Category Archives: Cravings

The Anti-Farmer

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3

Who needs internet dating, all you really need is a giant garden bordered on one side by the road.

Boobs, sundress, tattoos… and they drop like flies neatly along my fence line.

I spent 10 hours in the garden yesterday, with the sunburn to show for it; and it was insanity. The women smile and wave, generally saying something nice about my garden or muttering about my mental stability under their breath.

The men stop.

The older retired set compliment me on being a good woman, and we chat for a while about how women don’t grow their own food anymore and how sad that is. He leaves with more compliments, referring to me as Sugar, Honey, or Sweetheart as he walks away. He always tells me he’ll be back when the tomatoes are ripe… and he always is. I have at least a dozen older neighbors that wave dollar bills over the fence every September.

The married men… and these are the worst. The big bad wolves of the neighborhood. I could tell you every single husband that cheats on his wife within a mile of my house. They leer at me. they make comments about my appearance. They start running daily during garden season. They come late afternoon to catch me rinsing off. I know these things because they tell me. Eww. There’s really nothing worse than being hit on by a guy, only to sit next to his wife at PTA meetings. Some men are just snakes…

The boyfriends… and these are the best. They talk about their girlfriend’s garden and ask me for garden advice or just tell me they think the garden is beautiful. They usually make the effort to stand my fence up a little straighter too. They’re the good guys, the helpers. Aw. There’s about one a week, so don’t get too excited.

The single men. The most challenging. Don’t get me wrong- I’ll be damn happy if my very own Prince Charming walks up to the fence to hand me a shiny 3 carat princess diamond. Yeah, sign me up- but it just isn’t that easy. These men range from absolutely repulsive to hot 23 year old half naked college student home for the summer. It’s either light hearted flirtation with a side of compliments- or outright whistling, followed by a request for my number.

With a nice exception yesterday.

I was roasting in the mid-morning sunshine. Spreading newspaper and straw mulch in between the rows to keep the weeds at bay. I’m determined to pull off this garden and work full time, and enjoy the summer with my daughter. I’m trying to cover as many bases as I can to make this as easy as possible. I heard someone at the fence and looked up.

Bald.

I laugh at myself because it’s the first thing I notice and acknowledge it silently in my head. I start walking over, smiling and melting at the same time.

Cute.

He’s cute, cute. I think I’ve seen him somewhere before. I’m not sure. Damn cute though- granted his shiny head is only helping him with me. What a weakness… good Lord.

C- Hey, this is quite a garden you have here. Is it a city project?

J- Nope, just mine.

C- Well it’s beautiful and I love the round paths, it’s very feminine.

J- I suppose that happens when there’s not a man demanding straight rows? I like it curvy.

C- It looks that way. Here’s my card, I just moved to town and I’d love to help sometime if you want. I’d like to know what makes an anti-farmer start farming.

J- An anti-farmer?

C- Clearly you’re a girlie girl, but with tattoos and 8 times an average vegetable garden?

J- Pretty much.

C- Call me if you want, I want to know more.

He smiled and jogged off and I laughed…

Perhaps I should make a poster and announce it to the masses. I’m not dating… which is precisely when they all come flying at you. I’m too happy not dating, though I’m definitely wound tightly. My life is a douche bag free zone. It’s complication free, stress free and happy. My biggest concern is a slug eating my cucumber plants. I have a new job I’m really excited about.

I have time with my daughter and my garden is going in quicker than ever before this year. I’m moving my own mountains, instead of wasting time getting my feelings hurt. I crave bad habits like everybody- but I’m finally at a point that the cost is too high for me to consider. I know that I can’t have what I really want in my life if I’m wasting time doing what I know doesn’t work.

Tempting… oh so tempting… but no.

I have tomatoes to plant. A fence to rebuild (ugh…) a yard sale to put together, a new job, etc… I don’t have time for a potential douche bag- so as sweet as they all are- and as easy as it is in the garden.

I’m throwing the number away. Sigh.

I know myself too well…. and he’s gonna look better and better while I’m doing that fence.

Fear and Loathing

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14

I did the unthinkable yesterday and am suffering the consequences with every step.

Flip flops + my bike = just as bad an idea as I’ve always told my kids. I turned too sharply, wrecked the bike and tore the end of my toe off. Lovely… and all just a few hours before work. Nobody could cover so I slipped on my Crocs and went.

The five minute drive to work was a tear stained adventure and I had to regain my composure before going in. I don’t take pain meds because they make my stomach upset, but as the hours ticked by, my tolerance for the screaming pain in my foot was having the same effect. I started shaking after 2 hours of being on it, and within another half hour of the shaking, I started to get sick. Water was coming back up and I was ready to bawl my eyes out. Each trip to the bathroom to pray for mercy and lose the last few sips I’d tried to choke down, was rendering me useless.

It was slow, but after a bad weekend at work I don’t want to ask for anything. I pulled it together, finished everything I needed to do, and got the hell out of dodge. I don’t know what I would have done without my dear Mr. Mahalo, who did his best to help me by taking the tables sitting the furthest away. I nearly dissolved at one point and he came over and smiled at me.

M- Do you need a hug?

I cried and shook my head yes and he hugged me and told me it’d be ok. I wish I could believe him. I do not get along with one of my coworkers and I need to find a new job. It’s gotten to the point of no return and I can’t take it anymore. My toe is just a great big manifestation of how miserable I’ve been lately. God had to go and dent me a little to wake me up and make me face the facts. Some situations aren’t healthy- and sometimes you have to do what scares the shit out of you in order to set your life right.

I don’t like being surrounded by alcohol and plenty of motivation to drink it. I don’t like that this job makes it damn near impossible to quit smoking. I’m well aware it’s within my control to eliminate these things from my life and of the excuses I could muster up to justify it being too difficult.

Plain and simple, it just has to stop. I just have to have a little faith in myself, my abilities, and the other opportunities in my life that better reflect where I am, where I’m going, and who I want to be in the long run.

I need to take care of myself. My feet hurt so badly I can hardly walk on them. Cracked bleeding heels that manage to heal a little after a day off, only to be right back where I was a day later. Crying on the way to work after seeing my daughter for ten minutes on her first day back with me.

I’m one serious buzz kill these days, and it’s high time I pulled myself up, dusted myself off, and made some changes in my life that will make it better, not worse.

Sleep eludes me when I have a mind and a heart so full of frustration and fear. I hear my mother’s voice in my ears telling me that “Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness” … isn’t that the truth. I’m exhausted and I’m lonely- two things exacerbated by the fact that I know I have some major changes to make.

Change and I don’t get along very well… but anything beats knowing clearly that what I’m doing, isn’t working.

It’s high time to have the courage to change the things I can… so I’m working on my resume, wrapping my feet in multiple layers of Neosporin and ace bandages, enjoying a mason jar of creamy chocolate milk… and cracking open “Eat, Pray, Love” for the second time. Running is out of the question for a while, but the 9 pounds I’ve lost since I started again already gives me hope.

In clearing the cobwebs from my life, it’s necessary to kill a few spiders so that I can rest easily. My life is too full and too demanding to let go of a single minute of much needed rest- and when something is bothering me as much as this? It’s time to break out the Raid.

It’s time for a few big changes. It’s time to save my own soul. It’s time to be a hero in my own life, again.

But first?

It’s time to be happy.

NO. No. no…. um…. maybe?

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5

I’m in full on love affair mode with my iPhone. Those of you who haven’t gotten one yet, just cave in already and make your life better. Succumb to the goodness.

With the magic that is iCloud, all my iTunes are on my lovely phone. It’s downright fantastic.

I devoted this day to gardening and fucked around instead. I got some things done, but by the time I got back from running errands and paying bills, all the landscape cloth had blown to the back of the garden.

Ugh.

Farming is not easy… which is why we have Farmer’s Markets…. so that we can exploit the laziness of the people who want the joy of fresh picked veggies without the back breaking work of it all.

Don’t cry about paying $4 a pound for my divine heirloom tomatoes… they’re worth every penny and at the point I’m selling tomatoes I’ve been fighting everything since February to keep them going. Be thankful and sink your teeth into edible heaven.

At this point though? It’s overgrown and out of control and I look like a woman running uphill, chained to a bus trying to get it all to the point it can be planted. It’s going to be a push, to say the least. I really let shit go last year.

I slip into my uber-sexy garden gnome red rubber Croc boots and head out to face the music with a cocktail, my new garden gloves and my darling iPhone, earphones in- my favorite music loaded.

I get to the gate, which is a little diagonal… and realize this fence issue is going to be next on the list. Slipping the earbuds in and my phone into my bra, pulling on my gloves and setting my drink on the one straight fence.

Ok… now I want a boyfriend. I want a big stupid one too. One that has a tractor, a backhoe and muscles to hammer in my fence posts.

Build me a fence and I’ll blow you’re freaking mind….. Either that or find the damn charger to my cordless drill. Ugh.

I sat to pull weeds in my linen pants and decided I was not dressed for the job, and took them off. I have cute little boy shorts on, I can pull it off as bikini bottoms and it’s sunny. I pulled the landscape cloth back over the garden- and I’m well aware I look a little ridiculous in boy shorts and gigantic red rubber boots, but oh-fucking-well, this is my garden, not a club. I’m not looking for compliments or a date, I’m avoiding the creepy mice that keep running out from underneath the cloth, which makes me scream instinctively.

J- AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

J- Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!

J- Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok so….. I nearly fainted when baby mice went tumbling across the cloth when I pulled it out of the corner of the garden. Tiny little pink mice without their eyes even open yet. I felt horrible. I stopped and collected them, scared to death of their mother but absolutely NOT ok with being the cause of any tiny little baby’s death. 9 in all, and so cold. Aw. I’m scared to death of mice, but these are babies and I feel horrible. I can feel their tiny heart beats and they’re chilly. I took them inside and found a styrofoam cup, cut half of it off and lined it with some fuzzy soft yarn. I’m a pushover for a tiny creature- even mice. Now to locate their antichrist mother. Ewww. My maternal feelings wear thin when I think of that furry grey thing coming anywhere near me. I set the cup down by the hole dug in the soil that looks closest to where they must have been- and went back to work.

Corn stalks to pull, hoses to check… omg… I must be out of my damn mind to want to do this again. Here’s an example of what it looked like in it’s heyday, and what I’m determined to have it look like this summer.

Yeah… Epic.

But? Absolutely worth every minute spent. It’s the heart of my happiness and the key to my joy. My legacy from my beautiful mother. She gave me a happy smile and a heart that’s happiest in the garden. We call it the Yarden, because it’s nearly an acre. It’s daunting… to say the least.

The best things in life always are. You really can’t know joy until you dig potatoes. I believe this with all my heart. So perhaps the 800 pounds of potatoes I grew two years ago is a bit much… but seriously… it’s like digging for treasure, veggie style.

My daddy is a chef. He created a monster when he taught us what tasted good. We have discerning palates. We are not afraid to get our hands dirty…because our mama is an organic gardener.

Hence the 8 rows of specialty potatoes I’m planting.

I’m giggling over my type A obsession in planting my circular garden in graduated heights so that it’s as beautiful as it can be… when I hear a voice over my seriously challenged fence.

C- Hey… you have quite the undertaking.

J- Yeah, while you’re talking, pull some weeds.

I looked up to see a very hot, very bald… very cute guy… walk over my fence and toward me in the mass of weeds that is my garden.

I should remind you of a few details at this point.

I’m in black panties and red gnome boots…. and my “Jenius” sweatshirt. My hair is in a ponytail and I’m praying to God that the clouds above me will open up and strike me dead on the spot with a bit of mercy lightning.

No luck…. the sun actually starts shining. My sweet Sober One Kenobe is making dinner and I’m already late leaving. I’m panicking over the baby mice… but more than anything… I’m dying over my panty-clad reality.

C- Hi. Where would you like me to pull some weeds?

He sticks his hand out and smiles.

C- I’m McHotter-Than-Hell-Pants.

and I’m Mc-want-to-climb-under-a-rock-because-I-have-no-pants.

He pulled a beer out of his pocket and handed it to me. I grinned at him.

C- You don’t remember me, do you?

Uh oh.

J- Yeah, I do.

Not really… but…

C- Art class? Freshman year? I taught you how to draw trees.

Art was not my strong point. I had Mr. Anderson, some crazy ass old man with a toupee who adopted kids purely for the check from the state. Not a good guy. Not a good teacher…

and I can’t draw a tree to save my life… but I can sweet talk a beautiful man with my hands tied behind my back.

J- OH MY WORD! How have you been? It’s so good to see you! Sorry I told you that you had to weed….How are you? How’s life? Fill me in.

Please… cause I have no damn idea who the F you are.

C- Evelyn and I had two kids, both girls, and got divorced. I’m an accountant and out celebrating the end of tax season tonight. Are you finished here? Wanna catch up over dinner?

I looked to my left… and to my right. Weeds for days. I looked at him and realized I’m completely over it.

J- I have plans, but thank you. Have a great night, and congratulations on finishing out the season.

C- Would you like to have dinner some other time?

Deep breath. One quick glance to the baby mice tucked in my favorite cashmere yarn and styrofoam cup.

J- No, but thank you. I’m taking a sabbatical from that sort of thing, but if you feel like taking your dress shoes off to weed with me, come on over. I have Thursdays off.

C- I’ll see you next Thursday night.

J- No, you wont. Perhaps the week after?

C- See you then…here?

He hands me another icy cold Red Stripe out of his sweatshirt and I let myself grin over his shiny bald head.

I thank God and myself for having the self respect I deserve, finally.

J- Two weeks… and bring your gloves… I’d hate to destroy those pretty hands.

He walks away smiling, and gets to the edge of the garden and stands my fence back up where he walked over it previously.

C- I could help you with this fence.

Now you’re talking.

J- Bring your drill too, then. <grin>

Date the need…. right? If this man can build a fence with his hot bodied bald-headed goodness, I just might have dinner with him.

Right after a background & credit check.

 

My Everyday Fairytale

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4

For as much as I bitch and whine… I have a beautiful life.

Anything can be better, but when faced with the reality of my day to day existence… I smile.

I miss my son like I’d miss air if I were drowning. I’ve learned to compartmentalize it because there’s simply nothing else I can do. I miss him, I love him, and I respect his teenagehood. I hated my mother when I was his age. I love her now. That’s all I’ve got to say about that.

It’s my day off today, and I woke up late from a divinely delicious dream. I woke up smiling, which I do 90% of the time. Either at my darling girl or at the day facing me. I love my job, I love my coworkers and my tomatoes started to sprout yesterday.

I woke up to a call from my darling Miss Harley which turned into a stomach-aching giggle-fest. Laughing over boys and how silly they are. Laughing at ourselves while we’re at it.

I decided to make myself a latte and sit in the greenhouse with the stack of pages I’ve written so far, and realizing for the first time that it’s not hard to read about my trip to Puerto Rico anymore. I was batshit crazy in love with him, and it was delightful. I don’t regret it or begrudge myself the guilty pleasure.

It was bubblegum ice cream delicious. I’m at my best when I’m in love. You can’t help but have a good day around me when I’m infatuated- it’s a contact high, to put it mildly. I bake cupcakes, I sew cool shit, I knit a blue streak… I garden. I am happiest when I’m in super girlfriend mode. It’s ridiculously codependent, but it’s true.

I’ve kicked my bad habit, sigh… I’ve waved goodbye to Flintstone and I haven’t really checked my internet dating email since one of my best friend’s ex-husbands emailed me to proposition me. I feel a little dirty making fun of someone for my own entertainment. Even if it is incredibly easy. … …. and fun. Chances are good I’m going to do it again. Purely to avoid fully embracing my role as the cat lady in the neighborhood.

I rolled over to a love note from my little red… with a Reese’s peanut butter cup. My favorite…. and how can any day be anything less than perfect when you start it with peanut butter and chocolate. Seriously.

It’s sunny and bright and I have broccoli to plant and a whole day to get a tan. I throw my bathrobe over the speaker and get to planting… in black panties and garden gloves. Welcome to the beauty of single womanhood. I can plant to my favorite music, in my panties with a mimosa and my shiny purple nitrile gloves the Easter Bunny brought me. Life is beautiful.

Randomly deciding to take thai food to school and have lunch with my daughter- a treat for myself and her… and we both are addicted to the red curry. Giggling with her and her friends over the boys being so weird <and resisting the urge to tell them nothing changes in 20 years… this day is perfect with a side of laughter. One of her friends asks me if I’m her sister, lol… we laughed all the way down the hall and I kissed her cute face on a day I ordinarily wouldn’t see her. AMEN.

Oh and just when things are going swimmingly…

A bad habit sighting… and regardless of the horrible way he treats me… I swallow hard when I’m not expecting to see him. They should make a patch to shake a bad man habit… Trans-dermal crack? I don’t know… I hate being betrayed by my body, and that’s what he inspires. I hate it. I’m craving him, I hate that I have to admit it, but it’s true. Is it hot in here or is it just me?

I bolted, drove home and changed into garden gear. Facing the music in the overgrown garden that is the penance I so deserve after abandoning it last summer…well… SUCKS. I’m covering it with landscape cloth to burn off the weeds before I plant. My asparagus is coming up :)

The worms are 15″ long at least and things are looking like a beautiful year for a beautiful garden. I’m really truly centered and happy in my giant ridiculously overwhelmingly massive garden. It’s round. It’s beautiful. It’s me. Spending my off time with my feet in the dirt makes me a million times happier than spending them in a bar or on a date.

I poured myself a cocktail, took the price tag off my new wheelbarrow that my mama gave me as an Easter basket… and went out to face the music. Oy…

But… even the worst challenge in the garden beats the worst date. It beats Thomas. It makes me feel better, carves my body into summer hot and makes me smile to my toes.

I have fingerling potatoes planted… Rose Finn Apple and Russian Banana… with more on the way. I planted my French shallots.

I broke in my new garden gloves and broke out of my winter funk. I’m happy. Really, really happy.

I’ve been through hell, and I’ve proven that I should not be the one to choose who I’ll date- so it’s up to my friends from now on. I’m not picking again. I have horrible judgment and horrible taste. I’d rather take a year long sabbatical from men entirely, if given the option.

My seeds are sprouting. My garden is on it’s way. I found 2 newts in the cardboard pile today. I’m so delighted with the simple details that surround me that I don’t feel lonely. I watched a dozen stupid movies this week and slept like a baby. I made the perfect mustache cake. I was a mom hero for the birthday party. My darling MSOK made us all look like a million dollars in big hair, which I’ve found I love.

Life is good… and even without a Prince? It’s a pretty sweet fairytale in and of itself.

Undeterred.

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9

I spent my day off cleaning the things I never have time to clean. Putting away Easter decorations, bleaching the floors and cracking out on the entire house with a dozen boxes of Magic Erasers.

It’s not like me to plug anything, but if you haven’t tried the Magic Eraser, go get one now… don’t even bother to finish reading this. They’re… magical. My cupboards are sparkling. My floors are so clean the sun shining through crystal clear windows is blinding me.

I’m on a domestic high… and baking too. I’m happy.

Regardless of the disastrous state of my love life, I love every single second of the day. I love my job, and my coworkers are like an extended family. I’ve never had friends as close as the many I have in my life right now, and I’ve been planting heirloom tomatoes for 2 days. My inner Mormon girl is beaming.

By some stroke of pure luck, I have the next 3 days off. I’ll have time to play in the garden. I’ll have time to ride bikes and eat ice cream cones with my little red. I’ll finally have a little time… and in a clean house?

Nothing makes me happier or more at peace. I like all my ducks in a row. I like having a handle on my life. I feel better and am sleeping at night for the first time in months. I’m clear headed and focused and finally disappointed in myself for selling myself so short.

So I’m planting for peace…

The list of tomatoes grew as I planted… because some just can’t be left behind.

I have the following this year:

  • Tomatillos
  • Speckled Striped Roma
  • Aunt Ruby’s German Green
  • Pruden’s Purple
  • Black Krim
  • Blondkopfchen
  • Mexico Midget
  • Brandywine
  • Amish Orange Roma

and entirely too many planted… yet again. I step foot into the greenhouse, turn on some music and pour myself a cup of sun tea… and I lose track of how many tomato plants are enough. I cant only plant 10… they have to be in even numbers because I’m type A like that. I have broccoli, basil, fennel and dill to plant today… with endless garden cleanup tomorrow. I’m excited again about it being as beautiful as it was the year before last. I lose myself when my garden is a mess. I can at least control the plants in my life, if nothing else.

I’m reinforcing my garden fence, chick-style. I can’t rebuild it, nor do I want to- but I’ll be damned if those deer are going to eat it again this year. My new neighbors are going to have a stroke when they see the ghetto-tastic structure I have in mind… but it’s going to work, and eventually it will be really beautiful. It’s just going to look a little crazy…. I’ll post pictures when I get it done.

I have an acre to weed, 30 packs of seeds and a zillion onions, shallots and potatoes to plant. I have a project… along with oiling windowsils, washing the greenhouse roof and painting the kitchen & hallway. I have something to focus on and it reminds me how much time I’ve been wasting trying to make a douche bag into delightful.

When you start with a hoarder you end with a hoarder… that’s all there is to it. If he’s married when you meet him? He’s going to be married when you part ways with him as well. Leopards do not change their spots- and if you question his character or his motives from the beginning, for God’s sake take a lesson from my suffering and run like hell.

There are nice guys out there… but none of us meet them because we’re too busy wasting time with men who disregard us and darken our spirit.

If he’s not worth dating, he’s certainly not worth sacrificing your smile over. So he’s hot… there are lots of hot guys. So he’s smart… not if he’s acting like an asshole and treating a woman disrespectfully- that’s not a smart guy. So he’s amazing in bed… well… that sucks to give up, but honestly- lots of men are and if you are really honest with yourself… he’s probably not all that hot in the sack- you’re probably just looking at him with rose-colored lenses.

Chances are good when you’ve stepped back, or made a list… or had amazing sex with someone else?

Chances are good you’ll be able to laugh at yourself for being heartsick over someone so unworthy.

Then it’s just embarrassing, or funny… or something to chastise yourself about as you take your lovely self for a walk… or a bike ride… or to the greenhouse to plant tomatoes.

Happiness is everywhere around you, and only a small percentage of it is spent romantically. If I find the happiness in my own personal life and in within my own daily details, then I don’t have room or desire to waste it with someone who doesn’t want to be just as happy as I am.

Happiness doesn’t come from lying, cheating or disrespecting someone… it comes from wanting to love your own life.

In falling back in love with my own, I’m eliminating any room for less than what I’ve got going on right now.

The man in my life can either enrich it or fail to exist entirely. I have kids, cats & dogs… family, friends & a full time job.  I have more garden than any woman should be allowed to have… but more than anything?

I have faith in my ability to have what I want, when I want it, and on my own terms.

Independence is a beautiful thing…and it should take a helluva man to talk me out of some of mine.