Sunday, March 18, 2007


Well, I've officially harvested something. It was time--probably past time, actually--to thin the peas. My official consultant told me last week that I could do it when the plants were looking crowded or whenever I wanted pea shoots in my salad.

I just ate about 8 plants worth, straight. No dressing, no company in the form of other greens, no cheese. Tasty.

The non-germinated peppers have me worried. I finally have two jalapeƱos peeking out, but none of the frigitellos have even hinted at germinating. I can't help thinking that nothing will actually grow, and that I'll be forced to go to some horrible nursery to buy flats of non-exciting vegetables, which will also fail to thrive. This is called the popover mindset. A number of years ago, when I was horribly depressed, I suddenly became absolutely incapable of making popovers "pop." Instead they were lumpy, solid little chunks of dense nastiness. My messed up brain translated that first to "I'll never be able to make popovers again" and then expanded it to "Nothing I do will ever be successful."

The reason I'm concerned about tending towards the popover mindset, I think, is that the sorrel I planted ages ago is not exactly thriving, either. Nor are the peas. The sorrel's inside, and though I've transplanted to larger pots with better soil, I'm convinced my lack of experience is going to fuck everything up. The peas have been the same size for the last two weeks or so. Maybe the thinning will help them. Kill a few to save many, or something like that.



I dreamed last night that my dad's best friend from childhood's son, (who happens to be this nice cutie's real life husband, if you followed that complicated relationship) proposed to me. Mind you, he was still between 18 and 20 years old, though I was my real current age.

Anyway, I wasn't thrilled about the engagement, but I did like the ring. A lot. I can't remember the design too too well, at least not to describe it, but I'll try anyway. It was gold. There was not a solitaire diamond. It was a thickish disk, set on a normal ring. The disk was about the size of a women's watch face. You could detatch it from the ring by unscrewing it, and the disk was designed to spin in place. The threads that unscrewed were gold, too. On the face were four tiny diamonds all clustered at the edge, and then some free-floating diamonds that were inset around the edge to move freely (kind of imagine this as a ring rather than a watch, but about an inch thick). There was also some kind of white jade inset.

I mentioned I was not happy that I was engaged. I think I didn't really have a choice, and we hadn't even been dating. But I took the ring, and I put it on. And then the guy disappeared off somewhere, and I plopped down on the couch next to a guy friend of mine.

I showed him the ring. He was impressed, and immediately pressed the white area, which apparently was a hidden switch. Up from the ring rose a white touchscreen. I have no idea what it controlled. But I showed it to everyone, because in my mind it meant the boy really loved me.