Stuff my son says

So, we'll see if I have enough material to make this a regular contribution to my blog, but it's definitely entertaining enough (for me, at least) to mention whenever he gives me the material.  Keep in mind that he's 9 months old and is just learning that he's able to string together various sounds that sometimes resemble the sounds of grown-up conversation (sort of).

Anyway, yesterday I picked him up off the floor to give him some I-love-you-so-much kisses all over his face, and I asked him if he wanted some lunch, to which he seamlessly replied "DEATH MAMA!!!!" in what I can only describe as a deep, horror movie shriek.  It was quite something.  And if it weren't for the adorable look on his face shortly after he got it out of his system, I might have even been a bit spooked, thinking I've got myself a little Stewie Griffin on my hands.

So... that would make Dave Peter Griffin then.  Hehehehe.

Green stuff

Woah - two posts in one day.  But as I sit here and wonder about who is going to water the lawn and garden tonight (it's been something like a week solid without rain here in Toronto), I'm reminded that I haven't documented my herbs, tomatoes or berries yet.  Here they are:

                                                                    My herbs

                                                    Black Krim heirloom tomatoes

                                                    Sweet Million cherry tomatoes

                                      Blackberry, Better Bush tomato, Strawberry

Blueberries

I realize that there's not much to look at yet right now, but it's exciting to watch for the first little signs of what might later be fruit.  I'm particularly excited for my heirloom tomatoes to start showing themselves. Apparently, they're called "Black Krim" because of how deep and dark their flesh is (and because they are originally from the Crimean Peninsula).  So thrilling.

I'm concerned for my blueberries, which had to be planted behind the shed due to a lack of space in the sun.  I originally had them planted in a different location, but uprooted them and replanted them in their current, sunnier spot.  Still, I'm not holding out too much hope for them.  Especially because I have no idea what my soil pH is, and apparently blueberries require an acidic soil to thrive.  Without getting too excited, though, I will say that I definitely am seeing teensy-weensy little blue buds beneath the little white bell flowers on my plants.  Are those my future blueberry pancakes? Only time will tell.

Look but don't touch. And definitely don't eat.

I went crazy today and bought a bunch of hideously overpriced tropical fruits at the grocery store.  I did avoid the dragon fruit, which they dared to peddle at $7.99 EACH, but something about the guavas was calling out to me, seducing me.  Their aroma instantly brought me back to my summer in Costa Rica and Colombia, lolling on the beach, sipping fresh fruit shakes from carts on the street... but now that I have them at home with me, I'm at an impasse.  I sliced one up, took a mouthful, and very nearly damaged every single one of my teeth.  Somehow, I allow this to happen to me every few years.  It's like my memories for tropical fruits last only so long before the slate is wiped clean.  Then, out of the blue one day (that would be today), bubbles pop in my head as I stand in front of the guavas and decide it's a great idea to take some home with me.  Laura, guavas aren't worth the trouble.  They're a TEASE.  Maybe immortalizing this day in your blog will serve to remind you of this in three years when the guavas flirt with you again from their fragrant little display.

A budding gardener.

Today was my inauguration as a gardener.  My Jane-of-all-trades/Mother-in-law was in town today, working on our garden (because the last time I picked up a gardening tool, it was made of plastic and came with a My Little Pony bucket).  I took that opportunity to absorb as much information about gardening as I could before she left.  I cringed as branches from my rose bush (which were dead, I later learned) were brazenly snapped off.  I watched a weeding tool lithely uproot prickly things called Thistles from my lawn, saving Jacob many a tear, I'm sure.  I learned that Rhododendrons are a type of hardy bush, not a geometric shape as previously believed.  I helped to plant basil, sage, rosemary, thyme, and parsley in my herb box, next to my explosion of chives, some of which I had to pull out to keep it under control.  I gave a fistful of chives to my brother because I simply didn't know what I could possibly do with so many chives all at once.  Did you know that chives grow a pretty purple flower which is edible and quite delicious? I read somewhere that if you soak a bunch of chive blossoms in vinegar for a couple of weeks, it infuses the vinegar with amazing taste, and you can use it for dressings, or any time a recipe calls for vinegar.  I was so inspired by today's lessons that I ran out to my local garden centre and bought three different kinds of tomato plants, and four different berry plants.  If it doesn't rain, I'll plant them tomorrow, somewhere sunny.

1000 ways to help the world

My friend Akila just launched her website - www.1000waystohelptheworld.com - and I'm kvelling with excitement right now.  She's been brewing something like this in her mind for probably her whole life, and she's finally done something to get a step closer to her dream of making the world a better place.  As of right now, I think there are only two entries, but I just know it's going to take off and become bigger than big.  Akila, my self-indulgent blog and I heartily salute you.

We had a good run, m&m's.

For reasons you really don't want me to get into,  I've recently put myself on a somewhat strict diet of reduced sugar and other crappy foods.  Considering how important sugar was to my diet prior to this (and by important, I mean mandatory in a non-negotiable sort of way, especially after dinner), it's pretty remarkable that I'm rolling along, barely even thinking about the junk that used to be such an important part of my life.  When sheer willpower won't cut it, go out and get yourself some good ol' IBS.  It may not seem worth the trade-off at first, but it's a great way to stop beating yourself up about how the caramel eggs (or all dressed chips, or Greg's roasted marshmallow ice cream, or all of the above) always seem to win.  Unfortunately, in my case, it's true what they say about eating a little bit of junk food.  It's not actually possible.  One cookie at night leads to two the next night, which then leads to two cookies and a twizzler on night #3.  Eventually, it's unfathomable that I should just not eat something deliciously useless before bed.  Enter digestive disorder.  Lash out with expletives at my shitty luck (pardon the pun), and ultimately... be thankful? I didn't see that one coming, but there it is.  Sometimes you need a kick in the ass (really, I'm sorry) to get in line.  Now the real question is, how long will I be able to stick with my new eating habits once my life gets back to normal?

A mother of a comedy

The other morning (a mere half hour after my husband and I discussed the merits of my returning to work in September), my eight-month old son wrestled me for the remote so that he could change the channel.  Before I could even react, he had grabbed the remote out of my hand and single-mindedly clicked to the movie "Mr. Mom".  It was the scene where Terri Garr is about to get into a limousine that will carry her off to a business meeting, leaving her sad children motherless until her return.  Soooo.... is it just me, or was that an excellent example of the universe smacking me across the face with a cold fish? I keep asking for direction here, for some synchronistic sign to help me decide what to do.  Could it be that my answer arrived in the form of a 1983 John Hughes comedy?