I have so much to do. So much, that I had to write it down and make a list. Sometimes, when I make these lists, i put down things that are almost already done, so I can finish them and cross them off quickly, and feel somewhat accomplished. Then I can reward myself with ice cream or Starbucks or reading a book or a Giants game on tv. Then suddenly four hours have gone by and I don’t remember that I even made a list, much less where it is.

mmmm yumtastic spelling.

And so here I sit, eating cheezits that I vaguely remember were a reward for something but I am entirely distracted by the fact that these are not your average cheezit, but SCRABBLE cheezits. For children. I bought them for tailgating last week. A total impulse buy. But look what I can do with them!

I am betting that that is not exactly what the makers of this product were looking for kids to spell when they designed it. But I cannot help the letters that were poured into my hands. I spelled much dirtier things but thought them not so appropriate.

I love Scrabble. What a great game.

I also love gardening. I have planted many a thing into my garden this year…each year I pick a food I like, and try to plant things that will produce that food. First it was a pizza garden, then a salsa garden. The salsa garden was pretty successful, except I realized the best part is the guacamole and chips, and avocados take years to cultivate, and science has yet to gift me with a Tostitos tree. But trust me, I’ll be the first in line to buy that.

my wee garden

This year I was thinking a Caprese Garden…but I forgot basil. And to buy a cow for mozerrella. What I’m saying is that I’m focusing on tomatoes. Which is silly, because I don’t really like them very much. But they are pretty easy to grow, and I’m into competition. I have about eight blooming and it is tres exciting to go out every morning and watch their colors turn and encourage them. Because I have not only turned into someone who enjoys plants, but someone who talks to their plants. The conversation goes something like:

“oh look at you little guy!!! You are just getting so big!!’

silence from tomato

“I’m so glad those mean squirrels haven’t gotten to you! If I catch them digging holes in my cucumbers one more time I will kill them I sure will!”

(you must also imagine my voice rather high pitched, as   if talking to an infant or a dog.)

silence from tomato

“Okay well try to get lots of sun today! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”

I took my car into the shop Wednesday morning for an oil change and a tune up. It sounded like a cute idea. After all, I was due to drive 700 miles in the next week. Three days and $1100 dollars later (they cut 200 off after I gave them a “just a poor junior high teacher ” sob story. Which is true. This is about three month’s rent for me and one month’s salary.) I’m supposed to have new tires, alignment, brakes, I think an espresso machine and french fry maker installed in there.

Looking back, the brakes were squeaky and the alignment was off and its been 50000 miles with only the occasional stop at the Jiffy Lube run by former convicts of Concord…the car has been to Seattle, San Diego, Santa Barbara, Yosemite, Pinecrest, SLO, and ne’er a trouble. So I guess she was due. But going to car places always scares me. I always feel like I will be taken advantage of by these guys looking at me saying “look at this silly young girl with her coffee and her yoga pants. she doesn’t know a thing about cars. lets tell her new tires cost four thousand dollars each.” (they also have menacing French accents in my head) Which is why I always try to sidle up to the grandpa-type mechanic, and look at pictures of their grandkids and talk about being a teacher and going on mission trips and being broke, hope they take pity on me and charge me an honest rate.

In the end, I’m thinking about marrying a mechanic. That would make trusting one much easier.

I am off to do some things…must pack….I will be gone for the next two weeks. And I admit that a great anxiety is if I will miss my tomatoes ripening, or a small cucumber making its debut. Sigh. I am turning into an old lady.

au revoir mon sweet readers!

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