are a piece of the puzzle.

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I’ve been back from Arkansas for three weeks now. Yes, I went. I’m struggling to write about it. Spread out all the tangled strings of fifty years of emotion. It wasn’t what I expected, it was better. And worse. I let myself down, but others involved stepped up in magnificant ways. I’ve written a preliminary blog about it but it isn’t right yet. It’s just words. Words about the side of adoption I don’t hear much about. I was thinking about those shows on TV where they reunite people and most of the times it’s tears and excitement. What if it’s not? What if it’s embarrassment and anger? What if it’s disappointment and disinterest?  What if it’s awkward?

Like so many things, this bit of my life didn’t play out like I expected, like I saw on TV, says a genuine child of the seventies.

 

Coming Soon

Arkansas

Planting Tomatoes

Oasis

 

It’s the Little Things that Get You

I went to the storage unit yesterday. I’d bought a hammock stand and wanted to find the hammock. It’s also past time for the girls to change over from winter to summer clothes. In our shuffling and looking I noticed two things, one I haven’t seen for nine years and the other I didn’t know I had.

Early this spring, my college friend contacted me wanting to get her hands on some tomato plants my parents sold at their nursery. It was a type of tomato they had propagated themselves, it was trendy in their town in Idaho. They sold thousands of tomato plants every year. I told her I didn’t know if they existed anymore. Mom didn’t sell the seeds, and I didn’t know if the Witch has any at the house.  I spent a moment being annoyed over losing yet another thing of mom and dads then let the feeling go and forgot about it. Until today, today, I looked through an old Tupperware container filled with bags of seeds. All the wildflower mixes we once sold at our garden center. A quarter pound of only Dames Rocket seed! I’m a serious flower child. I sorted out packets of sunflower seeds (I was going to grow sunflower playhouses for my kids when they were young, never happened.) California poppies, Hollyhocks, and Sweet Williams and then, right there, just lying in the bottom of the mostly empty box I found this.img_3428

I remember the day mom handed them to me like it was yesterday. I was waiting impatiently at the kitchen counter as she scraped a few seeds off the parchment paper where she was drying them. As she dumped them into the tiny bag and carefully labeled it with a permanent marker, she admonished me. “I don’t give these to just anyone!” She smiled at me.

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“I know mom.” I bounced my tired eight-month-old on my hip. I was thinking about the long drive and even longer flight in front of me with my two kids.

“Start them in a south-facing window in March, maybe February. You could probably get away with that in Pittsburgh.”

I never got around to it in Pittsburgh.

To be honest, it’s the handwriting.

It gets me every time.

Other things on the list-

I bought myself some Chanel No 5 because my birth mom preferred it. Every time I spray it on, I smell the subtle (cheap?) notes that they must have used to make the perfume Charlie. I’m pretty sure Charlie was some kind of an attempted knock off of Chanel No 5. Charlie was mom’s favorite perfume growing up before she became unable to tolerate scents. It’s like wearing both their favorites.

Facebook memories, ugh. I don’t use FB a lot, but when I do, it remembers. Her messages were like bits of conversations.

You didn’t stay long enough! I wish you lived closer! I love you!

How did you manage to forget the box of jams I set out? Dad and I will bring them to Christmas.

This reminds me of you.

You have memories with Arlene.

Strawberry Milkshakes. The only food that makes chemotherapy tolerable.

Uncontrollable swearing, Shit for spiders, shit shit shit for fast spiders, Hell for snakes (the rubber ones she hid in her own strawberry patch to scare away birds), Dammit to Hell, ED! when he pretended he couldn’t hear her.

It’s the little things.

 

Coming soon on the blog!

The trip to Arkansas

Was it Murder?

Carly grows Tomatoes

 

 

Enviable Innocence

 

the real thing
Many years ago…

 

 

My youngest is twelve.

She loves BTS as only a twelve-year-old girl is capable.

She will defend and adore them to her last breath, happily annihilating all of your protestations.

You will LOVE them. There is no reason not to.

Resistance is futile.

Resisting her or them, both impossible.

Last week I saw this tweet, and it made me laugh, I shared it with our little Family Army, the girls and I.

Okay, I was thinking of all the women (and men) trampling each other to get a chance to teach Jin a naughty thing or two. I admit it!

Youngest child’s reaction-

(Laughter) But what could I possibly teach Jin? He already knows Korean.

Mom laughed a little harder, but her heart expanded mightily!

In this world, in this day and age, with everything out there trying to strip a child’s innocence and humanity, somehow this one still retains that childlike joy and pure love.

 

Coming soon on the Blog

It’s the Little Things that Get You

Arkansas Trip

Murder?