This is probably the biggest flower I've grown thus far.

And if the groundhogs keep pillaging, it might be the only one.

Petunia, meet iris.

Wretched mole why can’t
I kill you? I am so soft.
To the park with you!

So I'm getting the mail when I spot some movement in one of my many flower beds. Moles have been tearing up beds and lawn since we moved in, but I hadn't actually seen one in the entire 4+ years we've lived here. So, manly man that I am, I put down the mail, grab a shovel and–with all the might you'd need to be a primary suspect in CSI, Bones or Murder, She Wrote–whacked the shit out of the mound in my mulch bead. 

The movement stopped.

Surely, surely I'd killed the little fucker. Ah, but what to do? Leave the little bugger under their to fertilize the plants. But no, I'd be putting in some plants in a few days time (I've got nearly a hundred impatiens raised from seed), so out he'd have to come. What a gruesome planting experience that'd be. So, I tip the shovel and scrape back the mulch to find … nothing. Hmm. So I dig down a little bit and uncover his furry ass. Only, I can see he's still breathing. The several inches of soil above him must have dispersed the force of the blow. I dug him out the rest of the way and pondered over his stunned self for a few moments. It's one thing to whack the crap out of a moving mound of mulch, another to squish a furry little mammal. Sigh. The part of me raised by hunters raised by hunters and farmers just wants to step on it and be done. The parent in me just doesn't want to deal with this at all. So, I scoop the little fucker up and put him in a bucket. Only, he flops off the shovel and back onto the ground. So I grab him and plop him in. Moles are surprisingly solid little animals. Most furry little things you pick up are soft and squishy; not so the mole. It's like a fur-covered rock.

I kept him in the bucket for a few hours while I went about my business and decided what to do with him. In the end, I showed him to Reed, we observed his physical characteristics necessary to his habitat, and then settled on relocating him to the park. 

Sigh. I can hear the inverse telling of The Grinch that Stole Christmas in the back of my head: "… and what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch's balls shrank three sizes that day!"

the first phase of my oral surgery extravaganza is over. i am infinitely pleased that i feel as though i took control of my highly irrational fear with the help of only half a xanax and my iPod. i was so happy when i walked out emotionally unscarred that i yearned for one of the ribbons my students get to wear when they do something exciting like lose a tooth at school. hopefully i will be singing the same happy tune tomorrow after phase II.

i am going to document my happy little herb garden-to-be because i am so dippliy content with the notion of becoming an herb-growing dork. i have planted tomatoes, chives, green onion, mint, cilantro, and tomatoes. oh, and black-eyed susans for some color. here is day #1 - not much to see yet.

because this is not an entirely exciting picture, i will supplement my submission with this far more rocking one of quinn and wendy's son, noah:

the force is strong with this one.

Alone in the night once more, now with two charges rather than one. Five months have passed in the blinking of eyes. You came home swollen with child, bore her and are once again making the way for all of us. Much of me quails in awe of your burden; an immense respect I try to repay each day I care for our tender sweets. All the air leaves the room when you close the door goodbye, but I am comforted by a boy a mere thousand days old. He is beautiful and she is beautiful and I am ever grateful for my opportunity. In another life I wrought such malice through simple sloth. Now my feculence is usurped by fecundity. Odd. Ironic, even, that the proportional amount of time once wasted on my own devices is now given to the work of tending our little blossoms to fullness.

I love it.

And I love you. See you soon.

i'm completely swiping mention of this site from gawker. so fucking funny. and totally SFW, and a great way to make a friday go by more quickly, to boot. it reminds me of when my mom went through her camcording phase and she used to make us pose as if she was taking a still shot. awkward!

when my dad is visiting this weekend, we have plans to get my yard together. it has definite garden potential, but is so not even close right now. i'm really excited at the prospect of level grass with no bare patches, filling in some holes, and maybe just maybe coaxing some tomatoes and kitchen herbs out of my little scrap of brooklyn soil. not to mention practially doubling my total area of personal space, and, dare i even imagine the prospect of having more than two people in my apartment for entertaining? i already invested in a cute little hibachi grill and am daydreaming about actually being able to have people over for cookouts.

living in new york has cemented my adoration of the luscious beverge called iced coffee (not "ice_ coffee, btw - god how i have that particular bastardization of conventional english, nearly as much as "fresh" food). i am so happy that iced coffee can be purchased in nearly any bodega* for cheapity cheap cheap, and that not once asking for it have encountered the blank stare that my request has met so many times in other states, particularly in VA. i remember asking for it once at a VA starbucks and having to explain to the girl behind the counter that no, iced coffee was not the same as hot coffee over ice cubes. total barista failure. the best version i have had so far is at le dolce vita -fancy name for the corner store a block down from me- and i swear it's laced with something more addictive than coca, 'cause i crave it specifically. often.

i don't like starbucks' new "iced coffee beverege" and i resent mcdonald's version for the same reason - my steadfast belief that iced coffee should be black, like hot coffee. any reputable java-selling business would never deign to add cram and sugar to your drink, so why should that be the default for the cold version of the same beverege? i protest!

* i was gonna link the definition of bodega because before i moved to new york, the word was not part of my vernacular. is it in yours? was i just dumb? i think i normally have a pretty good vocabulary. basically it's just a little local store that sells groceries, a couple steps past a newsstand. but i don't think merriam-webster's definition isn't really an accurate representation of the way i use the word. i can see it is a derivation of the third listing for the entry, but i feel it's connotation should be included, as well. is that presumptuous? to be correcting the dictionary people?

First day of Spring and I already have a bouquet of yellow daffodils and white and pink tulips in the kitchen. I cut them from my own beds this afternoon. They're not usually in bloom this early, but two weeks ago we had a span of many days that had highs in the 60s, 70s, even 80 degrees. Before I knew it, flowers were popping up all over the place. They're really quite lovely in a vase, though I usually just leave flowers outdoors to their own devices.

So why cut them?

Well, it's dumping snow outside on this first day of Spring. Lose them to the snow or lose them to the scissors. Global warming, anyone?

(Oh. And the white tulips? Total sluts. Seriously. At least the pink tulips have the decency to stay somewhat closed up, but the white ones? Nuh-uh. They're all like, "Look at my reproductive organs! Tee hee! See how wide open I can spread my petals?" Whores.)

In other news, I might need to get laid.