The Dangerous Existence of Madame Lee

I worked in Lawn & Garden today, manning a cash register, which is likely what I would be doing if I transferred back there permanently. At least I get to be in close proximity to the greenhouse and see the sun and feel the breeze, though. More perversely, it has bred in me a desire to farm. Seriously, the Burpee catalogue has turned into Produce Pr0n in something like the past 18 hours. If I had a few acres, I would totally be growing a riotous orgy of produce. (And probably some flowers, but the garden that we had when I was growing up in Maryland is, for me, the standard by which all gardens are to be judged, and while the climate here isn't dissimilar, our yard here is shadier and some of the flowers wouldn't tolerate it very well. Inevitably, these are the flowers I'd most want. You know, stuff like roses and poppies. At least we have irises up in the backyard now!)

The lolmom has been talking about growing an herb garden on the windowsill for some time, and she has a book called Farming in a Flowerpot which she bought around the time she and my father were married (apparently in hopes of stretching a fewbucks on the grocery bill). Naturally, these two things were immediately taken to their logical conclusion and now we're all excited about growing honest-to-God FOODS in a very small space. (OMG YOU GUYS DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN GET SMALL CITRUS TREES? THAT PRODUCE EDIBLE FRUIT?? AND DWARF NECTARINE TREES???) Mom was, surprisingly, tolerant of my whining and crying for a lemon tree, but put her foot down on the nectarine-tree request. I may have to get one anyway, sneak it in, and lovingly tend it without telling her, if this proves a cost-effective solution. Also, I have not resigned myself to not!getting an orange tree, even though I recognize that my image of orange trees is shaped by seeing some sort of Grand Marnier or orange juice ad or something when I was a kid: glossy green foliage and gigantic orange globes.

I really miss having an apple tree; we had one in Maryland, which was great from the free-produce standpoint and less so from the lawn-cleanliness standpoint (our compost heap constantly smelled like cider because we'd chuck apples that had gone rotten into it, and we had to pick up fallen apples that we couldn't get to before my folks mowed the lawn).

At least we've learnt from mistakes made early in my parents' marriage (and a few I was around to witness and remember) and aren't planting corn, watermelon, or mint.

In less squeeful news, we have an unwelcome house guest, of the rodent variety. Mom found that someone had chewed through the raisin lid and quickly used her powers of observation and deduction to conclude that we had a mouse, as there were droppings everywhere and the damn thing got into everything. Why are movie-and-children's-lit mice cute and real mice are just a pain in the ass? More to the point, why is this dumbass mouse unaware that a cat lives here? Usually they're pretty quick to figure that out. Is it some sort of robo-mouse from the future? Also, why is Callice defective in re: fulfilling her evolutionary destiny, viz., hunting/killing/eating mice? Seriously, she's current on her shots, so it's not like the mouse can do a whole lot to her. Unless it actually is a robo-mouse from the future. I know from my highly scientific experiments that she actually is afraid of those.

Not much to report, otherwise. I never thought I'd really get all that into gardening, though I suppose producing vegetables follows naturally on my interest in cooking. (Side addendum: samanosukesgirl thinks I should not bahleet deliciouspastry when I'm done migrating fic, but that it should enjoy a second act as a food journal or something. Y/N?)

First, a happy belated birthday to syrahsmile!

This is, like, a fabulous weekend. I've done nothing whatsoever except be unproductive. Oh, and I read. And I went to the Book Broker and bought an entire stack of YA Poo, because I've read all the Poo I already have. Apparently I hit the motherlode of Sweet Dreams and Merivale Mall books. Anyone who needs to laugh at me for being a fag and collecting teen girl books from the '80s can do so now.

The weather's been fabulous. It's down to the mid-70s during the day, and it hits the 50s and 60s at night. Plus, the Evil Humidity is gone. YAY. Though it is kind of sad to see that it's nearly dark at 7:30 at night.

Made world-famous Shrimp Thing for Mom for dinner today. There's a red version (shrimp, tomatoes, and red wine being the key ingredients) and a white version (shrimp, cream, and white wine being the key ingredients), but I'd like to do a green version with pesto. :9

Not much else to report. H wrote, so I'm in the process of writing back. I know I owe people e-mail and comments and whatnot, and hope to get to that tonight. ♥

There was a time when I used to have embarrassing celebrity crushes on dead Communists.

That time was, like, ten years ago, meaning that it is in the past, meaning that it is over, meaning that I am now officially too old to be thumbing through the books that date from my passionate obsession with Russian history (since cooled to mere interest) and thinking that Lev Trotsky was a total babe and that I should have gone to Mexico to see his grave while I still lived in San Antonio.

God damn me.

[EDIT: If anyone has any idea why I feel compelled to blurt my embarrassing personal issues onto TEH INTARWEBZ as though they were interesting to other people, please tell me.]

[EDIT to the EDIT: Apparently, I was so hung up on old Lev Davidovich there that when I was packing to leave this morning, I forgot my toiletry bags and now have to make a Hell-Mart run.]