I got it in my head this evening that I was going to plant an herb garden in the front raise “flower” bed. I have never had a plant that I didn’t kill albeit unintentionally. But those were all in the house in small pots. Truthfully, I didn’t pay them enough attention. Small potted African Violets, spider plants and numerous small squares of cat grass. It doesn’ help that in the last 8 years I also had the cats munching on anything green brought in the house.
I am convinced that this time will be different though. This time, my herb garden is outside and conveniently located where I must walk by at least twice a day. I will research all the intricate ways that each plant needs to be cared for to help it grow. It will flourish and in a few to several weeks it will be bountiful and glorious and I can’t wait. I have already made plans on what glorious dishes I will be able to make and when they call for fresh tarragon sprigs or chopped fresh parsley I will simply be able to walk out my front door with small scissors and a bowl and snip what I need, fresh and delicious. And this bountiful herb garden will lead me to a love affair with successfully growing and consuming the fruits of my labors that come mid-summer, I will want to construct a small raised bed in my back yard to fill with fabulous root vegetables, squashes and peppers. I’ll love my little gardens so much that I will bite the bullet and create a small compost bin where I will toss my egg shells and food scraps to simmer and bake into a little tasty snack for my growing veggies. This is my hope.
Reality is that 75% of the damn seeds probably will never germinate, 10% of the ones that do won’t even make it to seedlings and the rest I am sure I’ll unintentionally kill. I’ll be disappointed and irritated and throw away the few little gardening tools that I bought with the sad seeds that are currently on death row awaiting planting this week.
Godspeed little seeds. Forgive me for the wrongs that I am surely about to commit against you that will lead to your untimely death.
I constantly find reasons to not sit down and write about anything. I am sure you can see that from the lack of posts on this site and by lack I mean none. Usually I just find other things better to do. Like play Candy Crush on multiple devices or make of list of things I need to do… “next weekend”. I try and make the excuse that I don’t have anything worth writing about. I mean, I work 50-60 hours a week and NO ONE wants ranting diatribes about my soul sucking daily grind. No, that’s what Facebook is for. Oh and my steamy personal life? Yeah. “Um, me and the sailor rented Here Comes the Boom again from Red Box and ordered a Hawaiian pizza. Then we fell asleep with the cat wedge between us.” HOT. Like a page right outta 50 Shades of Boring. I can just hear you now, “Oh please, tell me more!”
But, wait! What is strange, that has actually happened. And more often as days go by. I have people I barely know telling me they remember old posts from my previously hacked and jacked up pages that died a silent and unceremonious death when I wasn’t looking. One person even asked me to “tell the story again about your first time getting a Brazilian wax professionally and how the girl was like ‘ok feet up now’ and you were all like OMG… yeah tell that one again cause it’s better when you tell it…” That, my dear reader, was a one time deal and was from like 2 years ago. I love you but, I don’t need to dig up that old humiliating 20 minutes of my past. Be tee dubs, thank you for never letting that mortifying memory of my first naked snatch wax die random reader. Then there are the friends and acquaintances that have frequently been reminding me of ridiculous shit that I have posted on Facebook. There was an incident a couple months back with a hipster and myself and about 15 other coffee purchasers when I dropped my croissant on the ground at a busy Starbucks. Apparently said hipster thought I was a repulsive person when I picked it up and continued to eat it. So I posted about that moment, the moment I looked at her and shoved a huge bite in my gapping hole of a mouth and MMMMmmm MMMMMmmm MMMMMmmm at her while making aggressive eye contact. Yeah, that struck a cord with some people. I remember that shining moment. It made me so happy. That memory still makes me get a twinkle of glee in my eye. I am glad it touched the black and sinister hearts of my friends as well.
So, welcome back to my mundane. I am sure there will be months that will pass where I post nothing because as I mentioned before I am lazy and I swear that Candy Crush is worse than actual crack. But, I am planning to try all half arsed like to attempt to get back to the old blasting blogs. (Like how I conveniently didn’t actually commit to anything there?) Maybe something interesting will happen to me… HA, just kidding. More likely I will just witness something ridiculous in this quirky city I live in that will be worth while reporting on. Like the man today walking down the street in a shirt and tie… and underpants. I would have snapped a pic but I was driving in rush hour and I have enough issues with that that I don’t need to add a cellphone juggle into that mix. But, I am pretty sure Miley Cyrus’s current decline into whoredom and skanky shenanigans will contact embarrass me into writing some terribly witty slam about her poor fathers achy breaky heart sooner than anything else. Until then.