You all know I'm an incessant picker. This not only applies to bugs on my zucchini, but to anything that my fingers identify as an anomaly. If it doesn’t seem like it belongs, it probably doesn’t, and my fingers will find it and work it (whatever “it” is) until it has been eradicated.
Or I have a big hole in my face, whatever comes first.
Thanks to hormones, there is a lovely, 1/8 inch hair in my chin. This is different from the other 1/8 inch hair I had on my chin last week. I have no tweezers, and my fingers CANNOT stay away from said hair.
Knowing myself, I will pick and pick and pick in many erstwhile attempts at pulling said hair from my chin. All will be unsuccessful, and will lead to a big old red mark on my chin which my husband will notice and tease me about.
It really is going to be a long day.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Late August thoughts
It's the end of August, again. The sun is down now by 7:30. And while the days are still hot, there is a sign in the air that I can feel in my bones. Fall is on its way.
My thoughts always turn at this time of to the first weeks of Thomas' life. I see the shadows in my living room at night in late August, and I am taken back to those first few supposed-to-be-idyllic nights of being a new mom. I was still giant. I could finally see my feet, but there were still swollen and ugly. The life that I had known had ended the Wednesday before, and I didn't see it coming back any time soon.
First, there was this person who depended on me for everything. He woke me up at night. He used my body for things I didn't realize would hurt so much, mainly feeding. He seemed to only want to sleep if I was holding him (the reason he still sleeps in my bed. I know, I know.) I was so scared he would die if I wasn't there to hear every breath. I was so glad to finally be a mom, and yet bewildered at what I had done.
I wondered where I had gone. Me. One day, I left Thomas inside with Shane and planted some re-blooming iris I had bought Before. I dug around in my flower bed for about an hour, and then sat on the porch. How vividly I remember wanting to feel like myself. I breathed for a while and tried to feel, inside, for the person that I knew I was, for the life that had turned a strange and unexpected corner.
I remember a process I went through at night to get ready for the marathon I would perform every 3 hours. I would set out 2 baby nightgowns (you know the ones, with the ties at the bottom, the three snaps at the top. It is one piece of baby attire that if I could, I would eat. They are so sweet.), and two flannel blankets. Every three hours, Thomas would wake up. I would sit down in the rocker to feed him, then change his diaper between sides. Inevitably, he would spit up on the nightgown he wore, so I would change him to a clean one. I'd rewrap him in a blanket, and sit back down to resume feeding. He would fall asleep for the time I took to finish his burping, and would promptly awaken within 30 seconds of being put in his crib. I can remember holding so still, laying in my blissfully soft and warm and dark bed, hoping he would go back to sleep, knowing he wouldn't until I brought him into said blissfully soft bed. We would repeat the process a few times each night.
I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Those times were both incredibly precious and incredibly not. I am eternally grateful that no matter what happens in life, I will never have to be a first-time mom again. Once you have done it, you know what to expect (to some degree). Granted, it is time you never get back with your child, but it is so. dang. hard.
This nostalgic time of year is tinged with so many emotions. I remember wondering where summer had gone. I went in the hospital for a few days, and when I came out, summer had gone somewhere. It all had to do with the dying light in the evening, and the marathon ahead. And now, when the light turns the same way, I can't stop myself from remembering this time so vividly. I would never, ever trade them, nor will I forget.
My thoughts always turn at this time of to the first weeks of Thomas' life. I see the shadows in my living room at night in late August, and I am taken back to those first few supposed-to-be-idyllic nights of being a new mom. I was still giant. I could finally see my feet, but there were still swollen and ugly. The life that I had known had ended the Wednesday before, and I didn't see it coming back any time soon.
First, there was this person who depended on me for everything. He woke me up at night. He used my body for things I didn't realize would hurt so much, mainly feeding. He seemed to only want to sleep if I was holding him (the reason he still sleeps in my bed. I know, I know.) I was so scared he would die if I wasn't there to hear every breath. I was so glad to finally be a mom, and yet bewildered at what I had done.
I wondered where I had gone. Me. One day, I left Thomas inside with Shane and planted some re-blooming iris I had bought Before. I dug around in my flower bed for about an hour, and then sat on the porch. How vividly I remember wanting to feel like myself. I breathed for a while and tried to feel, inside, for the person that I knew I was, for the life that had turned a strange and unexpected corner.
I remember a process I went through at night to get ready for the marathon I would perform every 3 hours. I would set out 2 baby nightgowns (you know the ones, with the ties at the bottom, the three snaps at the top. It is one piece of baby attire that if I could, I would eat. They are so sweet.), and two flannel blankets. Every three hours, Thomas would wake up. I would sit down in the rocker to feed him, then change his diaper between sides. Inevitably, he would spit up on the nightgown he wore, so I would change him to a clean one. I'd rewrap him in a blanket, and sit back down to resume feeding. He would fall asleep for the time I took to finish his burping, and would promptly awaken within 30 seconds of being put in his crib. I can remember holding so still, laying in my blissfully soft and warm and dark bed, hoping he would go back to sleep, knowing he wouldn't until I brought him into said blissfully soft bed. We would repeat the process a few times each night.
I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Those times were both incredibly precious and incredibly not. I am eternally grateful that no matter what happens in life, I will never have to be a first-time mom again. Once you have done it, you know what to expect (to some degree). Granted, it is time you never get back with your child, but it is so. dang. hard.
This nostalgic time of year is tinged with so many emotions. I remember wondering where summer had gone. I went in the hospital for a few days, and when I came out, summer had gone somewhere. It all had to do with the dying light in the evening, and the marathon ahead. And now, when the light turns the same way, I can't stop myself from remembering this time so vividly. I would never, ever trade them, nor will I forget.
Friday, August 28, 2009
On RSVPing and wasting time
We have some good friends who are getting married. It's one of Shane's best friends from high school (Matt), and his lovely bride (Arrika). We have known about the wedding since, oh, March or so. The "save the date" has been on my fridge since the day it arrived in the mail.
I only just RSVPed today.
Lame, or typical of Utah?
It isn't that I don't want to go to the wedding. I do. It's in Zion National Park, under a tree. (I'm hoping its a well marked tree, otherwise how will we know where to find the bridal party?) I've never been to Zion. Plus, I wouldn't want to miss Matt's wedding for anything. But, the whole idea of sending an official missive (even if just an email) has daunted me for months. Why is this?
If I lived somewhere else other than Utah, I would have grown up being more comfortable with the notion of RSVP, I think. It just doesn't go with our casual nature. Most people packing guests into the cultural hall for their post-wedding extravaganza do not expect a formal note of each guests intentions (Yes, please, count me in on the weak punch and nut cups! I'll even bring a gift of an Ensign subscription!) (Of which I received one, and I never sent in the check. I wonder if the gift-giver was offended?) (We also recieved a hymn book. Shane was way excited). (Sorry for all the parentheticals.) Anyway, most weddings around here aren't that formal, is my point.
But Matt and Arrika's is. So. Do any of you have thoughts on the RSVP? Do you do the RSVP? Do you expect them? Has my Utah upbringing ruined me for this convention of normal, outside-Utah society? Also, what random church-related gift did you receive that surprised you? Do tell.
*******************************************************************
And, in another not-so-related-topic, Facebook has again found a way to help me waste my time. It's called Typing Maniac, and I've been playing it nonstop for 2 weeks. It is seriously an evil, evil game. Sure, my typing skills are improving, but I'm getting a little obsessed. Like, spending every lunch and break I can possibly get to play it. Bad, bad news. I don't know why they have to spring these games on us.
I only just RSVPed today.
Lame, or typical of Utah?
It isn't that I don't want to go to the wedding. I do. It's in Zion National Park, under a tree. (I'm hoping its a well marked tree, otherwise how will we know where to find the bridal party?) I've never been to Zion. Plus, I wouldn't want to miss Matt's wedding for anything. But, the whole idea of sending an official missive (even if just an email) has daunted me for months. Why is this?
If I lived somewhere else other than Utah, I would have grown up being more comfortable with the notion of RSVP, I think. It just doesn't go with our casual nature. Most people packing guests into the cultural hall for their post-wedding extravaganza do not expect a formal note of each guests intentions (Yes, please, count me in on the weak punch and nut cups! I'll even bring a gift of an Ensign subscription!) (Of which I received one, and I never sent in the check. I wonder if the gift-giver was offended?) (We also recieved a hymn book. Shane was way excited). (Sorry for all the parentheticals.) Anyway, most weddings around here aren't that formal, is my point.
But Matt and Arrika's is. So. Do any of you have thoughts on the RSVP? Do you do the RSVP? Do you expect them? Has my Utah upbringing ruined me for this convention of normal, outside-Utah society? Also, what random church-related gift did you receive that surprised you? Do tell.
*******************************************************************
And, in another not-so-related-topic, Facebook has again found a way to help me waste my time. It's called Typing Maniac, and I've been playing it nonstop for 2 weeks. It is seriously an evil, evil game. Sure, my typing skills are improving, but I'm getting a little obsessed. Like, spending every lunch and break I can possibly get to play it. Bad, bad news. I don't know why they have to spring these games on us.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Time Traveler's Wife Review: with spoilers
After all those posts, all those trailer views, it's taken me over a week to review the movie I couldn't stop talking about. Even got a virus on my computer for.
How lame am I?
So. I thought I would give my opinion on the movie of the summer (for me), the Time Traveler's Wife.
Love, love, love, love, LOVED it.
I went with my friend Melanie, and we were both crying in the first 5 minutes. There is an awesome scene that never happened in the book with Henry and his mom that made me want to bawl my little eyes out. Both Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams became Henry and Clare for me. It was seamless. Perfect.
The movie is less than 2 hours, and they had a lot to pack into every minute. But it never felt hurried (to me). I think that knowing the background of the movie from the book (which I doubt many of the critics did, which is why they just did.not.get.it.) was helpful, but not essential. There were a few scenes that I wondered, "Do people know why this scene is happening?" Like, for instance, a scene which shows Clare cooking a turkey and Henry congratulating her. Would people have understood that she knew he was going to die, so she had to learn to cook? Did they want to sob at the poignancy of it like I did? Probably not.
So, these are my opinions, in rapid succession.
The essentials: For me, the essentials were there. Henry gets frostbite. He gets shot. They win a few million dollars. She is an artist, he is a librarian. They meet in the meadow. His dad is an ass. They have trouble getting pregnant. All good, good, and good.
The bad: But, there isn't a Mrs. Kim. I missed her character so much. The car accident scene with his mom didn't make sense to me at all. They didn't explain why he had to run so much. Gomez didn't have a lot of scenes, and Ben didn't exist at all. I wished they had left in the scene with Clare being 80 and waiting for Henry. Still waiting. It bugged that she accepted so easily in the ending scene that she wouldn't see him again. I wish they had had the scene with them at the concert. I wished there were more scenes with Alba and Henry after he died, in Alba's real time. The one post-death scene was insufficient.
The awesome: the way you felt trapped by time, how things that have already happened (even in someone else's past) still will happen. The way Henry and Clare's love translates to the screen to feel so real, and so tragic. The way they changed the scene when Clare gets pregnant. Alba meeting her dad for the first time. The scene with Alba in front of the store before they had met her.
I could probably go on and on (surprise!) but I won't. I loved this movie, and will definitely see it again, and buy it when it comes out. I might even just watch it on those days when I need a good cry. So, what did you think? Favorite scenes, or things that just bugged?
How lame am I?
So. I thought I would give my opinion on the movie of the summer (for me), the Time Traveler's Wife.
Love, love, love, love, LOVED it.
I went with my friend Melanie, and we were both crying in the first 5 minutes. There is an awesome scene that never happened in the book with Henry and his mom that made me want to bawl my little eyes out. Both Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams became Henry and Clare for me. It was seamless. Perfect.
The movie is less than 2 hours, and they had a lot to pack into every minute. But it never felt hurried (to me). I think that knowing the background of the movie from the book (which I doubt many of the critics did, which is why they just did.not.get.it.) was helpful, but not essential. There were a few scenes that I wondered, "Do people know why this scene is happening?" Like, for instance, a scene which shows Clare cooking a turkey and Henry congratulating her. Would people have understood that she knew he was going to die, so she had to learn to cook? Did they want to sob at the poignancy of it like I did? Probably not.
So, these are my opinions, in rapid succession.
The essentials: For me, the essentials were there. Henry gets frostbite. He gets shot. They win a few million dollars. She is an artist, he is a librarian. They meet in the meadow. His dad is an ass. They have trouble getting pregnant. All good, good, and good.
The bad: But, there isn't a Mrs. Kim. I missed her character so much. The car accident scene with his mom didn't make sense to me at all. They didn't explain why he had to run so much. Gomez didn't have a lot of scenes, and Ben didn't exist at all. I wished they had left in the scene with Clare being 80 and waiting for Henry. Still waiting. It bugged that she accepted so easily in the ending scene that she wouldn't see him again. I wish they had had the scene with them at the concert. I wished there were more scenes with Alba and Henry after he died, in Alba's real time. The one post-death scene was insufficient.
The awesome: the way you felt trapped by time, how things that have already happened (even in someone else's past) still will happen. The way Henry and Clare's love translates to the screen to feel so real, and so tragic. The way they changed the scene when Clare gets pregnant. Alba meeting her dad for the first time. The scene with Alba in front of the store before they had met her.
I could probably go on and on (surprise!) but I won't. I loved this movie, and will definitely see it again, and buy it when it comes out. I might even just watch it on those days when I need a good cry. So, what did you think? Favorite scenes, or things that just bugged?
Friday, August 21, 2009
The last supper...
8 years ago tonight, Shane and I ate our last supper.
It was the night before I was scheduled to go in and be induced to have Thomas. I was 3 days over my due date, but not super anxious to be done being pregnant. I mean, I was, but I knew that I would miss it some. There is nothing in the world like feeling your baby kick you - even if it results in your wetting your pants. Hey, I'm just saying.
But the night before, Shane and I went to Red Robin. I think I ate some chicken strips, Shane had a hamburger. I remember how warm it was as I waddled through the parking lot. We talked all through dinner about what would happen the next day. I found I was a little reluctant for it all to be over. Worried that so much would change once our sweet baby came into the world. Maybe we would never hang out again, I thought.
So, tonight, on the anniversary of that long ago night, our last dinner date before officially being parents, I think of all the ways that things have changed, but also stayed the same. I'm still me, but now I have these two incredible kids to hang out with. Shane and I still get to have time together, and we still like each other. It isn't the same, but the life that life has brought has given is so full.
And now, for some bad pre-digital photography, this is the day I met my son.
See the light coming in the window? Yeah, it was 8:15 am. We were supposed to be there at 7:30. We were late to go get our kid. Who does that? And, my nose looks crooked in this picture. My dad used to say that your nose always looks crooked right before you go into labor. Maybe I should have waited a few days to see if Thomas would have shown up on his own.
If you could see the window now, it would be pitch black, since Thomas didn't decide to be born until 11:40 pm. That's 15 1/2 hours, in case you weren't counting like I was. But look how cute he was, even with the bruise under his cheek from being wedged agains my pelvis. Lucky baby.
Our first family picture. I can't believe how young we were, or how fat I look.
I'm so glad Thomas came to us. The time I had with him, when he was my only baby, my only responsibility, is very precious. No matter how many children come afterward, I don't think it ever feels the same as it did with your first. There aren't other children to tether to your shopping cart as you wander the grocery store aisles. No one else has to share your affection, or your heart. It is something you never get back, for better or worse.
Happy Birthday, Thomas. Thanks for picking me to be your mom.
It was the night before I was scheduled to go in and be induced to have Thomas. I was 3 days over my due date, but not super anxious to be done being pregnant. I mean, I was, but I knew that I would miss it some. There is nothing in the world like feeling your baby kick you - even if it results in your wetting your pants. Hey, I'm just saying.
But the night before, Shane and I went to Red Robin. I think I ate some chicken strips, Shane had a hamburger. I remember how warm it was as I waddled through the parking lot. We talked all through dinner about what would happen the next day. I found I was a little reluctant for it all to be over. Worried that so much would change once our sweet baby came into the world. Maybe we would never hang out again, I thought.
So, tonight, on the anniversary of that long ago night, our last dinner date before officially being parents, I think of all the ways that things have changed, but also stayed the same. I'm still me, but now I have these two incredible kids to hang out with. Shane and I still get to have time together, and we still like each other. It isn't the same, but the life that life has brought has given is so full.
And now, for some bad pre-digital photography, this is the day I met my son.
See the light coming in the window? Yeah, it was 8:15 am. We were supposed to be there at 7:30. We were late to go get our kid. Who does that? And, my nose looks crooked in this picture. My dad used to say that your nose always looks crooked right before you go into labor. Maybe I should have waited a few days to see if Thomas would have shown up on his own.
If you could see the window now, it would be pitch black, since Thomas didn't decide to be born until 11:40 pm. That's 15 1/2 hours, in case you weren't counting like I was. But look how cute he was, even with the bruise under his cheek from being wedged agains my pelvis. Lucky baby.
Our first family picture. I can't believe how young we were, or how fat I look.
I'm so glad Thomas came to us. The time I had with him, when he was my only baby, my only responsibility, is very precious. No matter how many children come afterward, I don't think it ever feels the same as it did with your first. There aren't other children to tether to your shopping cart as you wander the grocery store aisles. No one else has to share your affection, or your heart. It is something you never get back, for better or worse.
Happy Birthday, Thomas. Thanks for picking me to be your mom.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Third Grade!
Thomas started third grade yesterday. Summer went way too fast! It is strange to think I have a third-grader; I still remember third grade vividly.
Isn't he big? He wore a shirt that he picked out himself with sharks on it. It wasn't the shirt I would have picked, but he loves it, and so I can love it too.
Next year Ben will be joining Thomas at school when he starts Kindergarten. Where has the time gone? I love being a mom. I like my cool blond boys.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Thoughts on blogging
I've been thinking about blogging lately.
For me, the process of blogging has gone like this: at first, I just didn't get it. Amy was the first person I knew who had a blog, and it didn't make any sense to me. I was glad that I got to read hers, but I didn't know who could have one, or whether I wanted one. Being fairly uncomplicated, I figured it out, eventually, and grew to love reading the bits and pieces of my sister that her blog brought to me.
I can still remember how nervous I was when I started this blog back in 2007. I wanted it to be good. I wanted people to find it and love it to pieces and feel the need to read it everyday of their lives. I wanted it to give me a place to write all the things I'd probably never tell anyone, and to document the moments that I shouldn't forget. I also started reading and commenting on other people's blogs. I wanted to be them; I wanted the traffic they got, I wanted to be able to sneeze in the cyber world and have people coming out of the woodwork to say "bless you."
Fast forward two years. I still love when people come to my blog. I still read blogs, but I don't comment like I used to. It isn't that it's not important to me anymore, I've just gotten lazy on both fronts. I mean, the blogging front and the supportive-blogging front. I don't think about my posts the way I used to, or put as much effort into my writing. I've stopped introducing myself to the world, and started using the shorthand that I see some bloggers using. (I know I'm mixing myself in with others, but it's important, somehow, if I can get my idea across.) This shorthand assumes that people know me and my humor/wit/style/whatever, without reaching out to make myself understood. And I know when I read blogs that have gone that way, I start to lose interest. I start to wonder if they are interested in learning about themselves and expressing it through writing, or if they just want to put the minimum number of posts out there so they can keep their sidebar advertising (not that there is anything wrong with sidebar advertising.). Or if they are just so full of themselves by now that people will come out of the woodwork with tissues in hand to offer, that they don't consider how their writing will come off. Do you know what I mean?
I don't really know how come up with a solution to this blogging issue of mine. I don't know that there is a solution, since I do generally know who is reading my blog and the degree to which they know me (whether in real life, or in the blogosphere). But I know I've lost some of that drive to really write what I'm thinking on my blog. I don't stretch myself much, or come away with much satisfaction that with or without comments, I wrote something I'm proud of.
But knowing that I've lost it has me thinking. It has me wanting to try a little harder to put my heart into my posts. To work with language more. I don't think that every post will or can or should do that, because some posts are just to document experiences. But I'll try a little harder to work for my audience, not so that they will comment or hand me hankies, but so that they will know I'm not just resting on my (few) laurels.
For me, the process of blogging has gone like this: at first, I just didn't get it. Amy was the first person I knew who had a blog, and it didn't make any sense to me. I was glad that I got to read hers, but I didn't know who could have one, or whether I wanted one. Being fairly uncomplicated, I figured it out, eventually, and grew to love reading the bits and pieces of my sister that her blog brought to me.
I can still remember how nervous I was when I started this blog back in 2007. I wanted it to be good. I wanted people to find it and love it to pieces and feel the need to read it everyday of their lives. I wanted it to give me a place to write all the things I'd probably never tell anyone, and to document the moments that I shouldn't forget. I also started reading and commenting on other people's blogs. I wanted to be them; I wanted the traffic they got, I wanted to be able to sneeze in the cyber world and have people coming out of the woodwork to say "bless you."
Fast forward two years. I still love when people come to my blog. I still read blogs, but I don't comment like I used to. It isn't that it's not important to me anymore, I've just gotten lazy on both fronts. I mean, the blogging front and the supportive-blogging front. I don't think about my posts the way I used to, or put as much effort into my writing. I've stopped introducing myself to the world, and started using the shorthand that I see some bloggers using. (I know I'm mixing myself in with others, but it's important, somehow, if I can get my idea across.) This shorthand assumes that people know me and my humor/wit/style/whatever, without reaching out to make myself understood. And I know when I read blogs that have gone that way, I start to lose interest. I start to wonder if they are interested in learning about themselves and expressing it through writing, or if they just want to put the minimum number of posts out there so they can keep their sidebar advertising (not that there is anything wrong with sidebar advertising.). Or if they are just so full of themselves by now that people will come out of the woodwork with tissues in hand to offer, that they don't consider how their writing will come off. Do you know what I mean?
I don't really know how come up with a solution to this blogging issue of mine. I don't know that there is a solution, since I do generally know who is reading my blog and the degree to which they know me (whether in real life, or in the blogosphere). But I know I've lost some of that drive to really write what I'm thinking on my blog. I don't stretch myself much, or come away with much satisfaction that with or without comments, I wrote something I'm proud of.
But knowing that I've lost it has me thinking. It has me wanting to try a little harder to put my heart into my posts. To work with language more. I don't think that every post will or can or should do that, because some posts are just to document experiences. But I'll try a little harder to work for my audience, not so that they will comment or hand me hankies, but so that they will know I'm not just resting on my (few) laurels.
Monday, August 10, 2009
4 days, and counting.
It's finally almost here. You know, my current obsession: the Time Traveler's Wife movie, which comes out THIS FRIDAY. I can hardly stand the 4 day wait.
I spent far more time than I want to admit last week on http://www.traileraddict.com/, where there are 10 or so trailers and scene outtakes from the movie. It even has behind-the-scenes footage. It is really fun, if you are a geek like me. My mom, sisters and I even had a conversation about it at dinner on Saturday night. My mom asked if Amy or I had the book so that she could borrow it, and while we assured her we did and she could read one, we had to qualify it with this warning: don't blame us for all the stuff in it. What will she think if she reads it? I hope she likes it; there is such a good story, if you can get past all of the nudity and swearing.
Anyway. Are you all ready to wait out the final four days with me? Are you all as excited as I am?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
A bug picking shangri-la: Revised
I love to pick things (have I already posted about this? Sorry if I have. Continue reading if you aren't bored with this topic). Skin, scabs, anything that seems incongruous with the skin or surface around something is good picking-material for me. I think it runs in the family.
Anyway. I've had a problem with bugs on my zucchini. They are creepy, blackish-grayish wanderers who hide until I come along with my water bucket and douse the zucchini. Then they come swarming out. They seem to like to attach themselves to each others bums and walk forward and backward. Creepy, right? In fact, this is what they look like:
I've been googling my bugs, and discovered they are squash bugs (seems logical: bugs on squash = squash bugs. Why didn't I think of that?). And they plant eggs on the backsides of the leaves of the plants. So I went out and found colonies of eggs living on my leaves. (See above. Yuck!) What to do? A further google search gave me this solution:
Duck tape.
And so tonight I tried it, even though I'd just got the kids in bed and the sun was completely set. Only the gloaming light was witness to my egg-picking frenzy. It's pretty easy: tear off a length of duck tape, find a leaf with a colony and stick it to 'em. The eggs come off pretty easily and stick to the tape. I probably didn't get them all, but I'm pretty sure that the worst offending leaves are egg-free.
At first, it was incredibly creepy, but by the end I kind of wished that there had been more because I started to enjoy myself. And as long as I don't see them all come swarming, full grown, out of my garbage can in a few days, I think I can consider it a job well done.
Am I weird that I found this satisfying? Because it totally was.
Revision: No, I don't have magically quacking tape at my house. It's DUCT tape. I didn't even think about it until one of my lovely readers pointed it out. I hope you all had a good laugh at my error; I did!
Anyway. I've had a problem with bugs on my zucchini. They are creepy, blackish-grayish wanderers who hide until I come along with my water bucket and douse the zucchini. Then they come swarming out. They seem to like to attach themselves to each others bums and walk forward and backward. Creepy, right? In fact, this is what they look like:
I've been googling my bugs, and discovered they are squash bugs (seems logical: bugs on squash = squash bugs. Why didn't I think of that?). And they plant eggs on the backsides of the leaves of the plants. So I went out and found colonies of eggs living on my leaves. (See above. Yuck!) What to do? A further google search gave me this solution:
Duck tape.
And so tonight I tried it, even though I'd just got the kids in bed and the sun was completely set. Only the gloaming light was witness to my egg-picking frenzy. It's pretty easy: tear off a length of duck tape, find a leaf with a colony and stick it to 'em. The eggs come off pretty easily and stick to the tape. I probably didn't get them all, but I'm pretty sure that the worst offending leaves are egg-free.
At first, it was incredibly creepy, but by the end I kind of wished that there had been more because I started to enjoy myself. And as long as I don't see them all come swarming, full grown, out of my garbage can in a few days, I think I can consider it a job well done.
Am I weird that I found this satisfying? Because it totally was.
Revision: No, I don't have magically quacking tape at my house. It's DUCT tape. I didn't even think about it until one of my lovely readers pointed it out. I hope you all had a good laugh at my error; I did!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Running low on bloggy fodder...
Because I'm running low on blog posts, I'm going to tell you about what we ate for dinner last night. Exciting right?
Well, actually it is. Because a few months ago I had my awesomely handsome husband build me some planter boxes, which I filled with seeds. The seeds have grown zucchini and summer squash, and last night we ate some! They were tiny, but tasted just like they are supposed to. Who knew I could grow vegetables?
There is one thing that I love to make with zucchini, and since I'm already blogging about it, I'll share the best recipe I know for zucchini bake.
Zucchini Bake
1 lb hamburger, browned and drained
1/4 to 1/2 carton sour cream (I don't really measure)
1 large can tomatoes (I usually use diced, and just dump the whole can in)
1/2 package cream cheese
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce (or thereabouts; again, I never measure)
Salt, pepper, onion, oregano, garlic to taste.
A bunch of zucchini
Brown and drain hamburger. Put back in pan, and put tomatoes, sour cream, cream cheese, Worcestershire sauce, and spices. Cook 5-10 minutes, or until cream cheese is melted. Pour over sliced zucchini into a 9 x 13 pan. Cook 20-30 minutes on 350 until bubbly.
I serve it over rice. And frequently want to lick the plate when I'm done. It's so good!
What do you do with your zucchini? Please share!!
Well, actually it is. Because a few months ago I had my awesomely handsome husband build me some planter boxes, which I filled with seeds. The seeds have grown zucchini and summer squash, and last night we ate some! They were tiny, but tasted just like they are supposed to. Who knew I could grow vegetables?
There is one thing that I love to make with zucchini, and since I'm already blogging about it, I'll share the best recipe I know for zucchini bake.
Zucchini Bake
1 lb hamburger, browned and drained
1/4 to 1/2 carton sour cream (I don't really measure)
1 large can tomatoes (I usually use diced, and just dump the whole can in)
1/2 package cream cheese
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce (or thereabouts; again, I never measure)
Salt, pepper, onion, oregano, garlic to taste.
A bunch of zucchini
Brown and drain hamburger. Put back in pan, and put tomatoes, sour cream, cream cheese, Worcestershire sauce, and spices. Cook 5-10 minutes, or until cream cheese is melted. Pour over sliced zucchini into a 9 x 13 pan. Cook 20-30 minutes on 350 until bubbly.
I serve it over rice. And frequently want to lick the plate when I'm done. It's so good!
What do you do with your zucchini? Please share!!
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